There’s a chance when you hear “DJ,” you immediately conjure up a mental image of some underfed white dude with a confusing haircut and clothes that look personally styled by a wolverine. So maybe expand your horizons by feasting your eyes—though gorging may be more appropriate—on the blessed saint of music delivery that is Brooke Evers, an assumed angel on loan from Heaven’s finest nightclub.
She’s not in your local dive, as I’m sure you noticed. She’s not on loan to us writers and collared-working dudes. No, no, Evers is on Rob Gronkowski’s party cruise right now, delighting everyone with sights and sounds (her sounds and the sight of her).
Meanwhile, you’re at home making a quesadilla because you’ve given up, and I totally hear you. Today’s a bunk learning experience, but we need to persevere. We’re going to get through this, you and me. I know, it’s not easy finding an angel strutting around our world, especially one who loves to rage and play dope tunes, only to discover that she’s on a boat ride with a guy we could never defeat in a million years. Gronk’s built like the freakin’ last boss in the encore comeback of an old Nintendo game or the fabled warrior-enemy of a Greek myth. Not only that, he has his entire posse with him and your crew isn’t exactly the Expendables.
So just quietly eat your feast of Mission tortillas and Kraft singles and browse her Instagram. Tomorrow’s another day.
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