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6:28 a.m. - 2005-04-18

DELIRIUM IS SETTING IN


Gah.

I'm SOOOO damned busy these days.

I'm not complaining.

Well ... I am.

But if you were to say "U.B. ... why the complaining, man?" I'd shift tones and say "Bitch, I ain't complainin'! You da bitch dat's complainin'!" and then Sherman Helmsley would walk in and say "Right on, brotha!" and we'd hit knuckles and the audience would applaud and another episode of "The Jeffersons 2005" would end on an upbeat note.

Friday night I had a party for a local accounting firm who were blowing off steam after the April 15th tax deadline had passed.

They had requested karaoke but they weren't sure anyone was going to sing.

This was the first party with my new state-of-the-art lighting system.

Gawwwd.

That took an hour and 20 minutes for me to set up.

The party started at 6 and I LITERALLY got everything up and running at 5:59.

And that was with the wiring for the lights all haphazard and hanging off this huge truss. It looked like you could be electrocuted just glancing at the shit.

The people in charge of the party had asked for karaoke but weren't sure anyone was going to try it.

Which is fine with me. You pay me $100 extra for karaoke. If nobody sings, nobody sings. I still walk outta here with an extra Benjamin Franklin grinning his ass off in my wallet.

They sang.

Hooooo boy .... did they sing.

Oen guy got up there to "try" it.

Then another guy stepped up while the first guy was singing and said he'd "try" it.

Then they just poured in.

Now, I have books that have all the selections in them. You take a book, you go sit down and find a song you want to sing, you fill out the slip, you bring it to me and you sing next.

It's that simple.

These people REFUSED to look at the books.

They just came up and said "I wanna sing Dock of the Bay".

Or "I wanna sing Summer Nights".

Or "I wanna sing an obscure Barbra Streisand song that has never even been released on karaoke."

I had SO MANY requests for songs I didn't have and I kept getting on the mic and (being nice)tried to get people to understand that these books on the table had everything listed that they could sing and to not give me slips of paper with song titles on them that I didn't have.

No such luck. These were ROGUE ACCOUNTANTS, BABY. They had their own f'n rules when it came to karaoke, bitch.

So that went on most of the night, punctuated by one guy's insistance to play pranks on people.

At first he brought me three slips with different people's names on them and songs they wanted to sing.

Well guess what?

These people hadn't agreed to sing those songs.

So I'd say stuff like "George! It's George's turn to sing!"

And a meek little accountant in the back of the room would peep "I can't sing!"

And the dick that turned in the slip laughed like a hyena.

Then "Bill! It's Bill's turn to sing!"

And Bill would raise his hand and shake his head "no" to the roar of the prankster.

Now ... normally at a party, I'd fake a good laugh and say "Great prank, prankster! You sure got me!"

...Because they're paying me hundreds of dollars to be nice.

But I ... well ... I kinda snapped after the fourth one.

"People," I said while I frantically tried to cue up the next selection since this dick had left me hanging with no music coming over the speakers. "I've got to ask that you only fill out a slip for yourself and not write someone else's name down who has no intentions of singing. It makes the night go a whole lot smoother."

Then I added, "It was only funny the first time."

A few people were visibly uncomfortable as they entertained visions of the DJ brandishing a machete and lopping off heads like a Viking warrior if they kept this kiddie shit up.

Then, about 30 minutes later, someone had handed me the Dick's name on a slip of paper.

They had on there that he was going to sing "Billie Jean".

So I called him up there and he walked up.

He took the mic.

And then he proceeded to not sing at all, rather he just kept saying "I don't know this song. I don't know this song."

That's why the FUCKING WORDS ARE ON THE SCREEN YOU FUCKING DUMBASS PRANKSTER MOTHERFUCKER WHO CAN'T FUCKING UNDERSTAND HOW FUCKING KARAOKE WORKS.

I just smiled politely as he put down the microphone and walked away, learning quickly how much fun it was when others pushed you up there only to make a dumbass of yourself.

He didn't bother me again the entire night.



This week I've got four parties from Wednesday to Saturday night. One party I'm really looking forward to is a college party. Gotta love the college parties. Those kids love to dance.

I'm having to hire other DJs to fill in at the club for me.

Next week is the worst.

Friday night I'm DJ'ing a fundraiser.

I start at 6 p.m.

I finish at 6 a.m.

On Saturday.

A 12 hour marathon for me.

I'm actually kind of pumped for it. There's going to be a large amount of people at the event and it's going to be a lot of fun.

However.

Saturday at 2 p.m. I have a wedding reception to do.

So, at 6 a.m. I begin tearing down all my stuff which takes about an hour now thanks to the firetrap which is my lighting system.

Then I drive the 30 minutes home, getting me at home at 7:30 a.m.

I then sleep four hours.

I get up and go do ANOTHER party.

Then I come home and crash like a mofo.



Today I'm going to the American C@ncer Society and proposing my plans for a 24 hour dance-a-thon to be held next year during their Rel@y For L!fe event.

It's too late to do it this year because the event's in a few weeks and I'm not part of it.

But I've given it a lot of thought and talked to one of the people with the ACS last week who was really jazzed about doing such a thing for next year.

Especially because dance-a-thons are a dying breed of fundraiser because nobody wants to do them or can do them right.

I can do it right.

How do I know this?

Because I am a survivor of a dance-a-thon, bitch ... that's how.

Even though it was 25 years ago, I remember it as if it were 24 years ago.

I've done the research.

And I've got the jamz that will make all the PYTs crunk.

Whatever that means.

Anyway ... start saving your pennies so you can fly in next year and participate in the dance-a-thon to end all dance-a-thons.

Word.

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