#104 – Being Buzzed Somewhere You Shouldn’t Be (and Getting Away With It)

huntington-beach-public-intoxicationBefore we even start, let’s be clear… this isn’t a veiled way of saying driving drunk is a top 100 feeling.

What it is, however, is a way of saying that there are certain places where you know, most likely, you shouldn’t be tipsy… and yet you somehow are. And yet, despite all that, it feels great—partially because being buzzed can be fun, but partially because it’s a weird bit of a challenge to attempt to mask it.

Let me explain, with a hypothetical… Let’s say you have a work function taking place somewhere. You don’t want to go, it’s one of those awful team-building things where you and your colleagues, nice folks that they are, have been forced to pretend you’re actually anything more than work associates. There’s some pass around food options, it’s being held at a bar, but generally everyone is keeping it in check. You, of course, have plans. So, not one to break them, you meet your actual friend for a drink or two (or six) before showing up buzzed to this work event. You know, immediately upon arrival, that you’re far more gone than anyone else there. But, you also know that because you’re a master of disguise and subtlety, there is a possibility you can hide it.

That feeling—that one right there—of being joyfully buzzed while no one else is, where you probably shouldn’t be as much as you are…and getting away from it—that’s a great feeling. That’s some superhero type shit, The Incredibly Not Buzzed Man! saves the day. You can hang longer than others, your jokes are suddenly funnier, your wit quicker and your moral compass looser. Of course, this all rests of a small fulcrum… one fuck up and you’re not only discovered, but potentially in trouble and embarrassed.

But until then, ride on moral lawbreaker. You do what you want, when you want.

Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: Forgetting, for even a brief second, where you are and letting the guard down. Obvious, sure, but the consequences are disastrous.

#59 – Sweatshirt Weather

zine-hooligan-black-solid-zip-up-hoodie-_216128I fucking love sweatshirts.

You can wear them with t-shirts, with dress shirts, with those henley things. They look good tighter and looser, heavier and thinner. They cover up stains, help you sneak shit into movie theaters, cover your head in the rain and are, generally, the most comfortable form of clothing that’s not something made from velour.

So, it comes as no surprise that by the time summer has made it’s mark and we’re ready to move on to the 11 days of Fall we’re allotted in the north east before winter ravages us, I’m READY for it.

Beyond the obvious cutesy shit that’s associated with sweatshirt weather, all of which I like (apple picking, football starting, the NBA not being far behind, being able to be outside for hours without sweating through various articles of clothing), part of my love for sweatshirt weather is that it finally gets me out of shorts and t-shirts and into pants and long sleeves. I not only like the way I look better (but I guarantee it!), but I like the way I feel.

I don’t have to worry about anyone asking me to go to the beach or whether or not I’m tan enough or if I put on just the right amount of deodorant that will protect me but not stain my t-shirt. I don’t have to go swimming or debate whether or not I should be wearing shorts or pants when I go out or if I need a jacket or not. It’s all set in stone.

Fall, you can’t get here fast enough.

Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: Any day in August.

#139 – Sleeping Naked

sleeping-nakedI’ve honestly only done it a handful of times. It’s not that I don’t enjoy the feeling (I do). It’s not that I have not been presented with the opportunity (I have).

If we’re being fully honest–and what else is this space for outside of that sort of trust–my real concern is that there’s going to be some kind of situation that arises…burglary, fire, tsunami, etc…. that causes me to now be caught in the awkward position of either having to quickly get clothes on (and risk my life) or explain to horrified on-lookers on the streets of Hoboken why I am not wearing clothes.

Neuroticism aside, it is a strikingly freeing feeling, isn’t it? With a partner in the bed or solo, there’s something remarkable about it and I’m not quite sure what that is. Personally, I’m partial to underwear and a t-shirt or a sweatpants and a t-shirt during the winter… but on a cool fall day? My lord, it’s relaxing.

I guess the best analogy I can make is to sleeping in a hammock. They’re impossible to get into and out of, they generally leave marks all over whatever parts of your body aren’t clothed and are hard to get more than a passing nap on… yet somehow, if asked, our first instinctual response would be to assert just how goddamned great sleeping in a hammock is. We don’t know why we love it so much, we just do.

Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: Incorrectly judging the temperature in your room, such that you wake up in a pool of feverish sweat or freezing cold three-to-four hours after going to bed.

#229 – Winning (or Losing) Monopoly So You Can Finally Stop Playing

monopoly-manThere 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.



#108 – McNuggets (Everything About Them)

dsc_0425You 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.

#197 – Talking Shit

talking_shit_1245475This 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.

#24 – Saying the Right Thing in a Work Meeting

tumblr_lr3fkwwmws1qg1bmgo1_500This 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.