Bang. Bang. Ba. Ng.

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Roxanne – Strange Talk

Birthday. Birthmonth. Bert on! Beach. Party. Celebration. Malibu. Malibooze. Maliboobs! Paradise. Cove. Kaw. Bird. Shrimp. Wine. Cocktails. Lounge chairs. Hi life. Hello living. Drink. Glass. My. Hand. Gulp. Pause. Laugh. Another drin- Plop. Huh? Seagull. Kaw. Kaw. KAAWW! Flying. Attacking. Dropping. Dumping. Plopping. Into. Glass. Hand. Mine. Dunk. Lucky? Me!

So that was a fun birthday. Speaking of… Continue Reading »

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Oops, I Did It Again!

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Today was a tale of two jobs. With the outcome more or less the exact same – all work and no pay. I have a feeling it will be a looong post, so I will break it up into two, one for each fun job!

First on the agenda, was my DJ’ing debut in the gym. Mucho gracias to everyone on Spacebook that suggested songs for me to play, they were highly appreciated. Even though I actually did not use any of them this time. However, they did lead me down the long tail to finding ridiculously good remixes and bootlegs of class songs. So, once again, thanks for the indirect help. And to everyone on Twitter who might read this and did not bother to suggest anything at all, ye pr**ks, let me down.

With my music sorted, and my new brilliant DJ software in tow, I was highly pumped to get the gym rocking. And, this time, I wouldn’t just be pleasing big gay Jim on his own, I would get to please the whole gym of gay dudes, with the splattering of hot women, orgy on! In I went, confidently striding up to the front desk, unlike the last time. I am here to DJ. The guy at the front desk gives me the nod, I am good to go.

Up to the equipment and set up my gear. Which consists of my laptop, a lead to connect it to the sound system (they have it already, good waste of $18, a lot on my budget) and my headphones. I soon find out only my laptop is needed, headphones are props too it seems. I realize that the slot needed to connect to the sound system is where my headphones go. Headphones are needed for effect at least, so I plug them into the next and only other available slot, no sound comes through them, but at least it looks more legit than being caught with them not hooked up to anything but stuck in my pocket! I would now be mixing using headphones that will actually block out the music, ha, should be even easier now.

However, the minute the first song goes on, I know I am in a different type of trouble. I pick a remix of a well known song, not too left-field and well suited for a gym vibe. The people I can see in my vicinity perk up their ears. I can see the puzzled look of them recognizing the song kind of, they know those lyrics, but not the beat or the music. But their feet are tapping, hips are popping, asses shaking and heads are bopping. Oh no, this has started too well. There is only one way this is going and I am not ready for it after the big gay Jim incident

The song kicks in and the magic happens. Big gay Jim comes flaming out of nowhere “I love this song, pump it up!!!!” No problem Jim, where’s the volume though? Ha, amidst a sea of buttons and knobs, on the sound board obviously, I find the volume and we’re off! Here’s the opener… Smells Like Neon Spirit by Nirvana vs Disco Trash Music

Not one to blow my own trumpet, but I have done well and picked my music wisely. The place is soon rocking. The only mistake I feel is choosing Boyz by M.I.A (“where my boys at”) but going well besides that. I am getting away on the mixing side of things (end a song and start the next one with similar beats, blend, hope for the best, DJ on!) and big gay Jim wont stop giving me the thumbs up. Before I go any further, a Seinfeld joke springs to mind. One of his stand-up jokes is of how people take compliments about their clothes so personally. As in, if someone says “Nice jacket” the person wearing it might take the compliment too much to heart, as if they had personally stitched and hand made the jacket. When, all they did was pick it out and wear it. 

So, when people start coming up to me to compliment me on ‘my’ music, I give a thanks, they’re not actually my songs, I am a great picker though, cheers. The hardest part I found was making myself look busy up there and as if I was doing something. Headphone to one ear held up with one hand, fool around on my keyboard with the other, blend the two songs, look busy. It is all going swimmingly well, until my laptop crashes ruining my mixing, ha. At least two guys starting doing a fake chant “We want more, we want more” and then a big gay “Yaaaaaaay” when it was back up and running. 

The requests for Britney and Madonna are non-stop too, cliche on! A few people are even asking me for my DJ card, eh, what’s that? One guy, however, who is blatantly not a fan, is the guy behind the counter. I notice that when my head is up from pretending to be busy, he pretends to like it and bop a bit. But, when he thinks I am not looking, there is no foot tapping or bopping, until he sees me again, then spoof dances. The song I just put on is a long one, so having nothing to do, I decide to stare him down, to see if he cracks and just admits he doesn’t like it. Stubborn little guy though, he fake dances his heart out for me, I appreciated it.

Surprisingly, even a girl came up to compliment the music as well. Enthusiastic and popping off walls, she comes bouncing up to me, blah blah blah, what’s your name? She asked me this just when a song was changing, so I had to pretend to be busy and mixing. I tell her “Two secs there” as in, hang on two minutes, while I do this, and I will tell you then. She obviously understands me word for word, responds with “Tsector, what an awesome name, good job!” and off she bounces again before I could speak anymore hubbula hubbula to her. Unfortunately too, there was no sign of Bros, so his song will have to remain on ice until the next day.

My two hour set finishes up, I am pumped to the max, head is inflating from the new found respect I have from the gym staff and I manage to get Jim to realize it will never happen. As I am hobbling downstairs from the DJ area  (knee is still dodge), Jim is squealing in joy, balls, I made it too good again. Merrick, awesome, woah, I am sweating after that, and he then starts to tell me how much better it was than he thought it would be (the music and my DJ’ing, obviously). I am concentrating on my hobbling and the stairs and when he notices my gimp limp, asks why am I hobbling. Soccer, crocked, rar diddy rar. “Ooooo, you play soccer? What don’t you do?!!” Eh, men, for one Jim, sorry to disappoint. Ha, even if the guy behind the counter didn’t like my music, he laughed at my joke. In fairness to big gay Jim, he took it well too. The joke, obviously!!!

Song of the day, there could’ve been so many, but here’s a good one to make people think you can mix… Roxanne (DiscoTech Remix) by The Police