Remind you of anyone - Every dinner party has one — that short...

Remind you of anyone - Every dinner party has one — that short little boring fella at the end of the table who’s roughly the height of a large bread roll but has the voice of a malfunctioning car alarm. He doesn’t sit down so much as plant himself, like a cactus with opinions. Within five minutes he’s corrected someone’s pronunciation of bruschetta, explained why gluten intolerance is a conspiracy, and interrupted a story about someone’s dog with “Actually, that’s not how canine digestion works.”You could say, “The sky was so blue today,” and he’d squint like you just insulted his mother.“Well, technically, it’s not blue — it’s Rayleigh scattering. But sure, Karen, tell us more about your blue sky.”Someone mentions going to Italy? He’s been, obviously. Didn’t like the food. “Too Italian,” he says, while aggressively swirling his glass of Aldi wine like it’s a 2007 Barolo.And just when you think he’s finally chewing — a blessed moment of peace — he swallows dramatically, points a stubby finger in your direction and says, “Sorry, I have to jump in here,” which is the adult equivalent of pulling the fire alarm for attention.He’s not there to eat. He’s there to dominate the airspace.Like a pocket-sized debate team that got lost on the way to a TED Talk.No one invited him. He came with someone else. But now he’s somehow seated himself at the head of the conversation — a one-man panel of unsolicited facts, interrupting punchlines and oxygen theft.Still, you’ve got to admire the confidence.If only he could bottle it.And then quietly drink it. Alone. In another room.