I'm Lex Friedman
I'm Lex Friedman.
If that name sounds familiar, there are a few possible reasons. Perhaps we're friends; I've even had past friends win The Listserve (Hi, Mark!).
More likely, if you DO recognize by name, it's because it's on the radio all the time. I'm sorry about that.
See, I sell podcast ads for a living, and one of the advertisers I sold podcast ads to wanted to branch into radio ads. And they said, "Gee, Lex, you have a nice voice—would you be willing to do our voiceovers for the radio?" I figured it would be a one-off thing, and, you know, anything for an advertiser!
Since then, I've recorded hundreds of spots. And each of them starts out, "Hi, I'm Lex Friedman."
So when people hear my name, they recognize it, but often don't remember why.
That's fun. Of course, it's more fun to be known and/or remembered for things I'm prouder of than "reading someone else's script into a microphone." I think I'm good at a few things.
I've written a couple humor books: The Snuggie Sutra (which is exactly what it sounds like) and The Kid in the Crib, which is a Dr. Seuss parody. I host a few podcasts. I invented the modern dishwasher. I once wrote a paragraph in the middle of an email with only one lie in it.
We have a new puppy. He's a poodle/schnauzer mix. A schnoodle, if you will. (I will.) His name is Cody. I mention this mostly because my previous paragraph referred to being in the middle of an email, and so I need to add a few more paragraphs to make it true. I can't let my email to thousands upon thousands of strangers contain falsehoods!
I'm a fan of improvisational theater. I took classes for years at the Groundlings school in Los Angeles, eventually — after years — qualifying for the highest-level class, for which there was a waiting list. I sat on the waiting list for a year, and then another. Eventually, my wife and I moved across the country. The next day, a spot opened up for the class. I never got to take it.
I mention all this because my approach to this email has been improvisational. I imagine it shows. But I haven't planned this email; I'm really just plowing ahead. I made up this very sentence as I went along. And this one! The entire paragraph, really. Gazebo! Elephants in an elevator! Schnoodle!
Anyway, I've occasionally given thought to what I would write should I ever win the Listserve. This is not what I expected. I'm okay with that. I hope you are too.
Yours, but mostly mine,
Lex Friedman
ls[AT]lexfriedman.com
New Jersey
If that name sounds familiar, there are a few possible reasons. Perhaps we're friends; I've even had past friends win The Listserve (Hi, Mark!).
More likely, if you DO recognize by name, it's because it's on the radio all the time. I'm sorry about that.
See, I sell podcast ads for a living, and one of the advertisers I sold podcast ads to wanted to branch into radio ads. And they said, "Gee, Lex, you have a nice voice—would you be willing to do our voiceovers for the radio?" I figured it would be a one-off thing, and, you know, anything for an advertiser!
Since then, I've recorded hundreds of spots. And each of them starts out, "Hi, I'm Lex Friedman."
So when people hear my name, they recognize it, but often don't remember why.
That's fun. Of course, it's more fun to be known and/or remembered for things I'm prouder of than "reading someone else's script into a microphone." I think I'm good at a few things.
I've written a couple humor books: The Snuggie Sutra (which is exactly what it sounds like) and The Kid in the Crib, which is a Dr. Seuss parody. I host a few podcasts. I invented the modern dishwasher. I once wrote a paragraph in the middle of an email with only one lie in it.
We have a new puppy. He's a poodle/schnauzer mix. A schnoodle, if you will. (I will.) His name is Cody. I mention this mostly because my previous paragraph referred to being in the middle of an email, and so I need to add a few more paragraphs to make it true. I can't let my email to thousands upon thousands of strangers contain falsehoods!
I'm a fan of improvisational theater. I took classes for years at the Groundlings school in Los Angeles, eventually — after years — qualifying for the highest-level class, for which there was a waiting list. I sat on the waiting list for a year, and then another. Eventually, my wife and I moved across the country. The next day, a spot opened up for the class. I never got to take it.
I mention all this because my approach to this email has been improvisational. I imagine it shows. But I haven't planned this email; I'm really just plowing ahead. I made up this very sentence as I went along. And this one! The entire paragraph, really. Gazebo! Elephants in an elevator! Schnoodle!
Anyway, I've occasionally given thought to what I would write should I ever win the Listserve. This is not what I expected. I'm okay with that. I hope you are too.
Yours, but mostly mine,
Lex Friedman
ls[AT]lexfriedman.com
New Jersey
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