• airwave diddling
• [right now]
• [top 20]
• [artists]
• [northica rocks]
• [requests]
• [email]
• [enews]
• [aks jax]
• [bum o’ the day]
• [fhat the wuck]
• [nuke my speakers]
• [vote the goat]
• [wadiddeesay?]
• [win-win]
• [interviews]

• crew
• [honey]
• [jax jackson]
• [quasimodo]
• [quick vic]
• [weekend jocks]

• bidness
• [advertising]
• [internships]

Contrary to popular rumor, I didn’t get hired because of my father or my boobs. Well. Maybe the boobs helped. I have a dream that one day I’ll meet a man who can tell me the color of my eyes before he estimates my bra size.

I love my job. I’m the only jock here who will say that, and it’s true. The bands give me lots of attention, Jax picks the songs I play, I don’t have to worry about my hair or makeup every day. Roll off the pillow and shuffle to work. Who has it better?

That’s not to say I don’t find life challenging on occasion. Men like to flash me, I don’t know why, I don’t encourage it. Guys tell me, “oh, you love it,” but no, I don’t. Men who like to flash aren’t much to look at, and men I’d enjoy a sneak peak keep their pants on.

What does that have to do with being a disc jockey? Nothing. But daddy said I could write whatever I wanted.

— Honey