Hey Mister Deejay, put that record on…

Last night¹ was the last hurrah for Ten56/Sweet Alice. And it was a humdinger. My apologies, though, to the other DJs of the evening. See, Rudy and I were slotted to spin a couple times last night but when it became apparent it was going to be a metaphorical rumble for sound turf I decided it was time to muscle my way in. The other DJs were awfully good but they were just so insistent on playing the hip to the hop, which is all well and good but they seemed to be missing a simple point. Hip-hop had its place at Ten56, and made the bar a ton of money on Saturday nights, but at its base the bar was a rock and/or roll joint through and through.

I mean yeah, I and the crowd dug some of the bass heavy jams last night and we got out shimmy-shimmy shake on, but Jesus Christ man, when I played a Weezer song PEOPLE WERE JUMPING UP AND DOWN ON TOP OF TABLES. So while I’m sorry I muscled my way in (verbatim conversation from last night was Rudy saying, “Dude, I’m leaving. There’s like ten guys lined up to spin.” and me saying, “I don’t think so. I’m closing the night out no matter what.”) I think in the long run everyone involved had a motherfucking blast.

As for the rest of the weekend, Photogal is out of town² so it’s rock and/or roll shows and parties and barbecues all weekend long. Yee-haw!

¹Don’t even ask about Wait, Wait Don’t Tell Me. Even though I left work at 4:30 traffic was so fucking bad I didn’t get home until after the show had started taping. That’s right. It took me almost three fucking hours to get home. Even when I plan ahead I can’t win, can I?

²She’s been gone, what, an hour? And I already miss her. I’m a dork.