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Thursday, May 22, 2014

Drinking with Idiots

You guys should know...

The title of this post is actually a little misleading.

Because when I sat down for the Skype interview with The IdiotBox Experts, it was immediately apparent that despite loads of crappy beer and a bottle of sweet red, (I shamelessly got them drunk), these guys clearly knew TV (and a lot of other things), really well.



Oh, and really quick - I'm gonna go ahead and put out there that, despite not being the most journalistically sound process, drunk interviewing is the best thing ever. Except when you go back to look at the notes you hazily scribbled on the back of your monthly auto insurance statement and find them to be absolutely incoherent.

Anyways.

You may have noticed that I don't make it a point to endorse many things on my blog. Not unless they're cool, or funny, or I feel like they add something substantial and profound to the lives of you, my dear readers, and our vast, great, wide world.

The IdiotBox Experts podcast is one of those things. (I feel like it's my journalistic duty to also mention that I'm lucky enough to call one of these guys a really great friend. Assuming we are still friends considering the time it's taken me to publish this blog).

The IdiotBox Experts podcast was an idea 6 years in the making, formed in its infancy by 2 friends that really liked hanging out and talking about stuff, who met one day on a bench.


The supreme normalcy of that chance encounter is the cornerstone upon which these podcasts sit. Regular dudes, talking about regular shit, who are just a liiiitle bit smarter than you. At least when it comes to TV.

Each week, the Experts, devilishly handsome Paul Ancona and heartbreakingly debonaire Billy Ferris converge on the interwebs to discuss the best and worst of television and beyond.

They spout easily-digestible, conversational knowledge about what's going on on television, in movies, in popular culture, wrapped up in endearing segments with "favorite dinner party guests"-type questions that leave you feeling like you wanna call them over and drink beers because you've been friends with them forever.

Don't be confused, though. They know how to hold their water. They know what they're talking about and they're passionate about the subject matter, which is what makes listeners invest their time, instead of asking "So what?" 4 minutes in and then going back to their lattes or whatever. They actually give a shit, and they make you care, too. They're engaging, encouraging listeners to take polls and answer fun questions on their Facebook and Twitter pages. And you just immediately get the sense that above and before everything else, they're having a really good time talking about this stuff.

They'd do it if they had one listener, and they'll do it when they inevitably garner thousands and millions and billions. And that's what makes it good.

The best parts of these podcasts though, are the unscripted chats between Paul and Billy. They're hilarious and genuine and awesome to listen to. And by the time the podcast is over, you find yourself bummed that they had to leave, because you feel like they've actually invaded your car or bathroom and cubicle or wherever the hell you find yourself listening, and you don't want 'em to go.

Like I said, I don't endorse tons of things on this blog. But I love the idea of friends getting together, bullshitting, and seeing an idea all the way to fruition. It's cool, and something most people are too lazy and uninterested to do.

Go listen. The podcasts will get you through rush hour traffic, quarterly meetings, the carpool line. And you may actually learn something. The next time spaghetti westerns get brought up during dinner party chats, I'll actually know what the hell they're talking about. And I'll have Paul and Billy to thank.

Thursday, May 8, 2014

Things You Should Be Telling Your Kids

Dear Beth, age 6,

Come out from inside the closet. I know dad's yelling again, and you'll hear a lot more before things get silent, but there's some stuff I want to tell you.

First of all, get to know him. Try to look past how mad he makes you and how loud he is. He is broken. He is sad. It's no excuse for his crappy behavior, but you'll be stronger for it. Sit down and ask him a question. Find out his favorite memory, his favorite song, his favorite moment with you. It will be all you have left of him later.

Also, keep writing. You were made to do it. You were put on this earth to tell stories. Yours and other people's. Your voice, your words will make broken people feel whole. They'll make you whole. They'll steel you against disappointment and fear. It is who you are. Don't listen to anyone else. You are talented and smart and you have a destiny to begin fulfilling. So stand up.

I'm still in the process of creating our dream life, but I will create it. You will wake up one morning in your late 20s (or 30s, maybe) and feel lush sheets against your skin. Light will pour through open windows; the curtains will sway against the breeze in protest. This will be your home. Because it's the home I'm making for you now. It will have taken us awhile to get here -- we got a little lost. But we are resilience personified. We have fortress hearts and we figured it out.

You will walk your bare feet across creaky wooden floors in your loft apartment, nestled downtown in the middle of some average-sized city that you've settled down in. Your friends will be here. The family you've made will be here. There will be love in every room and you will feel it with each step. You'll brew coffee and roll up the sleeves of your husband's oversized button-down. He will love you. It will be good love. Trust it.

He'll go to work and you'll be sipping that brewed coffee out of your favorite mug, turning on your computer and reading the paper (there will still be a morning paper). Your desk and the wall in front of it will be plastered with your byline. Clips from Elle, small, independent presses, Time. Copies of your essays. Galleys of your book. There will be pictures of you at events, pictures with that kind, honest man who loves you. Pictures laughing with dear friends. It will be a life you're proud of. You will make it with your hands.

The road is long. Know this. And it hurts like fire. But it will also make you new. It will callous you in a way that will allow you to carry on despite the pits and bruises. Get off the floor, Beth. Get out of the closet. You won't serve the world by living small and afraid.

This is not your forever life. Your forever life is waiting for you out here. You will write. You will be full and happy. You will end up exactly where you're supposed to. People will remember your name. You'll drink at bars (easy on the whiskey) and talk in front of distinguished crowds who know your work. You will travel. You will meet amazing people. You will be a writer. You will be a satisfied, giving wife. You will be a phenomenal mother. You will be proud of the woman you turn out to be. She will be tender and strong. She will be lionhearted.


It's all here waiting for you.
Stand up.

Love,
Beth, age 26