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9:47 a.m. - 2004-05-13


Hey ya.

Glad you all liked The Christians' new single that I posted yesterday.

Eventually I'll get around to posting the "Extended Mix" of the tune which was the last version we did. If you thought the original was painful, this version will send you to the hospital.

But it includes me doing a little rapping myself as well as some really crappy DJ speak to introduce the boy. And some really bizarre scratching techniques that I invented on the fly in order to drown out the kid's voice.

But Dennis is a pro and just yells over my scratching.

Next stop ... American Idol.

Susie won some contest yesterday.

Her company, a home improvement chain whose name is the opposite of "Highs" offered its employees a chance to win some great prizes.

Ten employees were selected out of the thousands that work for them.

She was one of the ten.

And as a result, she won a $500 gift card from the company.

She's positively giddy. She started calling everyone she knew to tell them that she won.

It's a nice prize and all.

But when it all comes right down to it all she won was $500 worth of lawn fertilizer.

Because I need some lawn fertilizer.

And that shit's expensive.

No pun intended.

The loser bar that I work in finally wised up and cut me back to only one night a week ... Tuesday night.

When I first started in February, I was working Tuesday, Friday and Saturday.

Then they hired this sleazy alcoholic chick to work the weekends, thinking that'd bring the women in.

Yeah. Hot women REALLY want to come in and flirt with an aging Jagermeister-sucking barfly who doesn't know shit about DJing. Smart move management.

So I was shifted to Tuesday and Wednesday night.

No qualms about that. I don't give a shit when I work, just pay me.

Last Wednesday I called in "sick" to that bar so I could work in my new bar who needed me because they had a Cinco de Mayo celebration going on which we made $4,000 from.

Meanwhile, the loser bar made a grand total of $65 on the same night.

So the manager told me she had to cut me back to just Tuesday nights. Rather than realize that the reason the bar made so little money could have been because there wasn't a DJ in the booth, she figures it was a good thing that the bar was totally silent on Cinco de Mayo.

I was hardly crushed since I was about to tell her that I wanted to be cut back to just Tuesday nights because the other bar needs me Wednesday-Saturday.

But I kept my trap shut about that.

The manager also hinted that she was about to fire the alcoholic chick because she apparently cussed out a band over the microphone a few weeks ago and made the daytime bartender cry and quit when she called her a "Fat fucking cow" at an employee meeting last week.

In the alcoholic's defense, the bartender in question was a bit overweight and smelled faintly of cow shit.

So the manager is about to can the alkie and kept telling me "IF you know what I mean".

Which at the time, I took to mean that she was going to fire the drunk.

It wasn't until I drove home Tuesday night that it dawned on me.

"IF you know what I mean" meant "You're about to be working Tuesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday".


That'd be well and good if I wasn't already working those nights in a bar that actually does some kick-ass business.

So I'm going to let the manager fire the drunk and when she comes to me all "I need you to work four nights a week" I'm just going to say "Hey, sorry. When you cut me back to one night a week, I had to go out and get another job in a better bar making more money and having a better time doing it."

And then the manager will be stuck without a DJ on the weekends.

And then she'll lose her job.

Which is cool because I don't really care for the woman anyway. If she was worth a shit at her job, we'd have people in the club rather than 3-4 60 year-old drunks sitting at the bar wondering where the hell they screwed up in life.

I've tried to get her to do other promotions besides Karaoke three nights a week and bands on the weekend, but she doesn't want to do anything different.

Even though the club is suffering horribly because nobody wants to do karaoke or listen to the redneck bands we keep booking over and over again.

So screw it.

And if I lose my Tuesday night gig because of this tomfoolery, I'll cry all the way to the other club.


Just watch me.

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