Author: scottspinelli

And the winner for longest title on this list is…

Long-winded as it may be, you know what I’m talking about. Imagine the following:

You’re doing your daily (or, weekly, whatever… no judgement here) routine. Maybe it’s a little elliptical, maybe some treadmill or you’re a bike guy. Whatever it is, it’s a Wednesday, you’re at the gym, you don’t want to be there and you’re finding the whole process a bit more draining/exhausting than usual. You obviously forge ahead, but it’s rough sledding. The songs your iPod is cranking out just aren’t doing the trick, the article you’re trying to read is mind-numbingly boring, and you’ve already seen SportsCenter three times today*.

And then, the whole world changes. You try your best not to stare, but fuck it, you realize, this whole place is a meat market anyway, right? I mean, what else are we all doing here, wearing shit we’d never wear in normal public, working on parts of our body that most people will never see… I’m going to fucking stare. And you know what, he or she—they want you to stare. Why would she wear those pants? Or that sports bra with no shirt over it? These girls say they feel gross at the gym, but they know they look amazing.**

Now, your energy is suddenly amped up. You want to stay out there on the gym floor because she’s out there. That’s two-pronged… First, you want to keep staring. Second, and impossibly more idiotic, is that you don’t want to look like you’re done working out. As if this girl is taking mental stock of who is there and how long they’ve been working out… So, you stay. And all of the sudden, those last few miles, last few sets—they fly by.

Thank you, attractive girl.

Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: Getting caught doing something stupid at the gym by this same person… i.e., slipping off the elliptical or not knowing how to use (or even get in) one of those Nautilus machines.

 

*I love it when gyms play shows on TV that need subtitling—like the news, or a sitcom—and they refuse to put them up. So it’s just people moving around on the screen. That’s fun.

**I’m sure there’s male equivalents of this, but I don’t really know what they are. Sleeveless t-shirts? Fill in at your own discretion, ladies.

Everyone has that one bill that they honestly don’t mind paying off, month-by-month. Of course, the preference would be to have absolutely no debt whatsoever, but for those of us in the real world, there’s a solid and incredibly definable difference between the bills we hate and the bills we can (for lack of a better term) stand.

For me, it’s one thing: my college loans. I’ve got car payments and parking lot bills and credit card bills and rent checks to write every month… But, for a number of reasons, every month when it comes time to put some money into my college loan debt, I don’t quite feel my small intestine wrenching around as much as I do with all the others.

The reasons, I’d imagine, are obvious. 1, I’ve been and will be paying it off for years, so the buildup is a big part. 2, I loved college, don’t regret one second of it, so I don’t mind having to pay for something I loved. 3, I love watching it actually go down (unlike the various things I, in one way or another, rent, which never go down, only go up and never vanish). It’s an oddly accomplished feeling to simply watch the numbers change from one 4-digit exchange to the next down.

Side note: At the rate I’m going, I don’t know what’ll happen first, me finishing this list of 250 feelings or paying off that loan (honestly, it’s going to be down to the wire, but I think this list will win, but barely).

Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: The knowledge that around the time I’m done paying off college and get a bill firmly off my plate, some bullshit like a wedding or mortgage payment will saddle me for the foreseeable future. Let’s stay in the present, shall we?

This is going to say a lot about me as a person, but I get decidedly more joy when someone I can’t stand finally gets eliminated from a game/reality show.

Now, even if you don’t watch a ton of these type shows (which, in fairness, I don’t) you know how easy it is to spot the people you just absolutely hate. There’s no real reason to it and it’s certainly not fair. But there’s just that something, maybe it’s their face, or how they dress, or how excited they are (or the editors of the show make them out to be) over the most mundane things*, or how they over pronounce certain words… Who the hell knows. Point is, you can’t stand them and you want them off the show.

Of course, best of luck to them in all their future endeavors… BUT IN THE MEANTIME, FUCK OFF!

Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: Expecting that person to get voted off/eliminated and week after painful week that person stays on. You start to lose faith in humanity, wondering how anyone (seriously, anyone!) could even remotely like this person.

*Food Network Star is incredible at this. Any time the contestants are heading to a new challenge, there’s guaranteed to be someone that loses their mind over any number of wildly everyday activities occurring in front of them.

I know, a lot of people would have this a lot lower on the list. And don’t get me wrong, it’s definitely fun to see (celebrity X) at the grocery store or the bar when you had no expectations of doing so, but… really, is it that incredible?

