"Stay Thirsty My Friends..."

Just thinking...
So you are in the club, getting your groove on and after a few minutes of burning calories twisting your body to the beat, you head over to the bar to grab a drink. That's where the drama starts...

First of all, why do people like to chill next to the bar? To make matters worse, the spectators don't have any drinks in their hands, they just 'chill' close to the bar like people gathering for a township meeting. The worst culprits are those who actually stay at the bar itself: bros, u dey ask the bartender for interview abi you dey do internship or bar exam? Kindly buy your drink and fade so that others can purchase their liquor. The bar-huggers are not only spoiling market for the bartender, they are also burning cable for the chicks who coulda bagged free drinks from potential suitors/oppressors

So after elbowing, headbutting and biting your way through the crowd of spectators, you finally make it to the bar (in your mind you can hear your brain cells applauding you like Spartacus in the arena). The bartender flashes a Julia Roberts smile at you and asks for your order, "vodka and cranberry" you shout, struggling to be heard above the music. Na then the story go just change from thriller to naija horror film, the bartender metamorphoses into a medical student before your eyes, pulls a plastic cup, fills with ice, measures/adds 2 teaspoons of vodka and 10 tablespoons of cranberry to the ice  and dumps a thin straw into the mix. Like play like play, she transforms back to a bartender with the Julia Roberts smile and tells you " $13". Abeg is the bar in recession or did I tell you that I am on an alcohol diet? Abi did you hear me order "vodka and cranberry on the rocks?"

No wonder some sharp men stick to buying bottles of beer in the club, more cost-efficient than liquor. But bros, why are you sipping beer? Is it too hot or is it burning your tongue? You can't be sipping beer from a bottle o, that kind of swag is too abstract. If you want to ration the beer, kindly ask for a teacup and a saucer, so that you can get your "sip-on". As for the big boiz popping bottles, no comment! I want to be like that when I grow up, no rush. As a proverb correctly phrased it, "No be who first call police dey win case". (literal translation: don't dull)

Dulleth not!

"Dulleth Not..."

Can you hear the beat? Can you feel it coursing through your veins? Can you feel the rhythmic sound melting into your bloodstream, delivering shots of adrenalin to your system like little electrical sparks. The frenzy, the excitement, the energy, the thrill as the music liquefies slowly and merges into your body, becoming one with your soul. The next step in the sequence can be unpredictable, for some it begins with the nerves in their feet twitching, for others their eyes widen with excitement and bodies start to sway to the rhythm, head nodding back and forth to the beat...

The music genre doesn't matter, it could be electrofunk, dance-hall, soukous/makossa, hip-hop, bossa nova/samba, afrobeat, fuji, 9ja, house, even gospel (word!)...once the beat hits you, the effect is intoxicating, like a rush of blood to the head...The venue doesn't matter either, it could be a club, a party, a wedding, your crib, my crib, even in dreams...

My job is to unleash the right beat, unlock your inhibitions...and to do it over and over again, till your mind, body and soul climax with the rhythm of the beat...

I am...DJ Yoossouph

"Dulleth not"...