Funday ft. Mick Boogie

Holy shit, you guys! Last night at Funday, DJ Mick Boogie was the guest and he sure did the impossible. He managed to make me, uh…boogie with little to no alcohol. I’m the best party guest in the sense that with me, you just need to add alcohol and I’m good to go. I’m usually a happy drunk (though sometimes I do wanna punch bitches in they grill if they ackin stewpid), and therefore I don’t really find a lot of DJs “shit DJs”. Maybe that’s how so many shit DJs stay in business. Wait. That IS how a lot of shit DJs stay in business. Everyone’s too drunk to care or have a valid opinion! REVELATION-STATUS!!!

I actually dread the day a DJ I’m NOT a fan of comes to guest at Funday because I don’t know if I’m allowed to blast them on this blog that isn’t mine and I don’t want to be blacklisted from any place via stepping on the wrong people’s toes. That sounds a lot more sell-out-y than I’d like it to, but suffice to say, today is not that day.

I’ve been itching to write this blog entry since I got home last night, but thank jebus I waited because while not entirely shitfaced per usual, I wasn’t in the most sober mindset and it was probably best for my reputation if I went to bed instead of blogging my inappropriate sexual fantasies or something. That’s what Cragislist is for.

ANYWAY! Mick Boogie. Wow. I was near-sober and still dancing to every single track the dude dropped. Most memorable for me was “Little Bit” by Lykke Li into “Walking on a Dream”. I’ve been feeling “Little Bit” since I first heard of Lykke Li about a year ago but the remix that Mr. Boogie played was pretty, and excuse my use of this played out phrase, next level. He also played some Pharcyde– they’re a group I thought was pretty much my jam and my jam alone, but that’s just a peek at my self-important thinking. I was very happy to hear them someplace other than my iPod.

One of the highlights of the night for me was approaching someone I thought was DJ Price to say hello, and the guy wasn’t him. Feeling retarded and worried that people were watching (again with the self-important thinking), I told the guy to pretend he knew me and then made him go through a series of high fives, a fake hug, and a made-up-on-the-spot secret handshake. I’m a fool.

Sinatra came on at 2, which my body thought was still 1 (daylight savings? More like GAYlight savings time, am I right?) to wreck shop and remind me further that enjoying a DJ is still possible while literally sober (ayo/pause? Is “enjoying” a gay word? I don’t fucking know.) As an aside, is it just me being a dictionary nazi nerd or do you guys hate when people say “literally” for emphasis when they don’t mean literally at all?

This deserves mention, though. Sinatra played an unlikely trilogy of songs, “Imma be” by Black Eyed Peas into “We be Clubbin” by Ice Cube into “In Da Club” by Fiddy. My head LITERALLY…did not explode, but I was wilding.

Sinatra must have been afraid of the new grading system I’m putting in place in this blog called “Pleasing Suzu by Playing Rihanna” because he played 3 whole Rihanna jams (Hard, Rude Boy, and Whatever You Like, which is T.I. but, you know, extra credit). I would have to give him a B. He lost a letter grade when “Rude Boy” came on, I got off the cushy couch at Beni’s table to dance with Ben/B-Roc and Sinatch had the nerve to change the song. B-Roc, a person whose musical taste I know nothing about but I know loves the song “Rude Boy” as much as I do so that must mean he has good taste, and I were quite saddened. You better make this up to me.

In concloosh, it was another Funday for the books which started with me super sober-status dancing with Sinatra’s shorty (who is actually quite tall), Vanessa in the booth and ended with me tipsy dialing my best friend Taylor and sleeping alone after browsing Cragislist for dudes who get off on girls clipping clothespins on their balls. I’ve said too much.


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