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8:10 a.m. - 2008-05-02


Hey, how are ya?

Had a weird night last night.

I was doing this corporate party and everyone's getting good and drunk and dancing and squealing, etc.

There was this little woman in a wheelchair. You couldn't miss her. If someone had come up to me and said "Hey, you see that woman in the wheelchair over there?" I would NOT have said "Hmmm ... which one??"

I mean ... she was the only wheelchair lady in the whole place.

Technically, in my head, as I was assigning total strangers nicknames in my head just like I always do when I'm in a room full of strangers, I got lazy and just gave her the nickname of "Wheelchair Lady".

And that's what we'll call her here because I have no idea what her real name is.

Could be Madge, I guess. But she was too small for a "Madge". Most Madges are big boned ladies. The only Madge I ever knew was a manicurist who made her clients soak their nails in dishwashing soap.

True story.

Anyway, about four hours into this party, it became apparent that Wheelchair Lady was a bit tipsy.

I noticed this because she was out on the crowded dance floor, slowly swaying her wheelchair back and forth with her eyes closed and her face pointed toward the ceiling.

It was like she was on an acid trip or something.

So I'm not really paying much attention to her because I'm paid to work and not scope out the handicapped chicks and as I'm going through my CDs trying to find "Sweet Child Of Mine" by Guns 'n' Roses, she wheels up behind me and nudges me with her foot plate. That ... thing where her foot rests on the wheelchair. The steel thing.

It kind of frightens me at first because I didn't see her and when you're in the dark, you're not anticipating something metal digging in to your ankle. In all honesty, I thought a robot dog had tried to bite me.

I whipped around to beat a robot dog when I saw Wheelchair Lady with the drunkest grin on her face that I've ever seen.

"Hey," she slurs.

"Hey, what can I do for ya?" I said.

IMMEDIATELY I wanted to retract that statement because there was probably a slew of things she could come back with to that statement.

"Help me walk again".

"Put some playing cards in the spokes of my wheels."

"Cure polio".

So I prepared myself for the worst.

"Do you have "I Wanna Sex You Up" by Color Me Badd?" she asked with a crooked grin.

Between you and me ... I've got it.

Between you and me ... I ain't playing it.

That song was popular 15 years ago for about a week and a half.

Today if you put it on (and yes, I've tried) people groan like they've been punched in the kidneys with the butt end of a telephone pole.

"Oh wow!" I said in my patented sympathetic DJ tone. "Great song! No, I had it for the longest time and then my Color Me Badd CD broke one day. Magically. Just split in two. It was a miracle really if you want to look at it that way."

Wheelchair Lady's face went from drunkenly stupid to drunkenly enraged.

"What do you mean you don't have it?" she spat. "Every DJ has that song."

Whoa there, Wheelie. Back the fuck up in small little wheel rotations.

"I had it," I said. "The CD broke and I never got around to replacing it."

Here's where she got me.

"Well what am I supposed to do?" she asked.

Jeebus Christ.

How the hell do you answer that?

A) "You're supposed to understand that if you request a song titled "I Wanna Sex You Up" that doesn't necessarily convey the message to whoever you're dancing with that you want to cover their sheets in sex juice. It's just a fucking song, Wheelie."

B) "You're supposed to back the fuck up and let me play music that's actually relevant to a party in 2008 and songs that people would like to hear ... not that screechy teeny bopper bullshit."

Once again, a slew of answers for her.

The answer I went with was "Hey, I've got lots of great songs coming up that I'm sure you're going to love. I PROMISE you'll love 'em!!"

Apparently that was the wrong answer.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Bob. Why?" I answered.

"Who hired you?" she asked.

What. The. Fuck.

Now she's wanting to report me for not having a cheesy one hit wonder band from the 90s?

Wheelie was copping a major attitude with me over fucking Color Me Badd?!?

Now I am well aware of the fact that there are some handicapped people out there with chips on their shoulders and honestly, those chips are there for good reason. Some feel as if they've been dealt a bad hand in life while others take their fates and make do the best they can with what God has dealt them.

But honestly, I've never had a 90-lb woman in a wheelchair get all bully on my ass.

I told her who hired me and she said "I'm talking to her."

I wasn't really concerned because I had already been paid in cash. Go right ahead, Wheelie. Talk her ear off. I'm still going to the bank in the morning.

Wheelie took off, headed for the woman who hired me and bent her ear over the fact that I didn't have her cheesy-assed shitty song.

Hiring Lady just nodded and smiled.

Ten minutes later she came over to me and I smiled and said that Wheelie got a bit upset over her request.

"Don't mind her," she said. "She's one of the most negative people we have in the company."

That made me feel better.

But seriously ... if you're woman in a wheelchair who weighs less than a hundred pounds and you wanna come up and get in my belt buckle while copping an attitude with me?

Step off, woman.

I'll tip your ass over like a turtle on its back and we'll see how sassy you are then.

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