When I Really Face The Music

Dusty and I are maybe finally going to get off our butts and start burning our weekly shows to CD’s. (also known as “air checks” to all you radio people)

We’re doing this mainly because our tiny little radio station doesn’t have webstreaming anymore due to low traffic.  (Of course that was before Dusty and I were on the air and had our 10 fans!  Dammit!) And also because our families are dying to listen to them and  pass judgment hear exactly how much we actually do talk about them.

I’m thinking I will have to give mine to my family after I’ve visited them in July.  I’ll be all:

“Oh yeah, I know I’ve been here for three weeks, and I’m getting ready to board my plane but here’s all of our shows that we’ve done and when you’ve forgiven me in like say…100 years?  Give me a call!  Tell me what you think! Um, also don’t listen to it until I’m off the ground.”

It’s not that I spill all of the beans but let’s face it:  Dysfunctional childhoods make for hilarious radio fodder.  Especially when we talk about living in trailers, getting our welfare cheese and peanut butter, and our once chain smoking mothers.

In fact, when you talk with a southern accent that you just can’t shake, it’s even more hilarious.
Luckily, I’m blessed with a family who knows that I will say what I want, when I want, and that, above all else, I have to be honest.

And when Dusty and I finally go syndicated and get big time contracts in the radio biz?  Oh, they’ll be thanking us for their new double wide trailers, for their fancy cheeses, and for buying them all the cartons of cigarettes they can smoke!

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