As an example, I like practical jokes – small and large. Just yesterday for someones birthday – I had a man dressed up in fairy costume and show up at their work to wish them a happy birthday.

Now this is funny, I know. However, in just thinking about this – from the research associated with it, the ordering process to the anticipation of delivery I could hardly contain myself. All day long I was squirming and giggling and laughing out loud in the office. Mature, I know.

My brother is also like this, only he takes it to the ∞ degree. The fact that his wrist is as soft as the journalism on an in-flight magazine, and that he is as loud as Liberace doesn’t help his cause. He can’t walk into a room without doing a cartwheel or go to dinner without ordering the most difficult thing to pronounce on the menu, only to change his mind and get the burger. 

I have found a few specific examples of me being showing these characteristics. Apart from pranks, I also enjoy Disneyland. And before you ask, yes – I do enjoy the company of women. I walk around at Disneyland with a sense of awe. Not for any particular reason. Just walking around grinning like I was committed. 

I like cars. Especially in modern times where oil is scarcer than myrrh, and burning it makes Al Gore and baby seals cry. When I pull up to the local liberal artists coffee shop on Sunday morning in my gross polluting gas guzzler I get dirty looks from all of the environmentalist college students who are sitting on the porch writing papers on how they hate the world on their Macbook Air’s wearing hemp clothes. 

I deserve these dirty looks, from a logical perspective it doesn’t make any sense. I shouldn’t like Disneyland. I shouldn’t drive a car that ruins the planet. I am sorry, I cannot help it. I can’t resist any activity that grabs hold of the 8 year old inside of me. Lets call him Nolan.

In the case of Disneyland, it holds hands with Nolan and skips with him through the park looking at the scenery and small furry animals. Then we stop and start talking to the trees. 

In the case of my car, it grabs Nolan and shakes him half to death screaming  “POWWEEEEEER!”. Just the other day I found myself playing with my car, all to my lonesome in an empty area of town. I literally had to pull over,  laughing hysterically. I was out of the car, on the asphalt in an uncontrollable fit of mirthful glee that no normal adult would ever be caught dead experiencing.

So if you are going about your life, and you see a man that is gurning and skipping, like he may technically be an idiot. You may have found me, say hello and we can play tag in the parking lot. If he is wearing a pink scarf and doing cartwheels – it might be my brother.