Fast forward year later, we were ending a recording of our podcast (#EPBPodcast check us out on Stitcher, iTunes, and Podbean. Shameless plug) and then we debriefed about what we will talk about on the next show.
J: Aye, since we are all +FE fans and their album (Tales From The Land of Milk and Honey) is coming out next week, why don’t we ask Phonte to come on our show?
Others: That would be dope!
T: Well, we all know who needs to ask Phonte to be on the show.
*even more awkward silence*
A: If we don’t get him, I have some other ideas.
Me: It’s cool. I’ll ask him and report back.
-End of conversation
When I get off the phone, I freaked out. WHAT THE HELL DID I JUST AGREE TO DO?!?! I can’t back down now. I’m the one who talks to him more frequently on Twitter so it makes more sense for me to ask. However, this doesn’t mean I was any less nervous about it. How in the hell was I going to ask him? I don’t have any contact information outside of Twitter. Do I just ask him on the very public twitter time line? That’s not very professional.
The only way to carry this out is in the Twitter DM’s (direct messages).
It goes down in the DM’s ©
Mercy. This is going to be awkward as hell. When I think (and you too) of DMs, I think of unsolicited n00dz and unwanted attention. But I don’t know any other way to do this. Sigh.
I went ahead and hit him via direct message. I must have typed and retyped that 20-word message about 30 times. Then I put my phone down. I didn’t want to be waiting for a response so I prepared myself for bed. 20 minutes after the initial response, I received DM back 10 minutes later.
The message read:
“Hit me up anytime, cuz.”
*insert contact information*
*passes out on the floor*
I typed a brief email and sent it quickly for fear of sounding like a damn fool.
Several weeks later, I got received an email from Phonte.
“I can do the show this Sunday.”
I quickly go to the podcast group chat at 7am on Saturday morning and in all caps to say:
PHONTE AGREED TO DO THE SHOW THIS SUNDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!
But guess what? Earlier in the week, we didn’t think we would be able to record that Sunday because, we all had schedule conflicts. So I asked the rest of my cohosts, “Should we reschedule?” I got hit with the resounding NO. Even if our Sundays had to get rearranged we had to make this work. We had to get clarity on whether he wanted to do the whole show or just a segment. So we decided on the topics for the show, I typed the outline and sent him the time we would record the podcast by email. He hit me up a few hours later and agreed to do the whole show.
MY GOD. HELP ME.
To limit technical difficulty we agreed we would do a Google Hangout with Tay and J and then the rest of us would record together in the same area. Despite being prepared, I was still nervous as a hooker in church. This was the FIRST conversation I would have with Phonte not involving typed words, using gifs, and pictures. This was the first time he would hear my speaking voice. We get to TALK to one of our favorite artist and ask anything we want.
Universe help me not to fuck this up. T poured A and myself glasses of wine.
Thank God for wine. I take several sips.
Here goes nothing.
We sent him a Google invite. 10 minutes later, he comes on the screen.
FATHER HELP ME. I’M SWEATING.
A starts talking and explaining to him the flow of the show. He nods and agrees. Then he asks, “Are you Bridgette?”
ME: *SCREAMS INTERNALLY*
I’m here. *waves at the screen*
A: She’s right here beside me.
*she pulls my chair closer to the computer screen*
I introduce T and J and we start the show.
Now if we didn’t record that show, I would barely remember anything about what happened. That 2 hours came and went so fast. I do remember becoming more relaxed after that glass of wine and how easy it was to interview him. He had an ease about him. He was witty and he was so intelligent. He mentioned some famous, troubled philosopher I had to use my Googles to get the context. It was fun and I’m glad we all had the pleasure to do it.
After the it was over, T and myself ran around the house like kids in a candy store.
WHAT A TIME.
And I really thought that was enough to satisfy my little ego.
But the story gets better.