DJ (short for Dream Job)

Jesus Christ! I just heard hot chip followed by Ratata and then !!! (chk chk chk). That’s it. I’ve got a new dream job. I want to be a DJ on satellite radio. I’ll move to NYC and live in the lower east side and share an office with Howard Stren and Snoop Dogg and Martha Stewart. Occasionally I'll bump into Joan Jet and be like, “hey Joan Jet…umm...your set made me wet.” And then run down the hall giggling at all my rhymes. Every other Thursday I'll hang out with Matt Pinfield and kiss his ass and be like, “hey Matt Pinfield you totally know so many more bands than me!” But the best part of my dream job as a DJ on satellite radio will be knowing that off somewhere away from the city, perhaps in the mountains, someone is listening to my set. Miles from no where, she can’t even get cell phone reception or FM reception. If a tree fell in the woods she’d be the only one to hear it smash. But it would be smashing to the beat of my set blasting on her satellite radio. Goddamn, that’s some kind of power!