I’ve always fucking loved dinner. Actually, I should say, I’ve always fucking loved lunch and dinner. Breakfast is for the birds. So is brunch, but those are topics for another day, another soapbox.
This feeling is about finishing your day, finishing the thought of what you’re going to have/make, finishing all the prep and actual cooking work (or, if you’re lucky/lazy enough, the waiting time for someone else to do those things), not fucking anything up.. and then finally getting to sit down and eat.
Depending on your view of things, it gets even better as you sit on your couch, turn on an episode of Seinfeld, put your feet up and start scarfing down. Some people prefer the company of others while eating a meal, and to them, more power. I happen to like that as well, but in the right situation. A regular weekday dinner? I sort of prefer (eh, that might be too strong… I enjoy, let’s say) the solitary 20-25 minutes of eating/Seinfeld time. Sort of helps me hit the reset button.
So, beyond the restorative qualities that actually sitting down for dinner provides, there’s the obvious “THANK YOU, SWEET JESUS, I NOW GET TO DESTROY THIS FOOD!” feeling that all of our inner-fat-kids get as we put the first forkful to our lips.
Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: Eating a meal alone on a holiday, birthday or any other remotely special occasion. Yeah, I know. Shit just got real.
The caveat at the end is what makes this feeling so incredible. Everyone blows their nose, everyone has moments when they really need to do it. But, how often do you get to not only blow that honker to your heart’s content and clean out everything?
I don’t know about you, but I’m generally stuffed up around this time of year—every single year. As such, my nose develops into what my dad used to so lovingly refer to as a “snot locker”. Whatever your family calls it, point is, that locker needs some cleaning every once in a while. Just prior to writing this very post I actually had a good, hard sneeze and knew, instantly, I had a golden nose blowing opportunity.
Like many people, I get lazy with blowing my nose. I’ll wait until I have to, then maybe wait some more. I haven’t owned tissues since my grandmother passed away two years ago (Before we sold her house, I took the last box. Thanks, Grandma!) and I don’t plan on owning any in the near future.
But, when this sneeze came, I knew I wouldn’t be wasting my time, that this would be the clear-all nose blow that I needed to get my sinuses back up and running for the time being. As I type this now, I can say proudly that we have very little, to no backup on the inbound or outbound nasal cavities. May not last long, but it was good while it did.
Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: Thinking you had a great nose blowing experience and then you look into your tissue and don’t see anything. You then know one of two (or, even, worst-case both) scenarios are in play: you have a booger somewhere on your person or you have way more nose blowing ahead of you.
This one may seem odd, or even, far too ordinary to make this list. However, if you’ve ever gone apple picking (or, as I’ve come to do… gone to the farm next to the orchard and simply bought the apples they picked) you know exactly what I’m talking about.
Apples, like most fruit, are a real roll of the dice when purchasing. I suppose I could’ve substituted apples for pears or oranges or any other type of fruit in this title, but I don’t know if I’ve ever really had farm fresh versions of any of those. I live in the north east. We do apples up in this piece.
And as such, I found myself at one of those farms last Sunday with my sister and her family. There were no apple trees, just a barn with already picked apples. I went straight to the ones that looked like they needed to be washed. Their skins were rough, like the face of a man that badly needed a shave. Something about them said, “I AM REALLY FUCKING GOOD. BUY AND EAT ME!” And so, I followed my heart/stomach.
And I’ll tell you, they were delicious. All of them. Each bite.
When was the last time you could truly say that about an apple?
Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: Getting cute and buying apples from a place you know you shouldn’t… like say, the cafeteria in your office… taking one bite… and finding out you have just purchased the dreaded mealy apple. THE WORST.
I’ve long had a strange relationship with basketball sneakers. After all, basketball is my favorite sport–to watch, to play–and as such, in my lifetime, accessorizing has long been a staple of the game. Getting the right jersey, wearing the right gear, having the best sneakers. Unfortunately, all that nonsense costs a lot of money. And as such, as a kid, I wasn’t allowed to have the brand new Jordans (not that I wanted anything from that punk. I was a Spurs fan on the futile search for a pair of Air-David-Robinsons…) or anything else that cost that much. Sneakers weren’t supposed to cost $75 for a 9-year old, my parents would say. I didn’t get it then, but I get it now.
