Month: August 2016

There was once a comedian, maybe 10 or 15 years ago, who voiced a very similar opinion. Watching that clip, you may recall his name… Shane? Wayne? It doesn’t matter, specifically. What matters is that he’s 100% on point (like he was with everything, in fairness, for about an 18-24 month stretch before falling off the face of the earth).

Monopoly is somehow the most popular, most frustrating, most boring, most monotonous game ever created… that we’ve all played.

It’s alone in this fact: winning and losing bring equal amounts of joy to the competitors.

I haven’t played a game myself in a while—I’m more partial to the Taboo’s and Scattergories’ of the world—but I can recall a time when we’d all gather around the board, our little pieces scurrying around in an endless circle as we collected properties, built hotels and generally prayed for either a scud missile to rip through the living room or mom to finish dinner.

Either would’ve been preferable to continuing to play.

Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: Thinking you’re about to go bankrupt, thrilled by that news, only to have a roll of the dice land you in a shockingly good position. You are still alive.

 

 

You may be wondering… this isn’t a feeling, “What is this doing here?”

And you’re right. McNuggets aren’t a feeling, per se. But number one hundred and eight is bigger than the item itself.

This feeling is not just about eating McNuggets. It’s not just about dipping McNuggets into sauce (the spicy buffalo and the sweet/sour are your only real options). It’s not just about that feeling of giddiness when your 20-pack arrives. It’s not just about the crunch of the first bite or the smell of that fried goodness or that sense you always have that, maybe, just maybe, you could become a professional McNugget eater. Like, competitively. Sure, you’d have to travel the country and enter the circuit and you’d probably put on some weight… but it would be worth it.

It’s not just about any of those feelings individually. It’s about all of them. At once.

Because, friends, that’s the beauty of the McNugget. It’s the most tasty of all the mass produced tenders and fingers and nuggets and poppers and bites that fast food restaurants across this great land offer. And it’s not close (well, maybe Wendy’s might have something to say about that, but you get my point).

The fact is: this is a snack that costs typically no more than 25 cents per nug brings that much joy. Each one brings so much happiness, so much excitement, so much to unpack that as a whole… yes, they are a top 250 feeling.

Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: The next morning. After 40 nugz.

This has mostly manifested itself for me on the basketball court (or sporting field of some kind). I don’t really remember sitting down for a history exam, shouting to the person sitting next to me, “Calvin Coolidge was a punk biyatch!” or something similarly ridiculous.

But, you see, that’s the fun of shit talking… in any other forum, any other venue or walk of life that type of talk is completely and utterly stupid. It doesn’t apply, it doesn’t fit and often it could get you at best in trouble and at worst your ass kicked.

My most recent shit talking experiences have come with my niece. She’s ten (now) and likes to try to beat me in basketball. To be fair, she’s been trying to beat me pretty consistently since she was maybe 6 or 7 (possibly earlier). Throughout that time, I was always approximately 19 years old and significantly more experienced in the art of roundball.

Now, you may be thinking… Scott, how could you possibly talk trash to your ten-year old niece? How is that fun? What is the point?

Well, I answer you, pathetic loser, by saying simply, “WHY NOT?” She needs to get punked every so often, to know that if she offers up weak stuff in the lane, it’s going to get sent the fuck back. It’s rough out here on these streets–she’d better learn.

But, more than anything, I’d answer by saying, “It’s fun. And funny. And ridiculous. That’s why.”

Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: This is pretty obvious, but being the guy who talks a whole gang of shit only to have it all (and I meant, it all) blow up in his face.

This one, in many universes, could be number one. It could even be higher than number one.

Think about how rarely it actually happens.

How often do you A) get the opportunity to say something outside of the banal at a work meeting, B) think quickly enough on your feet and C) find yourself in the right company where whatever mix of wit and sarcasm you’re brewing up is actually appropriate?

In my job, I’ve found myself in the position of leading a meeting here and there. More often than not, I either am not presented with the proper opportunity or don’t think it would be a good idea to make that joke in front of those people (had I written this years ago, I’d have barely been able to even write that sentence, as I thought every joke that crawled into my brain had to be delivered to the masses, including those in much higher positions than me at my place of employment).

In fact, even worse than any of those situations is the one we all have encountered, the one our bespectacled friend George here ran into: not being able to come up with the right line until much later.

But, every so often, the planets and moons and stars and executive vice presidents align… and you’re able to drop that STUNNING one-liner. That no-look, behind-the-back alley-oop of a joke or jab that EVERYONE FUCKING LOVES. Even the guy that never smiles at your meetings, the woman that not-so-secretly can’t stand you… everyone.

To the victor go the spoils.

Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: Overestimating how much time that line bought you, talking too much after it and either ruining the success of the line or making people forget how good it was in the first place by your pointless drivel.