My grandmother is somewhere reading this right now, shaking her damn head.
There were a few things I did that she despised: one was anything even remotely hinting at the fact we may not be as Jewish as we pretended and another was cracking my knuckles. She also hated tattoos. I’ve stayed away from one of those three.
Akin to this feeling, it’s only good in the beginning. After that, it starts to feel too routine, this rote motion that you’re somehow vaguely aware may actually be hurting and not helping you.
But that first one of the day? When you get you’re whole hand to pop? It’s freeing in a way, frankly, that’s hard to describe.
As a side note, you know what’s also fun? Cracking someone else‘s knuckles when they’ve either never done it (Jackpot!) or rarely ever do. That surprised look of horror/abject fear that comes over their face is priceless.
Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: Trying, desperately, to crack your back and being unable to get to whatever that spot is. You even consider, briefly, getting someone in the room to do that bear hug thing with you. True desperation.
This is a very, very specific reference but if you’ve seen Liar, Liar, you know what I’m referring to.
Either way, that excitement Max has as he fiendishly unwraps a gift is a feeling most adults, typically, don’t get to experience that often. First off, we generally just ask for things and get them. Second, people don’t tend to wrap gifts up (or as elaborately) as they did for me as when I was a kid. Lastly, I’ve been numbed to excitement and only feel alive, maybe, twice a year.
But that fevered ripping of wrapping paper, that box that’s of generic size and weight giving away nothing of its contents… that unknown is such an exciting feeling.
Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: Of course, more often than not, you open the box and it’s clothes that don’t fit or you’d never wear or something you never asked for in the first place because your Uncle is fucking terrible at getting gifts.
This may exclusively or largely be a male feeling, but anyone that’s ever really played a sport of any kind knows what the hell I’m talking about here.
What’s important to note is that this extends beyond any playing field of any kind. Of course, the “Nice hands!” likely originated there, but for this feeling we’re specifically talking post-playing days.
A friend at work throws you a pen and you’re not immediately looking, but you catch it anyway… You accidentally knock over a jar of something and snatch it before it hits the floor… You drop your phone as you take it out of your pocket but quickly grab it before it smashes on the desk…
These are only a few of the possible situations we’re talking about here, but fact remains you just made a fucking play. You didn’t do it on purpose, you totally reacted naturally and you averted some sort of disaster (anything from that piece of food hitting the floor to that thing hitting the ground and smashing).
Often times you know you made a nice grab, but what makes it special is when someone else recognizes it.
“Nice hands!” they’ll shout at you.
You’re goddamned right, you’ll think.
The Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: When you try to do it on purpose and then fuck it up anyway. Meaning, you try to get slick and do some cute shit with a bottle of beer or whatever, and then drop it because you’re not Tom Cruise in Cocktail.
That I even thought of this as a feeling at all is probably more telling of the fact that I should change cable providers than it is of anything else.
I record very few things. In fact, outside of the random show here or there, basically the only thing I record is Seinfeld. I want five episodes on my DVR at all times. I want the ability and convenience to watch one of these episodes whenever I choose.
For this other-worldly service, I pay ten dollars a month and I expect it work.
I don’t keep track of how often it doesn’t, but it suffices to say it’s often enough that I cherish when it’s working properly. I don’t do a rain dance or say a prayer each time I click play on a Seinfeld episode and it works, but I go into each interaction with my DVR braced for the worst.
When it comes up my way, I smile and sit back and enjoy 22 minutes of blissful entertainment.
The Polar Opposite of the Feeling?: Any part whatsoever of the process of calling your cable company—from them telling you to take the obvious steps you’ve already taken to keeping you on hold to setting up a potential time window for you to quit your job so they can come to your apartment/home.
Try to go to a place in your mind where you don’t know that this movie wound up being a general disappointment. Now, watch this shit right and try not to get amped.
Many who know me are aware of my fanboy tendencies when it comes to the Joker. Any time he makes an appearance, I’m down. So, it should come as no surprise that when I heard about the Suicide Squad movie and the Joker’s involvement, I was excited. That excitement was only further amplified after watching this trailer.
Like most great trailers, there were a few commonalities… creepy/catch music, the general hint of a plot, one-liners and, most importantly, saving the best and most memorable elements for last.
Sure, this movie didn’t quite live up to the hype. But then again, in the world of first, second, third and fourth trailers each at least two minutes long, what in the hell does any longer?
Doesn’t take away from how amped I was after seeing this one.
The Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: Having to purposely avoid future trailers because you are trying to temper expectations knowing you’ve duped too many times before.