I'm no DJ Quick, but...

Now those of you who know me know that I am painfully shy in social settings. This being said recently I began DeeJaying in local bars for some extra cabbage. Now this is not DJ Danger mouse battling DJ GQ at the underground hot spot to see who is the master of scratching. This is just some lame-o wedding style DeeJaying. I put the CD in I press play when said CD comes near an end I start the new CD. Easy-peasy-double cheesy-I like my girls Japaneesy. But the benefits to such a gig is that I hangout for 3-4 hours a couple a nights a week, listen to music (mostly stuff I don't enjoy) drink and eat for free and at the end of the night I get 50 big ones and 85 on Saturdays. Another perk is the interaction with the locals. Now as it stands I am DeeJaying in an ultra-black ghetto bar and if you don't already know I am white. Although 99.9 % of the people who go this bar are cool and I am not a descendent to slave owners in any aspect I was still quite nervous before my first show. So nervous I almost wore a shirt that said "don't shoot the DJ" but I figured I didn't want to plant any ideas. Now I went to a High School that was a majority of black kids so upon entering the bar (let's just call it Blue Lou's) I realized that a good number of the patrons were people I graduated with some 10 years prior. Needless to say the bullet proof vest was never required.

So jump ahead about 2 or 3 months into the gig. I'm going through my normal motions. Open/Load/Close/Play/Stop/Open/Load/Close/Play....you get the idea. When this gentleman walks in wearing a Sean John sweatsuit with a hi-fade,some diamond earrings and a gold chain. Nothing out of the ordinary right? Did I mention he was white? with red hair? with fake diamond earrings that looked like something a grandmother would clip on right before a holiday dinner? with gold chains that would look like skinny, cheap jewelry if they were hanging from a Somalians neck? well all of this is true. So he comes over to my table and requests "That new Akon shit" so I politely inform him that it's old skool night and I don't play anything past 2000. So with a blank expression that is reserved for Brooke Hogan when you try to explain to her what tone deaf is, he looks down then up and says " What do I want to hear" I respond with " I don't know, maybe a rap song" he says " yeah let me think about that" now I'm the one left with the blank expression. So after twenty minutes or so he returns with "you got any Master P" it took you 20 minutes to think of that ass clown, I mean seriously. I thought this dude was doing some serious old skool homework in his head. Racking his brain for some classic rappers like Rakim, Krs-One or Big Daddy Kane. Nope Master P was all he could muster up. After I inform him that I do not have any Master P he shakes his head yes and says "I'm a rapper". No wonder he has no memory of some of the greatest rappers of all-time his head is filled with all of those rhymes. He then asks if I could play Tupac's Dear Momma. I said sure and he says and I shit you not "My mom just died yesterday". Now he didn't say this while choking back tears, he didn't say this in a shy I don't want to divulge personally information, but the weight of this is killing me. No he says it like he's asking for gum, I'm not sure but I swore I heard a "spfft" at the end of the my mom died comment. I'm not positive, but if pressed in the court of law I'd say I heard it. What a strange fellow. Then he walked off like Gary Cooper in some old western. except this cowboy was wearing Moccasins, thats right Motherfucking Indian shoes. I can tell this job is going to give me a lot of great stories, and I am just fine with that.