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![]() Hey! Mr. DJ
Hey! Mr. DJ
The first time I saw Paul Oakenfold, I saw a little more than I had
expected: I saw his dick. Don't get the wrong idea, though. I'm no Oakie
groupie, I swear.
It was spring '98, and progressive house and trance had not fully
caught on in Chicago the way it had in other parts of the country. When
Oakie came to Chicago, Thousand Words magazine was planning to put Oakie
on the cover of its now-defunct dance-music magazine. Jennifer, a
photographer for the mag, decided that she would take Oakie's picture at
the Metro before he and Dave Ralph would DJ later that night.
In the Metro's basement we enjoyed drinking some free Heineken. Then
Jennifer took some pics of Oakie sitting on a sofa, and then she took
some pics of Oakie standing in a basement bathroom. Before Jennifer
snapped photos, she had me help her by holding up some device that
checks the lighting in the area. Then, as she was snapping photos, we
heard a trickling sound.
My jaw dropped, and Jennifer and I fell over in laughter when we
realized its source: Oakie had just unzipped his pants and peed into the
toilet, apparently not giving a care that we could see him in full view.
No pictures, though.
Also by Mary Susan Littlepage Spin Control
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Calling Aunt Jemima
Taken to the Cleaners
The Magic Klute
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The Fast Lane
Tip of the Week
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