When he woke up that morning,it was late...and

When he woke up that morning,it was late...and he felt it was indeed much too late to try to fix anything...but when he looked over her side of the bed there was a lily and a note:

B#, played on loop. But why would Lily want him to be-sharp? Just then, he noticed that the bed was encased in a large bubble. He grabbed the turntable's needle arm and

bumped it to another groove. Lily yawned - the pace was too slow. He cranked up to 45 rpm &the bed rotated faster. No response. But when he started scratching & beat mixing

with an actual electric beater. He was a chef DJ. He melded culinary utensils and food with Club DJ-ing.

Just last week I landed a gig at The Scene and slathered what should really be an illegally thick coating of DiJon all over the crowd. I had my Chef DJ hat on backwards and my beat

s were mad solid. the crowd went sandwich and music crazy as tunes and bread mixed together in joyous symphony. But suddenly, my mayo

dripped out of the back of my sandwich. It was a devastating turn of events and I thought maybe this day was ruined. The music

kept getting louder and louder and louder until BAM. The speakers exploded.

As did my eardrums. And my spleen. Luckily, my liver had enough cirrhosis that it survived. The rest of the audience was not as lucky. No more Beiber-fever in Portland!