What the hell was I doing before Spotify Premium?  Going through album reviews on Pitchfork, word of mouth, and full blown research on bands.  If I worked that hard at keeping in shape I could be doing photo shoots for the Lifestyle section of the Kitchener Record.

The idea of the Sunshine Girl and Boy in the Toronto Sun is outrageous.  This alone should be enough to tell you whatever political party the Sun is voting for that you should not.

Trudeau can nearly do anything that he wants and I will never think that it’s that bad because of Trump.  It’s kind of like when you are in a group of friends and one of them is always high on meth, in jail, or constantly plastered – it really doesn’t matter what happens; you will always be the golden boy that the wives will be ok with their husbands hanging out with.

Top 3 ways to make me instantly sad

3. Prevent me from petting a dog at a party. I will generally sneak a few pets in without Sara looking. She is allergic to dogs.  I think I have said that I didn’t want to go to a party if I couldn’t pet the dog.  This was a low point of my life.

2. Ask me to help you move. There isn’t an activity that I hate more than moving. At the start it’s ok, but after 10 minutes I begin to detest the things in the boxes.  “Screw you plates.  Haven’t used any of you in like a year, and you are heavy.”

1. Anything to do with heights. I walked over a bridge in Collingwood and was nervous.  Then a child that was about 4 was jumping up and down on the bridge (which had me grabbing the side).  Not my finest moment.

Many of you know that I’ve retired from DJ’ing.  I’m actually surprised it took me this long to do it.  Everything about it is against my personality.  Forced to play music that I detest, being stressed out due to being in charge of an important part of someone’s big day, and dealing with drunk women.  Let me explain the last part.  Now, not all women are like this, but a higher percentage than you think.  Here’s the general outline of the evening for this type of female.

6 pm – Third glass of wine goes down smoothly

6:47 pm – Starting to get sick of the dinner music (even though dinner is still happening)

7:32 pm – First gin goes down smooth (dessert is beginning to finish)

8:04 pm – Classic rock dance begins – what is this DJ doing? (Old people are still in attendance)

8:43 pm – I’m requesting songs – generally have a well thought out list at this point.  “Excuse me fine sir, do you take requests?  I believe these fine songs will get the crowd moving and shaking.”  I think to myself what a pleasant woman.

9:36 pm – “He’s only played one of the six that I requested.  What’s he doing up there?  Nobody cares about the Beatles.  Paul McCartney can go fu** himself.”

9:56 pm – Slams a third shot of tequila “woooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!”

10:32 pm – “You know what I want to hear? (Stands there for a second. I can see the hard drive in her brain struggling to spin) Ummmmmm, I forget what it is.  I’ll be back.”

11:28 pm – Voice level has raised.  It’s mostly just yelling random words in my ear.  I can usually make out the song though. “Dog, drunk, these shoes hurt, it’s hot in here, Despacito, Despacito, Despacito,” I’m assuming you want to hear Despacito?

12:24 am – “What’s the fu**ing song that goes huuuuum, muuuuaaah, saaaaaaaa.  You know the one.  It’s always on the radio.  Fu*****************” (there are about 23 people remaining.  Mixture of the family that have to clean up after and a wasted group of friends)

1:03 am – As I’m beginning to wind down the end.  “PLAY BABY’S GOT BACK” (Aunt June looks at me with disapproving eyes.  Sorry June, I have to do what she says.  I’m afraid of her)

1:09 am – I clean up at a mad pace