Smut! Turntable!
This weekend I have the pleasure of being Jefferson's guest DJ over at the Smut Turntable. A couple of weeks ago, we were commiserating on how much work we both had piled up and how our regular blog posts were becoming less frequent, when he remarked that his Smut Turntable had gained a considerable readership.
"You know," I said, "it might be fun to have guest bloggers there every now and then, to like, keep things fresh."
"That's a great idea," he said, "you want to be the first?"
Well, alright.
I've put together a lineup of songs which I think are hot, or which shaped my adolescence in one form or another. Some are quirky, others so schlocky they'll make you cringe, and not just because of the shoulder pads and huge hair. It was, after all, the Eighties.
So open up the doors on your Mom's Reliant K and turn up the Hit Radio station of your choice while you and your friends sit on the hood and watch the skate punks while drinking your Bartles & Jaymes.
Unless you're like I was and Southern Comfort & Mountain Dew is more your speed.
You get drunker faster if you drink it through a straw.
Dig the Tretorns, man. Me at 13.
"You know," I said, "it might be fun to have guest bloggers there every now and then, to like, keep things fresh."
"That's a great idea," he said, "you want to be the first?"
Well, alright.
I've put together a lineup of songs which I think are hot, or which shaped my adolescence in one form or another. Some are quirky, others so schlocky they'll make you cringe, and not just because of the shoulder pads and huge hair. It was, after all, the Eighties.
So open up the doors on your Mom's Reliant K and turn up the Hit Radio station of your choice while you and your friends sit on the hood and watch the skate punks while drinking your Bartles & Jaymes.
Unless you're like I was and Southern Comfort & Mountain Dew is more your speed.
You get drunker faster if you drink it through a straw.
Dig the Tretorns, man. Me at 13.