We’ve all got our things. For me, it’s basketball, fantasy sports, writing, adult videos… for some people it’s horseshit reality tv and obsessing over celebrities. Personally, I don’t get how people my age are still that in to celebs, but, be that as it may, there’s a definite fascination if for no other reason than they’re rare. When you leave your house, you see people like yourself around every corner. Odds are, you don’t see a ton of people that you’ve seen before (you know, like people on TV).

A few months back, I was at a bar in New York and spotted someone that looked really familiar. I said as much to the friends I was with, but they were unable to place him. After some unsuccessful brainstorming, we gave up and resumed whatever conversation we’d been involved in.

At some point later in the night, this guy actually came up to the part of the bar where we were sitting. Unable to resist herself, one of my friends said to him, point blank, “Who are you?”

Sheepishly, he replied, “Jonathan Silverman?” almost as if he was asking us. He’d leave the bar shortly thereafter, but the mystery had been solved. After we laughed about the concept of Weekend at Bernies for a bit, we moved on. It certainly didn’t alter the night, but it did make it a tad more interesting and, at the very least, more worthy of a retelling when anyone asked me “what did you do last night?” the next day.

Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: Being certain you’ve spotted that celebrity, and either finding out it’s A) not that person, B) it is that person but they won’t cop to it because they’re a tool or C) it is that person and they’re a fucking asshole.

I mean, really, there’s not a ton to say. I suppose if you’re a negative person, you could look at this one and point to all the gross stuff attached to sneezing. You know, the snot, the germs, the wetness, the noise, the fact that your eyes close (I, for one, am stunned there aren’t more sneeze-related accidents).

However, I’d say, hell with all that. To me, a good sneeze–you know the kind I’m talking about–is hard to top. It clears your whole head, gives you just a small bit of that surprise whiplash feeling, and leaves you ready to go forward.

Now, I should clarify that I’m not one of those multi-sneeze people. I don’t know if they can relate to what we’re talking about here. Frankly, I don’t know how they can relate to anything we’ve discussed on this site as I’m not sure they’re humans.

But yeah, a good sneeze is worth it. Of course, not all sneezes are created equal. Like most things in life, a great majority of them are largely unsatisfying. But, when you get that good, head-clearer, it’s a great feeling.

Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: Being totally blindsided by a sneeze, not being able to prepare and having all the snot and goo come propelling from your nose and mouth in a public place. Just go home, it’s over.

From what I’ve begun to gather, this feeling isn’t as exclusively male as it used to be. This used to be nerd blood sport.

Now? Well, I know a bunch of guys that do leagues with (or, for) their girlfriends. So, that’s got to count for something.

Point is, the fantasy craze has expanded beyond the expected playpen it once was confined to. And, as just about any fantasy player will tell you—be it male or female, big time nerd like me or the ‘just for fun’ guy–the most exciting part of any fantasy season (with the possible exception of being in/winning the championship) is the draft.

It’s all hope, all projections, all conjecture. What pick will you get? Will this guy be available? Where is that guy that always takes the same guys you want picking? Should you take another RB or SP and stockpile talent with the hope of making a post-draft trade? How about the draft chat? Are you the “GREAT PICK… in 1999!” guy or the quick, silent “good pick” guy?”

My favorite part is finally being able to look at your team on the site page after your draft has completed. Or, as a friend of mine calls it, ‘rosterbating’. You can see everything, for the very first time. No matter how many holes you’re seeing (or, not seeing), you stare at the page for a good while. You’ll convince yourself of how good (or horrific) your year will be, what trades need to be made. It’s a wonderful time.

Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: Having your first two picks get hurt within the first month of the season. Not that I’ve ever been that guy…

 

There’s two types of people in this world: people who like who their cookies on the softer side, and the rest of you fuckers.

If you’ve been following this list, it’s likely no surprise that I enjoy a soft cookie. To me, there’s few things better in the dessert world. Now, I’ll admit that I’m on the extreme side of things when it comes to soft cookies. If you gave me the choice between a cookie so soft you’re not quite sure if it’s fully cooked or one of those brittle, crumb-creating pieces of shit, I’d take my chances with the raw guy.

So, I get it that I might be on my own in that specific avenue. But, what I don’t imagine is up for much debate is how delicious a batch of cookies are right after they come out of the oven. Granted, I’m biased because I like ’em soft, but even the most ardent hard-cookie-lover has to enjoy the fresh, soft cookie from the oven. It’s gooey, it’s soft, it’s hot. There’s few things better (when it comes to cookies and ovens, that is).

Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: Thinking your cookies are ready (if you’re making those pre-made ones, it’s been an interminable 5 minutes), going to spatula them off the tray and discovering they’re even too soft for you. They fall apart on and off the tray, your batch (and, frankly, your life at the moment) is ruined.

So, in previous posts, I’ve actually gone out of my way to make clear that the feeling I get from watching my sports teams succeed isn’t quite the same as it used to be.

That sentiment is still (mostly) true, but I realize was missing a major caveat. One, I honestly thought, I’d never even have the experience to provide.

That caveat, of course, is getting to be there in person when your team actually wins it all.

A few weeks back I had the (incredible) fortune to actually be in San Antonio when the Spurs took home their 5th NBA title. I was with my dad, on Father’s Day. I’d never been to a Spurs game in San Antonio, never been to a Finals game… hell, I’d never really been in a room of any sort with more than 4 or 5 Spurs fans in my entire life.

As you’d rightly imagine, it was an experience unlike just about any other I’ve ever had. I could go into the beat-by-beat details of what occurred, how it went down, but it suffices to say it was a level of joy I’ve never experienced when it comes to being a sports fan. Frankly, it’s one I doubt I’ll ever feel again.

What I’ve always joked about with regards to being a lunatic about a particular sports team is that you have no real connection to them. For me, that was always a strong sentiment because, aside from the Yankees, I route for out-of-state teams. So, that disconnect I felt wasn’t to the players (who you’ll never really connect to) but to my fellow fans.

On Father’s Day in San Antonio, I felt that connection. And it was fucking incredible.

Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: Being that Miami Heat fan I saw sitting a row or two back from me. Man, that sucks. Stupid fucking move to come to the game after what had happened in the last two, but still, awful feeling.

 

You all know how it’s going to end and how it begins. You know every single turn, every single twist. You know the punchlines, where this friend pipes in with his or her commentary, where that friend pretends like he or she was there when they really weren’t.

It’s as predictable an activity as you’ll probably ever engage in, but yet you can’t get enough.

I don’t know about you, but one of my favorite things whenever I get back together with my good buddies (from college especially because of how infrequently we’re all together) is sharing an old story. As the resident loudmouth of my group, I’m typically leading these storytelling sessions but I honestly love them regardless of my role.

There’s something amazing about the comfort of these stories. It’s likely tied strongly (or, exclusively) to nostalgia, but it’s just such a great feeling to get back in to that rhythm with your friends. Because, to me, that’s a large part of what makes it so great. You all know each other, you know how to make them laugh, how to get their attention, what they’ll find more interesting than not, where your common interests and backgrounds lie.

It’s like when an old group (that doesn’t hate one another) gets back together. The music itself might not be as crisp as it was 20, 30 years ago, but you can still feel the groove, the harmony.

Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: Sharing a story with someone and then, once you’ve finished, realizing the reason this person isn’t emoting at all is because this story doesn’t actually relate to them (or the group of friends they’re from) at all.

So, here’s how this one came to my mind…

During *SuperStorm* Sandy a few years back, I found myself living in a flooded, powerless Hoboken, NJ. Honestly, it didn’t turn out too bad for me and my roommate… We live on the second floor so we avoided any real destruction, we were able to stay with friends for a few nights and it was actually nice to have some peace and quiet at night.

Still though, a man has needs. Unlike my roommate (who at the time had what we like to call a side piece), I was a relatively lonely guy when it came to male/female relations at the time.

Now, I want to first clarify, I think the city of Hoboken did a fantastic job preparing us as best as they could. What products to buy, how to best fortify yourself for the storm we knew was coming. What they DID NOT prepare you for was that when shit hit the fan, you’d be up the creek when it came to adult videos.

It never occurred to me (or to other guys, I’ve now found out) that all we’d have in the absence of Internet access were the same things we *watched* as freshman in college. At first, I was annoyed. The classics are great, sure, but I had a new rotation, a new gaggle of videos I was just starting to round into form with. I wasn’t ready to work the ol’ guys into the act just yet… But, times were tough, circumstance forced my hand*.

And, once it was all over, it was actually quite the experience. Everyone talks about the past, about being younger, about looking more youthful… There are few ends that’ll achieve those goals more effectively** than having a few moments with yourself and some of those old friends.

Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: Having your computer die in the middle of one of these sessions because, again, there’s no power. Not that I know about that…

 

*See what I did there? I know, sad.

**Granted, only for like 90-120 seconds, but still.