That’s all a long way of saying, I may not buy the hottest new shoes (or, as our pals in London call ’em, “basketball boots”) but I do have a serious appreciation for the feeling of a new pair of kicks. And, what makes this feeling special is that it’s rare. Any jerk can buy a new pair of shiny sneakers. But, only a lucky few get to play indoors on a court that is clean. Not a court that has the same dust and residue left on it from when the kids had lunch that afternoon.
I can’t claim to have been that lucky that often, but I do know the feeling. And while at times the cut into that hardwood is so sharp it feels like my ACL is going to rip in half again, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: Showing up to the park or the gym or wherever you play, with your new sneakers on for the first time, and having someone land on them within what, 30 seconds?, and scuff them permanently. That hasn’t happened to me the last three times I had new sneakers.
I wish I knew more about the brain. I wish I knew more because then, maybe, I’d be able to access that far off corner of my brain that has permanently downloaded the lyrics to “Mo Money Mo Problems”. I’d be able to access that area, delete that information and replace it with… I don’t know, just about anything else on Earth that would be more useful.
I remember, many moons ago, being in the car with my mom and that song coming on. It had probably just come out and as such, my intimate knowledge of every single bar in the song wasn’t all that strange. I remember saying to my mom, apropos of nothing, “I’m never going to not know the lyrics to this song.”
And so, in 2014, nearly 20 years after the song came out, I still do know every word to that song. And while it’s a little odd and a definite waste of memory, there’s a certain satisfaction I get when the song will randomly come on the radio or my iTunes. Maybe it’s the feeling that despite my overwhelming, alarming incompetence, there’s still one area where I know what’s going on. Or, maybe it’s the comfort of the song and the familiarity of the lyrics, almost like an audio version of comfort food.
Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: You think you know all the words to a song, you try to go ahead and take a verse in the car with your pals, but you sadly either don’t know, can’t remember or never did know the actual words so you have to bow out like a jerk.
I’ll be honest, I’m not the busiest guy in the whole wide world. I’m sure you could’ve guessed that, what with this whole ‘250 things’ endeavor seeming like a colossal waste of time for anyone else. Either way, with all that said I’m pretty sure the most frequent occurrence of this feeling is on Saturday nights. I’d prefer to have plans for a Saturday night, but when I don’t, I can almost consistently take comfort in the fact that I’m only a few remote control clicks away from at least three movies I’d enjoy watching.
My strategy when it comes to TV watching is a simple one… Find what you want, and then have just one backup for the commercials. There needs to be something you can rely on with your “last” button (that’s the “Previous Channel” button for the uninitiated) and if you’re really lucky, the commercials are out of sync so one is never on break while the other is*. When this feeling occurs, it’s the only time you wish there was a “next to last” button.
And the reason this feeling is so great is because, beyond the obvious, so often you have nothing to watch. There’s 10,000 channels, you only flick through about 27 of them and on any given night, 26 of them are useless.
Not tonight though. We’re talking Back to the Future II (the best one), Old School and Horrible Bosses. All on TV, all at once, all for you. Go, enjoy.
Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: Experiencing this feeling on one Saturday night, loving it, then not having plans for the following Saturday, experiencing it again—but to the same movies. Not quite as fun.
*Of course, that’s just a fantasy. Like sane 10’s, we all know that doesn’t exist.
I’m not one for usually posting this sort of thing here, but I’m such a fan of this podcast, I had to at least tell people in the only “permanent”, “official” capacity that I have.
If you’re a fan of the show, Saved by the Bell, as you know so plainly know that I am… you need to check out April Richardson’s podcast, “Go Bayside!“. For real, it’s hilarious.
Basic premise: Comedian April Richardson (a devout, seriously if not oddly obsessed fan of the show) invites a different friend (also, a comedian) each week to watch an episode (being done chronologically) on her couch, then they record themselves discussing the episode in-depth for about 30-45 minutes.
Suggestion: Go to the site or to iTunes, find an episode you remember watching, and listen to that podcast. You’ll know.