DJ Dirrty

I sort of don’t know what to say, and I always know what to say. It’s this damn chemical imbalance that is so stupid it defies words and requires math to comprehend. So what the hell is going on y’all? Let me calculate it for you: too much ‘Top Model’ reality TV + Twinkies X 10 + hot live-in girlfriend = Mc Serch and Bubba Sparks have a baby!  This is a real crisis of the ‘F’ word, and I’m not talkin’ p-h-a-t, I’m saying Anna rise from beyond and hook a brother up with some trim spa! I’m talking about season one of ‘Flavor of Love,’ New York weight gain.  I look like Ben Affleck on Boiler Room, or Captain Kirk without the girdle, so it’s that time y’all, to stop wondering if I should watch this show and start preserving my sexy. This is serious, pretty soon I’ll have no clothes that fit and start walking around with the homemade gear like Gwen Stefani – get me Star Jones’s personal trainer on the phone, yella!  I know what you’re all thinking: you’re a DJ so stop your bitching and take some damn drugs—and get a frickin’ eating disorder already.  But you know what the problem is? People are too lazy. I don’t care what Tony Little ‘you-can-do-it’ miracle solution I see on TV, I know the only thing that is going to help get my-cock-diesel-on, is to ignite the Rocky gene in my DNA and run up some damn stairs. Ok, so maybe I shouldn’t drink a case of Corona a day, or eat the whole pizza, but you can work that crap off.  Aaaargh, 1001, 1002, and 1003 – I WILL look sexy in my spandex, like it was 1983. To be continued…

There’s more then 800,000 blogs out there and you had to come to only non-Britney Spears one on the web! Not exactly the most exciting news for those of you searching for the latest crotch shots but if you’re attracted to trashy erogenous zones with unimpeded ventilation then you’ve come to the right place. This is the official Dirrty website where juicy gossip about wardrobe malfunctions and fabric-averse lady parts are an everyday part of life for Tempe’s most notorious DJ. The brilliance of this blog is that its part of a living graphic novel that portrays the legendary adventures of a good DJ gone bad.  You’ll live vicariously through the life experiences of Dirrty, documenting fascinating stories of glamorous DJ gigs, and reading about a cast of intoxicated heroes and beauties of chestical tragedies. The most controversial celebrities add to the saga with shameful visits in the tackiest way, Britney nasty-trucker-bathroom-barefoot kind of way.  Dirrty’s story takes place in Hempe, Arizona, the home of Hootchie University, one of ‘US Yesterday Magazines:’ Top 10 places to send your stupid-rich-hot daughter.  Once a respected IT Manager, glorified by the inept virgin office nerds (I see a prequel in works), Dirrty throws it all away to battle evil turntabilst in hopes of living his dream as the top DJ in Hempe.  Along the way Dirrty must resist the slutty underage foamed-up spray-tanned hotties of Hootchie University, guard his dollar bills from the erotic girls of Pussycat Palace that make Tara Reid look like Grace Kelly, and confront his arch nemesis’ Hamster Style and DJ Steel.  It’s an epic autobiography, which reads like a tour of Paris Hilton Blvd., and feels like you’ve stepped into an Eminem video. Dirrty Underwear is updated weekly and may include a lot of personal off-subject topics, read it and weep, peace.