Play that funky music, white boy

We have a DJ for the wedding. Whoooooo!

Adam was recommended to us by the owner of our reception site and he's exactly what we were hoping we'd find -- he's young, fun, intelligent, just starting off but with a little experience under his belt and, best of all, he's super cheap.

Like half of what I budgeted for the "deej" cheap. Double whooooo!

He and Scott know each other from their days of baseball, too, so you can imagine Scott's delight 30 minutes into a conversation about which pitcher they "went deep" on and what softball leagues they can sneak onto so that they are at least still playing -- even if it's on that dairy farm field with the electric fence.

My only disappointment came when my excitement got the best of me and with all the white girl capability I had I shouted, "Make sure to play some Jersey music! Yeah!"...
...and Adam looked at me like I had three eyes.

Pause.

"Um, like the Boss, er Bruce and stuff."

I saw Adam feverishly writing something down, probably to the tune of "Bruce and Jersey shit, whatever that is. The bride is a moron."

I trust he'll figure the Jersey thing out -- and quickly too, before I get Guido and the rest of the mob, if you know what I'm tawkin' about.