Category: Top 250 Feelings

This can apply to a number of situations—witty banter with a cashier, that quippy comment to your fellow subway rider (both of which, I must humbly say, I’m quite good at)—but what I’m specifically referring to is stand-up comedy.

Now, you may be wondering, how can making a room full of strangers be this low on the list? Well, for one, it’s not that low. It made the fucking list and it’s a good deal under 200. Second, to me, making your friends laugh is a much better feeling. Not that that’s a hint to a latter, top 50 feeling or anything…

I used to do stand-up pretty regularly for about three years. I’ve since stopped to write books no one gives a shit about, but in any event, I’ll never forget the feeling of making a room of strangers (admittedly, some were friends) laugh. It’s the unknown, the lack of context that makes it so satisfying. I say that because—and pardon the arrogance here—the ability to simply make someone laugh isn’t the amazing part. I know, every time I go on stage, that I can do that. I even know that a lot of the material I’m using has been and will be funny. But, what creates the great feeling for me, is making this particular group of strangers laugh. I don’t know anything about them, I don’t know how old they are (will they get this reference?) or where they’re from or where they’re going.

So, while I’m not shotgun-to-the-chest stunned each and every time I make a group of people laugh, it never stops feeling great. It’s a wave of adrenaline that, honestly, is unlike many others.

Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: Being the guy that continually gets up on stage, despite having no discernible talent and no record, whatsoever, of making anyone laugh. Good for you, pal, for keeping at it. But, jeez, that ain’t easy.

I like to consider myself a decent cook. I’m no chef—that’s my brother who actually does cook food for a living. I’m not even my friend Rob who, while not a professional, is pretty fucking good. No, what I am is a guy who likes to eat, knows how to read and turn on a stove, and can make a few dishes well, and many dishes decently.

That all said, more often than not I’m cooking for myself. I have my own particular preferences–almost everything I make has one or more of the following attributes: spicy, Italian, soup, stew. So, when I do get the chance to cook for someone outside of myself, it’s always that rare combination of excitement and nervousness. Happy that I’ll get a chance to show, nervous that it’ll come out terribly and (worse yet) the person will be forced to lie about it.

We all know the liars. Hell, we’ve all been the liars. Mmmm, this is delish*… Yeah… I’d love some more. Of course, the less experienced among us will make it easier for the cook to figure out, but the point is, there’s no denying when someone really can’t get enough.

Every year (for the past few), I have a bunch of my pals over to my apartment and make a huge pot of sauce and meatballs, all from scratch. Not every single person scarfs it down, but there’s a few (one guy in particular) who would eat the plate if they were allowed.

Especially when it’s a recipe you’ve made for years, passed down from your dad’s grandmother to your mother to you… That’s a great feeling.

Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: I’d quote Sugar Hill gang, but you might as well hear them do it for you. It’s being this friend.

*Why am I saying delish? I never say delish. I hate myself as much as I hate this food.

I feel like Bonus Cards fall in to one of two camps… they either consistently save you money, or they do nothing at all. Shop Rite and A&P’s cards are good. Walgreens’ card is awful. CVS is decent, I’d put it more in the former than the latter.

Either way, I’ve got a little quirk when it comes to buying stuff at these places. I don’t like giving them my bonus card until the order has been completely finished. Especially when it’s a big load of groceries.

I like to see the high total and smugly think to myself, “I’m not paying that amount!” After having ignored the cashier’s initial question about the card, I produce it from my pocket and watch as the savings (almost literally) fly off the screen. When it’s done item by item as they’re scanned, it’s not nearly as fun. I like seeing it fly off all at once.

Think of it this way… would you rather lose weight in one workout or slowly, over two weeks? Exactly.

Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: Thinking you’ve purchased something that will either save you money or get you points (Who is using these? Honestly) and finding out you didn’t get the right thing (ohhh, I needed four Crest products… My mistake!)

This one comes from my younger brother, so obviously, the appropriate hat tip and all that.

The idea behind this feeling is that we spend seemingly forever in school learning miles and miles of nonsense to simply regurgitate for the nearest test. How much of Catcher in the Rye, or the geography of central Africa, or the difference between sin and tan, or the French-Indian War do you honestly remember?

If you look at it that way (as opposed to: all that learning is like painting over the same canvas, over and over. It may not show itself eventually, but those thin layers do make a difference in the end), it’s sort of depressing, right?

This feeling rescues it all.

The example my brother gave me (I’ve had a similar experience) dealt with something from his job. A couple of the dudes he works with speak English, but barely. So, to communicate, he tried to break out some of that old school Español. He’s 23 years old, so we’re talking no less than six or seven years since he actually learned to habla. Probably even more since he last paid attention in that class.

And yet, despite how the oddmakers in Vegas had it panning out, he was able to communicate. And not just by yelling fake Spanish, louder*. So yeah, it’s a feeling of recall, of accomplishment. I guess we all have more reserves of knowledge than we expect, but it’s still nice to find it out every so often.

Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: I’m not sure this has one. Please, enlighten me. UPDATE: This comes from Matt Finkel via Twitter. Check it out.

*My mom would do that all the time. I had to explain, “Mom, they’re not deaf. They just don’t speak English.”

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…