please forgive me...I was tired and irrational and Michael Bolton can suck it
Friday, May 22, 2009 at 11:38PM
It’s time to stop doing weddings. I never want to do another f@#king wedding in my life. I don’t care if my mom sends a message from beyond and says, “I can only come back if you harmonize the marital bliss between me and living flesh.” I’ll say hell no. I’m not going to do it. She’ll want some bullsh#t song and like last night, tired, my left eye not even workng, I’ll have to surf the forgotten nethers of the ‘net to find it. I had to keep closing my left eye and focus on the screen with my right, searching for this song, “Love is a Beautiful Thing.” But not the new country version, and I'd asked the bride and groom, “Do you mean Al Green?” and they said no, it’s “Love is a Beautiful Thing,” but really inspiring. And then late last night in the mist of sleep deprivation I figured it out: inspiring = hokey. Hokey = Michael Bolton. They meant “Love is a Wonderful Thing.”
My kids are in bed, my wife is in bed, my dog is in bed, the cat’s…somewhere—we never know where the cat is—and I’m awake, not writing, not creating, not doing anything but looking for a f@cking Michael Bolton song. And I found it on Itunes. And you can’t just buy “Love is a Wonderful Thing” as a single. You have to buy the whole goddamn album.
Michael Bolton, people don’t like you enough to buy the whole goddamn album. You’re just hanging on with this little gimmick designed to f*ck the wedding deejay. F#ck this. No more weddings.
Why do weddings? I do it because I like to please people. Everywhere I go people are getting married. They say, “Hey, can you deejay our wedding?” And I say, “Sure!” and the next thing you know I’m the asshole deejay. Deejaying a goddman wedding. Wedding deejay. Yah. “What do you do?” people will ask me. And I say, “I’m a friend. Just a friend doing this as a favor. I can’t even say “wedding deejay.” It’s painful. Soul devouring. I put people with real talent out of work.
I’m going to give my wife a Taser, and anytime someone asks about some event or some nuptials they want deejayed or emceed and I leap forward to say “yes!” I get Tasered. If I say anything that sounds like the consonant “y”—“ye”, “ya”, “yu”, “yo”—I get f#cking Tasered into the ground. Sarah can stand on me and melt me to whatever surface my people-pleasing ass is sitting on.
My friend Ashley gave me the book, “The Disease to Please,” and I told her I couldn’t read it because I’d only do it to please her. I’m not going to read it. I don’t need to. I just know that now for over a decade I wasted a whole lot of f#cking time saying “yes” to things and they’ll say, “oh, we’ll pay you!” and I’ll say, “No!” and then I’m up late looking for a f#cking Michael Bolton song.
