Who's House?....DMC's House!

Last night, I interfaced with one of rap's forefathers. He called Jam Master Jay, one of the founders of the original Scratch Academy in NYC, his DJ and good friend. Yes, for our last session of DJ 101, DMC was in tha house!

Mr. Choc gave him an intro, then asked a circle of stunned DJ wannabes if we had any questions. DJ Hope just sputtered, "Is it really you??"

He reminisced about the starting days of Run DMC, and told us how Run DMC convinced the music biz that turntables WAS the band. Run DMC was all about breaking the standard as kids fresh out of high school. Twenty years later, DMC is about to drop his first solo album in hopes of keeping up that tradition. After shaking hands and signing autographs all around, giving his props to Jay, and motivating mix novices to keep the faith, he vanished like the ghost of hip-hop past and we went back to our baby and release scratch exercises.

Then I woke up this morning and decided to enroll in DJ 151, the next level.


DMC telling the story, T.A. Silo looks on


Kickin' it with DMC

When the sh*t hits the fan

Judging from the issues of our generation, if family ever taught us one thing, it's that people all are freaks. Your best friends, your boyfriends (or girlfriends), your coworkers, your codependent relationships...they will all fail you at some point. It's the nature of being human. And yet we all somehow came out of our broken families with an inversely logical quest for that one person who will defy everything else we've ever known to be true in ourselves and in everyone we've ever known longer than two weeks.

In the last few weeks, I've had close friends assume the worst of me, seen family of a good friend completely bail in tragedy, Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston file for divorce, and generally been reminded that people -- as much as I love 'em -- are so overrated. We self-overrate, we expect more from others than we know they can give, we idolize celebrities for crying out loud. Let's take a step back.

It's a good thing I've got the God who actually exceeds expectation and imagination to counter-balance my own humanness and those around me. What I can depend on in people comes off Craigslist and eBay, and the occasional listening ear and shoulder to cry on. And what more could I really ask for?

So you can look for DJ Mixtine maybe not dropping beats in a gig anytime soon, but certainly stalking you if you are a seller of Technic 1200s with some good needles.

Crush of the Month: The Angry Young Man

No, I don't mean Billy Joel. Though I do got love for him, he's too old and been through a few too many supermodel marriages to make the list at this point.

This angry young man has a tender, sensitive side (well, onscreen anyway) -- especially towards the women he loves -- that makes the issue that is normally a major red flag into just another aspect of his emotional honesty. Plus he's got those puppy-dog browns that are my weakness.

Adam Sandler may have started out as SNL's silly opera/red-hooded sweatshirt/crazy spoon man, but he has since held his own as an actor in his own right. Which is more than some of its alumnus can claim. Unlike most actors who generally play characters you feel like are sort of them in real life, Adam somehow evades my intuitive sense (I sound like one of those girls who only go for the unavailable mystery man). Is he actually equal parts funny and crazy romantic? Does he have rage issues? Does he use humor to escape life's real situations? Or is he rather serious and introverted? Inquiring minds (okay, mine) want to know.

For the uninitiated, he delivers the one-two punch in his last two movies: 50 First Dates and Spanglish. Who can resist a man who proves his commitment through his lady's mental illness, or a tender loving father with a value for infidelity, even to Tea Leoni's psycho bitch wife? Many men could have played those same roles and had me gagging. But there's something about Adam...

Now if he sang like Billy Joel, that would really do me in.


Not a fan of the curly do, but love a man in the kitchen. Or just food, really.


Looking dapper with doggie in a penguin suit.

In the Name of Love

By the way, due to my late delinquency, I never followed up with this:

U2 ROCCCKKKKKEEEDDDDD!!!!!

(See blurry Bono front and center) :)


See my posting on my AOL CityGuide blog -- says it all. No, I haven't been cheating on you all -- it's part of my job to post.

Foot in My Blog

When you set out to blog about the issue of relationships, it leads to talking about people -- namely people you know. This becomes dangerous terrain, and I have a new appreciation for all you anonymous bloggers out there.

I don't know how Carrie did it. Apparently she never actually talked about Samantha or Mr. Big in her column -- we as the audience to a fictitious world were privy to it. I get it.

So to a certain friend, I have a formal apology awaiting. Just call me to hash it out. You know who you are.