...then you saw this guy.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Monday, January 12, 2009
Quit Acting Like a Drunken Fool and Respect the DJ ("Don't Be THAT Guy") - Tip #1
Being a karaoke DJ (or "KJ"... god that sounds lame) sometimes requires much patience. This is generally true at the very tail end of the evening. The DJ is 99.9% of the time going to be far less inebriated than those who have made it to the point of the evening where the (ugly) lights have been turned on and you have been told to go home. We've all been there... you're super hammered, but not sickeningly so... you just don't want the good time to end, you're grasping at the last remnants of your good time, afraid that any change in scenery will no doubt wreck your flow.
But don't be this guy. The guy who demands, "DUDE! I gotta sing one more song!!!"
"C'mon man, just one more song, it'll be awesome. C'mon bro. It'll rock, I'm serious. Let's do it. C'mon. Are you for real? Just one more. C'mon. The manager said it was cool. Please, just one more. C'mon dude."
Dude. GIVE IT UP. The night is over. You're obviously not getting laid, and you're shitcanned. This isn't going to be some sort of mind-blowing, transcendent performance that's going to make me re-evaluate the nature of my existence. I want to go home. The bartenders and staff want to go home. IT'S OVER. How many times do I have to tell you "no"? Why do you feel compelled to insist that I stroke your ego so you can perform "American Pie" to the eight people left in the bar? That shit is SEVEN MINUTES LONG. At 2am, slightly buzzed and exhausted, that will feel like another four hours of being subjected to your banshee wailing. I will, however, make one exception.
I will let you sing one more song, if I can come to your job and demand that YOU work unpaid overtime!
But don't be this guy. The guy who demands, "DUDE! I gotta sing one more song!!!"
"C'mon man, just one more song, it'll be awesome. C'mon bro. It'll rock, I'm serious. Let's do it. C'mon. Are you for real? Just one more. C'mon. The manager said it was cool. Please, just one more. C'mon dude."
Dude. GIVE IT UP. The night is over. You're obviously not getting laid, and you're shitcanned. This isn't going to be some sort of mind-blowing, transcendent performance that's going to make me re-evaluate the nature of my existence. I want to go home. The bartenders and staff want to go home. IT'S OVER. How many times do I have to tell you "no"? Why do you feel compelled to insist that I stroke your ego so you can perform "American Pie" to the eight people left in the bar? That shit is SEVEN MINUTES LONG. At 2am, slightly buzzed and exhausted, that will feel like another four hours of being subjected to your banshee wailing. I will, however, make one exception.
I will let you sing one more song, if I can come to your job and demand that YOU work unpaid overtime!
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