Surely I'm not the only man out there with a latent fantasy about being a strip club DJ. Oddly enough, the prospect of hooking up with multiple strippers has nothing to do with mine. Instead, I put the "last night a DJ saved my life" motif into action by playing father figure, diligently helping the T-back clad ladies I spin for out of harrowing addictions and destructive relationships.
A quick peep at Zac Crain's enlightening exposé on Dallas-area strip club DJs in this week's Dallas Observer shows this ridiculous rescue fantasy to be just as delusional as the ones harbored by customers. Nevertheless, I found a new role model to aspire to in the Clubhouse's Dr. Rock, a motor-mouthed, feather-headed fiftysomething who's been DJ'ing at strip clubs for almost two decades. Perhaps there's still time for me yet.
Right now, I'm going to forgo the obvious boob segueway to mention H-E-B's very good deal on large California navel oranges for 39 cents a pound. While not as sweet and juicy as Florida's Indian River oranges, these suckers are as big as small grapefruits and filling enough to be meals in themselves. Sale ends this Tuesday.
Friday, January 28, 2005
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5 comments:
My strip club DJ fantasy has always been the same as any other DJ fantasy: to get decent music on the air. Wouldn't you much rather watch Starbright shaking her nekkid groove thang to Earth Wind & Fire, Sly Stone or something from the P-Funk empire rather than bad hair metal or the latest soundalike rap hit?
Michael
I've heard other guys comment about their strip club DJ dreams. It would be kind of fun, I guess. I think I might play "Hot for Teacher" over and over again.
Thanks for the H.E.B. orange sale tip! I think this should be a recurring feature on your blog.
Terri R.
If I was a strip club DJ, I might bring the mood away from "forced gaiety" to "authentically depressing." Who wouldn't want to watch naked interpretive dance to Joy Division or Nick Drake?
The first time I ever went to a strip club as an underage lad in New Orleans, one of the girls danced to "Moonshadow" by Cat Stevens. In my somewhat limited strip club patronage, that's still the strangest song choice I've ever witnessed.
Your story reminded me of a low-budget porn i watched recently in a hotel in Wichita. Only George was the bartender, not the DJ. George helped the ladies when the club was going under. I'm confident you could help the dancers just as he did.
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