1.30.2004

"We're going to dance now. Please take it up a notch." 

Thanks for checking in, homeslice!

My Thursday Night Observation: When the place you're DJing at isn't officially a dance club, you're not obligated to cater to their every whim, right? How about if they come back to the booth and tell you all stern-like that they're ready for you to start entertaining them? I didn't think so, but I just wanted to make sure.

This week's version of the Lord Finesse Exception (see below): I declare that requesters can be as formal as they wanna be if if they are so eager to cut a rug they don't even wait for us to mix into something obvious and start dirrrty-dancing to Mobb Deep instead. Gully, but a little weird.

(The other exception is if they say, "You know, a little Anita would definitely set this party off right.")

I went into Boston the other night and I can't wait for beisbol season to resume. Fenway may be buried in snow and ice, but somewhere within those walls, Nomar Garciaparra is getting even more swoll than ever. Dude's going to have no neck by Opening Day. Somewhere else, Manny Ramirez is starting for Game Eight to start.

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