With every new year comes new hope and the belief that nothing could possibly get worse than the previous year. And yet, for most people, 2017 proved to be much shittier than 2016. Still, we’re hopeful. Well, maybe hopeful is too strong a word. Let’s just say we’re trying our best to be hopeful. To that end, here’s what we’re looking forward to in 2018.
Tracy Moore, staff writer: 2018 is the year I do the following things: Write a children’s book, go to Morocco, pay down the last of my debt and go full-scale minimalist. People fear getting older, but no one mentions how each year you care increasingly less about the trivial or irrelevant, and instead, you see with total clarity what you should be doing — not just with your time, but with your money, your relationships, your mental energy and your life. Most importantly, though, I’ll also solve my lifelong weed problem by correctly dosing the exact amount of CBD oil for total bliss.
Nick Leftley, senior editor: Alcohol, and being alone.
Ian Lecklitner, assistant editor: Another year of sleepless nights spent trying to figure out what the hell to do with my life (a goal that may very well be unachievable). In the meantime, I look forward to spending 2018 recklessly attempting to expand my daily schedule from eating, sleeping and working to eating, sleeping, working and making my fingers bleed from playing too much guitar. One step at a time, right?
C. Brian Smith, staff writer: Turning 40 [*gunshot*]
Josh Schollmeyer, editor in chief: No gunshot necessary for me. After many years of shaving 365 days from my age, I’m embracing 40 and no longer lying about being a younger man than I am. (That said, I’m positive I don’t look a day over 37.) I’m gonna be 40, and my insecurities are going to have to deal with it. I’m particularly interested in throwing a gigantic fucking celebration — complete with a bevy of passadores tasked with forking over skewer after skewer of meat to every important person in my life.
Short of that, I plan to head to San Francisco to spend as much time as possible at Smuggler’s Cove, the best tiki bar in the country where they basically only serve rum, which is essentially the thing that makes my body operate efficiently (much more so than air and water). I will sit at this very fancy bar and guzzle their finest rums like a demented pirate — or until diabetic shock sets in from all the sugary rum concoctions. Then I will stumble home with dignity like the elder statesman that I will officially be.
Jeff Gross, social media editor: I, for one, welcome my GOP tax cut.
Tim Grierson, contributing editor: The possibility of good movies and albums. We’re going to get Wes Anderson’s Isle of Dogs and a big new Avengers blockbuster. I’m curious what the standalone Han Solo movie will be like. As for music, Jack White will have a new record. So will My Bloody Valentine, Vampire Weekend and Nicki Minaj. It’s good to have entertainment to look forward to. Above all, though, there’s the Mueller investigation. I’m trying not to set my expectations too high. But I have my hopes.
John McDermott, senior staff writer: Engaging in more bad faith intellectual debates with faceless internet trolls who dare comment on my articles. Also, like Tim, the standalone Han Solo movie. Hell yeah. You could tell me the movie is nothing but 200 minutes of a CGI Harrison Ford showing his ass and shouting profanities at the camera, and I’d still pay $35 to see it in IMAX 3D.
Tierney Finster, contributing writer: Drinking less caffeine and telling more stories, particularly doing more live comedy readings and interviewing more experts in science, business and culture. I’m also ready to spend more time alone with my ideas instead of being such a social butterfly — I’ve hosted enough nightlife events in my life. (I’ll break this rule, however, for the right price, destination or venue.) Plus, I’ve got like six more weeks left of The Artist’s Way, so, as always, I’m expecting some significant spiritual and creative breakthroughs.
Andrew Fiouzi, assistant editor: A fairytale romance with a happily ever after ending. No more first, second and third dates. No more dinner conversations that make me want to excuse myself to the bathroom and go full Jim Carrey in Liar Liar to avoid having to spend one more minute faking it until we make it.
Erin Taj, art director: Smoking less weed and saving money.
Miles Klee, contributing writer: Smoking more weed and spending more money. Also, the final collapse of capitalism, after which we will finally, literally eat the rich. That’s right: It was never a metaphor. We need to be prepared with recipes. Right now, I’m thinking about some choice filets, glazed with sage-rosemary butter and seared to perfection in a Williams-Sonoma cast iron skillet. Brussels sprouts on the side and whatever those assholes had in their wine cellar to drink.