If you’re a regular reader of this newsletter, you’ll know that there’s a solid 50% chance that I’ll have written this on a train, and a 10% chance that I’m going to use one of my favorite podcasts to make a point about real estate. Well, today’s no exception. 

I actually only have three true favorite podcasts. I already wrote Acquired a month ago. The second is about the Murdaugh murders*, and I haven’t yet found a not-completely-inappropriate way to relate that topic to real estate. But the third one continues to deliver gems.

So the moment I listened to episode #2 of The Rest is History’s four-part series on Greek myths, this newsletter was bursting fully-formed like Athena from Zeus...

I’m sure I’ve told you before about my favorite podcast Acquired. I won’t bore you with all the reasons I love it, but I will say this – I am a superfan. I listen to old episodes (IKEA, Costco and Rolex are some of my faves), and I listen to new ones as soon as they drop. I own the merch, and I belong to their Slack channel where other nerds fans like me discuss the show and all sorts of related topics. 

So you can bet that when the (second, ever) live event at Radio City Music Hall was announced for July 15th, I blocked off the date in my calendar. And when tickets went on sale in early May, your girl snagged front row seats. I was so excited to go, and when Abby wasn’t available to join m...

Real Housewives fans like me know that Bravo’s editors don't let anything slide… and we love them for it. Heather swears she never said something? Cue the shady music, the cutaway, and the evidentiary reel from three episodes ago where she said that very thing with freshly filled lips and a glass of Sauvy B. 

The fine folks at Bravo don’t just roll tape to set the record straight; their slow-motion replays and neon captions make fans like me squeal with delight at the gotcha! comeuppance from our couches.

Every so often, I wish I had my own room of Bravo editors to review the tapes and alert me when someone is being less than truthful, and I know I’m not alone here. In fact, it’s a sent...

Today we’re going to talk about jean shorts. “Jorts,” if you like.

In my worldview, there are next to zero circumstances where jorts are okay. I think cutoffs can look cool on women in the right setting, like on a boat whilst holding a Coors Light, or if you’re a toddler, but jorts with a hem will always and forever be dorky. Come after me, Gen-Z! 

And the worst, without a doubt, are hemmed jorts on men. Wait – scratch that – the absolute worst is cargo capri jorts on men, but my point stands.

So anyhow, with this context established, you can imagine the side-eyes that were thrown when my family and I recently boarded a ferry to Poland and saw a man in jorts. And moments later, another ma...

If at any point you’ve been in a romantic relationship that lasted, let’s say, a year or more, you are surely familiar with the idea that the head-spinning early days of infatuation don’t last forever. In fact, legit scientific studies have shown that this period of “omg he’s so cuuuute chewing with his mouth open” lasts about six months.

Thanks to very real things like brains and human evolution, none of us can outsmart the chemical reactions that happen inside of us when we’re staring down the promise of new, exciting, this-is-definitely-the-thing-I’ve-been-missing love.

😑 But we all know how this story goes. After that first period of flooding dopamine, the drugs wear off, life beg...

When Netflix dropped Nonnas, a "feel-good" Vince Vaughn flick about the restaurant business, we just knew we needed to write about it.

Here’s the synopsis: After losing his beloved mother, a man risks everything to honor her by opening an Italian restaurant with actual nonnas — grandmothers — as the chefs.

Cute premise and who doesn't love Italian food, but what made our blood pressure rise to dangerous Florida PTA book banning levels was the Hollywood treatment of opening a restaurant. Yes, it’s “based on a true story,” but just like Vince Vaughn’s forehead, the story is pumped full of neurotoxins to make opening a restaurant look smooth and carefree.

This is what infuriate...

This week I’ve been listening to a four-part series about the Medici on one of my favorite podcasts, The Rest is History. Anyone with a mild interest in art history is surely familiar with the Medici family from Renaissance Florence who commissioned some of the most significant artworks in western history like Donatello’s David (the scrawny one, not Michelangelo’s ripped version) and Botticelli’s The Birth of Venus. 

Not surprisingly, as the Medici banking business passed from grandpa Cosimo to son Piero and then to his son Lorenzo, the business acumen and attention to detail started to wane as the gout and baller-lifestyles grew. So when a feisty party-pooper friar named Girolamo Savona...