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10:49:07 - 2000-06-25

THE NIGHT THEY DROVE OL' DICKSEY DOWN

Fuck Almighty, I'm tired.

Wheeeeel...last night's deejay gig was a HUGE bust.

I mean ... I'm staring at $150...so no bitching in that department.

But jeez...I was AT LEAST expecting a crowd.

I got there at 8 p.m. and there were MAYBE 25 people in the bar.

I introduced myself to the bartender and she was just flabbergasted to be meeting THE Uncle Bob.

*sigh*

If only these people that I come into contact with read this diary...maybe THEN they'd shower me with false idol worship.

I get my stuff set up, which didn't take nearly as long as I expected, so I asked the bartender if it'd be okay if I got started about an hour early.

She thought I was insane, but said "sure".

So I surveyed the crowd. Mostly people in their late 40s-early 50s.

I started playing Motown and 60s music.

A few toes were caught tapping.

I got on the microphone and informed the crowd that I hadn't done this in a while, I was rustier than an antique fork, but I was willing to play any requests that they may have.

ONE GUY came up.

ONE.

"Do you have Sexual Healing by Marvin Gaye," this big-assed dork asked.

"Why yes my good man, I do," I answered.

I played the song. He sat on his bar stool and gave me a thumbs up.

Ummmmm...okay...I was hoping he'd get up and dance with SOMEBODY. Hell...dance by himself if he had to.

Hmmmm...a big dork dancing by himself to "Sexual Healing".

Heh...cracks me up anyway.

As the clock chimed 9, people began getting up and leaving.

Yes, I took it personally.

Yes, the employees told me to not take it personally.

"These are older customers," the bartender told me. "They ALWAYS leave by 9."

I knew what she was talking about. My parents go to a little tavern in their town and are ALWAYS gone by 9. That's just how old people are. They get tanked and then take off by 9.

It's old people rules. Rule # 314 if I'm not mistaken.

By 10:00 we have about 12 people in the bar. I've given up any hope of a "party" breaking out and have reduced myself to playing employee requests.

"PLAY LIMP BISKIT, DUDE!!!" one of the barbacks yelled...thinking he had stumped ol' Uncle Bob.

Heh.

So I played the explicit version of "Nookie". The song got a loud holler from the guys behind the bar.

One of them came over and asked me if I had any Adam Sandler.

"The only Adam Sandler song I've got is 'At A Medium Pace'," I told him.

I thought the guy was going to shit his britches.

"OH MAN, YOU'VE GOT TO PLAY THAT," he yelled.

(I have no idea why he was yelling. Maybe all the beers he had drank since he got off an hour early...I dunno)

I told him I didn't want to get in trouble, so go ask the female bartender (who was in charge) if it'd be okay if I played it.

The female bartender had never heard the song. None of them had.

For those of you who've never heard the song...it's a slow romantic ballad...the first verse is pretty legit...the second verse starts off with Adam crooning "Spit on your hand and stroke my cock at a medium pace....Play with my balls and tell me how big they are...Honey, rub your beaver up and down my face...Sit on the corner of the bed and watch me WACK OFF".

...It gets worse ...

It had the employees and what few customers in there grinning. I hadn't offended anyone.

...But I achieved cool status amongst the employees. And that was my goal last night...impress the employees.

Why???

Because if the employees are on YOUR side and see that you have the goods to get a party started when there ain't a party...you'll be asked back.

Three of the employees told me I was better than their regular D.J. Which is about the highest compliment you can pay a stand-in D.J.

...I knew I was better than their regular D.J. without ever hearing the guy play.

Without sounding too egotistical...and I know this will...but I'm a DAMNED GOOD deejay.

I spent almost ten years doing it, and twenty years preparing for it. Throughout the 80s I was the best damned D.J. this city had ever seen.

That's not a lie. That's fact, Jack.

I'm THAT damned good at it.

I dance by myself in the booth. When I talk over the P.A., I make sure it's something witty. And I NEVER talk while people are dancing. Nothing more annoying than dancing to a deejay's voice.

AND I play requests as soon as I get them. Which believe it or not, most deejays will try to get out of.

AND ...I don't have the usual deejay "ego".

Oh...sure...I've got it right now as I type this. But I DON'T act like hot shit while I'm at the club.

...Only for you people...

*grin*

Grand total of dancers...three couples...NEVER at the same time, so ONE COUPLE would dance at a time.

The employees apologized profusely, saying they wish they had a better and bigger crowd for me to have deejayed for.

I told them since I was "rusty", I'm glad it was a small crowd. I probably would have screwed up royally with a big crowd.

They couldn't believe I was rusty. They kept saying I was doing "great".

....Well...maybe that's because you guys are used to a guy in his late 50s playing your tunes with the energy of a sloth and the ego of Bill Gates.

Sooo...it was NOT the night I was expecting.

Hell...there was no way I could anticipate a night THAT bad.

But I'm staring at $150, and that's way cool.

Oh.

And a friend of mine that I've known for 16 years is dating the owner of the bar. And HE loves me. He came up, shook my hand and kept saying how he couldn't believe I was there in "his" club, deejaying.

Like it was an honor or something. Like Fatboy Slim showed up at the door to spin the steel wheels and the stacks of tracks.

...So I'm keeping my fingers crossed for more chances to entertain old folks for $150.

Bring it on.

I can kiss geriatric ass ALL NIGHT for $150.

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