Posted tagged ‘DJ Stone Crazy’

Broke-Ass Friday: The Formal Edition

August 6, 2011

Last Friday, another Broke-Ass Friday was held at Little Fish-Huge Pond.  This time folks dressed up.

Daniel, Harry and Toasty.   The dressing-up was Toasty’s idea.

I don’t know this one’s name.  Yet, I see her every week-end at Little Fish.

Shaun and his date, a woman who really enjoyed the music I played.    She was one of few people who actually danced that night.

Daniel, Teresa and Harry.

Los Garcia and Chris.

After taking her photo, this cutie tells me she’s a model.   She’s welcomed to come back and model for me anytime.  Also, she just recently had a birthday.


Anna Molly wearing Daniel’s jacket and Toasty’s hat.

My buddy Eric stopped by after his job at the hospital.  As he sat behind me at my booth, the  dark-haired young lady in the photo struck up a conversation with him.  All the women love Eric.

Toasty’s hat again.

This wasn’t my idea.  Yet, I photographed it anyway.

Moire, the owner of Little Fish-Huge Pond.

Me, the DJ.

Photo by Teresa Markos.

The camera and I are ready for my next gig.

The Perks of being a DJ

August 4, 2011

Normally, I don’t play my Funky Lounge mix on Wednesday nights.  Yet, I decided to play it to an early crowd anyway.

An early crowd.

Right off the bat, as they drunk beer at the bar counter, two  women complemented the music.

About a half later, two more women entered the bar. As they both looked late thirties, they also looked white trash. Their hair looked greasy.  Also, the clothes they both wore appeared to be washed over and over until the colors faded.

Two white guys were already sitting on some sofas, two sofas that faced one another.  After buying their drinks, one of the women sat next to one of the guys.

I’m not an expert in this arena.  Yet, I wouldn’t be surprised if I heard the guy the woman sat next to engaged in man-on-man lovemaking.

Soon the two guys left.

Next, after one drink, the two white trash women began to leave too.  Before leaving, they exchanged words with the two women at the bar counter.

“Excuse me, “ I heard a voice say.

I knew who it was. Yet, I was in the middle of mixing one song to the next.

“Excuse me,” I heard again.

I looked at the woman who had sat next to the guy.

“Change the music,” she demanded.

“What do you want to hear?” I said.

“I don’t know. Not this,” she said.

I’ve been through this before, drunk women not telling me what they want.   Also, I’ve experienced not-all-that attractive women looking down on me as if I was beneath them.

“That ain’t helping me,” I said.

“See that girl sitting outside the window,” she said.


Yazmin and Red

She was referring to Red, a young lady who colors her hair bright red.

“Play what she would like,” said the woman.

“I don’t take requests like that,” I said.

I heard no more from her.  What was she going to do?  Tell the owner?

I guess some people see a DJ like they see a retail store employee, someone to walk over.  Yet, they don’t realize some DJs can cuss them out and get away with it.  Unlike a retail store employee, it’s hard to replace a decent DJ.  Especially one that brings the bar or club money.

Don’t get me wrong.  I’m not advocating cussing out patrons.  Continually doing that and a DJ will definitely get fired. Still, unlike a retail store employee, many DJs aren’t required to kiss ass.  Any bar or club owner requiring that is someone who shouldn’t own a bar or club in the first place.

That’s why I’m beginning to love DJing more and more.  Unlike a “real” job, most of the times, I don’t have to kiss ass.

Booze, Babes and Bar Fighting

July 2, 2011

Last night, I DJed Broke-Ass Fridays, a monthly event happening the first Friday of the month. The first of the month is rent and mortgage time, the time many people wind up broke. Thus the name Broke-Ass Fridays.

A happy patron at Broke-Ass Firdays.

On this night, it’s ten dollar all you can drink PBR draft.

A few folks were already in the bar as I began setting up. Mostly the over thirty crowd.

After setting up, more and more people entered.

I played a mixture of 70s, 80s and 90s music, and that contained a mix of pop, soul and rock.

Soon, someone started requesting modern rock. Due to constant rock requests during my past gigs, I had to rearrange my mix. Too much rock music runs patrons out of the bar, especially the aggressive kind containing the lead singer growling the lyrics. They sound somewhat like this: Rrraagge! Angerrrr! The Beeasst must diiiee!

That’s why I mix funkier music in between rock requests, to keep patrons from leaving. And folks have thanked me for it.

Around 10:30, I attempted a trivia game. By this time, the bar was packed. After I read a question off my laptop, whoever answered first got a prize, mostly stickers from a local radio station.

After the trivia game, people began leaving. And that didn‘t surprise me. I have seen this in other bars. You have both your before 12AM crowd and your after 12AM crowd. Before 12AM, things go dead temporarily.

By this time, the rage-anger-die requests started., which pissed off some patrons…even the white folks.

“What’s with this death metal shit?!”

Because the rage-anger-die people tipped, I couldn’t complain too loud about the music. Also, not many people was in the bar anyway. Still, I mixed funkier music in between the rage-anger-die requests.

After 12AM, just like I guessed, the bar began filling up again. Many of the rage-anger-die folks had already gone home.

As I grooved the atmosphere, a fight broke out. A Latin guy slammed a black guy against my equipment. The Latin guy was my buddy Chris. The black guy was a known troublemaker named Thaddeus. (Thaddeus is a known gay too.)

“Who’s gonna kill Mo?!” Chris yelled at Thaddeus.

Folks was holding Chris back as I attempted getting in between.

“Who’s gonna kill Mo?!” Chris yelled again.

Mo is the owner of the bar.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Thaddeus said.

He then got up and left the bar.

Later, folks told me Thaddeus posted nasty comments on FaceBook about killing Mo and burning the bar down. This after previous trouble he caused at the bar.

A young lady helped me put my equipment back together. Nothing got broke.

As she helped me, some nutcase attempted hitting on her.

“Don’t you see she’s working, man?” I told him.

The one on the left helped me put my equipment back together.

I pumped jams from all genres. I even dipped into sixties soul. Fuck trying to represent what makes real music. I didn’t care if it was a shitty pop song. If I felt it made women shake booty or caused a drunken sing-a-long, I played it.

As usual, after all the boozing and beats, the good time quickly ended. The last song was Garth Brooks “Friends In Low Places”, one of few country songs that I actually like.

Because of the good time I had, I can’t wait for next month.