Bare Bones by Bobby Bones Page A

present. She had the local station’s DJ say, “Happy Birthday to Bobby Estell,” which we listened to on my little radio. And from that moment on I knew that I was going to be that DJ on the radio. When my kindergarten teacher had us fill out a paper that asked, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” I answered, “I want to be on the radio and TV, and I want to be a stand-up comedian.” If I were handed the same piece of paper right now, I’d answer the same exact way. Almost thirty years later. How crazy is that?
    The moment the DJ wished me a happy birthday I also became obsessed with our local Top 40 radio station, 105.9 KLAZ. When I got a little older, I called in to the station almost every night. So when I was twelve years old and I won a contest where you got to guest DJ for the night, it was as if I had won Powerball.
    At this point I had been calling the station every night for years, begging to be put on the air. I even had created a DJ name for myself, Bobby the Barbarian, in a really dumb homage to one of my favorite professional wrestlers who went by the moniker “The Barbarian.” Sting was my all-time favorite, but Bobby the Stinger didn’t have the right ring. It would be cool if Sting read this book. Actually, when I think about it, here in descending order are the top five people that I remember from my childhood who I’d love to read this book:
    5.   Sting: The blond wrestling Sting. Not the Kristen Stewart Goth Sting.
    4.   Alyssa Milano: My childhood crush. I loved Who’s the Boss? Mostly because of her.
    3.   Mark Grace: The former Cubs first baseman was my favorite baseball player growing up.
    2.   Kate Beckinsale: My lifelong crush. I’d drink all of her bathtub water. But not in a creepy way (in case you are reading this, Kate).
    1.   The entire cast of Home Improvement .
    Back to my childhood obsession with the local radio station. Occasionally, Flyin’ Brian, the guy who worked nights, would let me on the air to introduce a song.
    â€œHey, everybody,” I would say on air. “It’s Bobby the Barbarian. And at number three in the countdown it’s Divinyls with ‘I Touch Myself’—on KLAZ.” I had no idea what that song title meant, although I became all too familiar with its meaning over the next . . . twenty years.
    As soon as the station publicized the contest in which you had to write a poem for a shot at guest DJ’ing for a night, I poured my heart into a series of verses.
    â€œHey, everybody, there, up at KLAZ,” my poem began, “Bobby the Barbarian, yo, that’s me.”
    Kendrick Lamar, watch out. (For the record, I was just going to write “Kendrick, watch out,” but even though I think I have the street cred to call him Kendrick—even if no one else does—I felt it more appropriate to use his full name, at least in a book. I also thought about going with 2Pac in that reference, but then realized that the much younger audience that is surely reading this book would have no idea about the cultural significance of 2Pac.)
    Even though I didn’t have the lyrical stylings of a 2Pac or Biggie Smalls (another ancient rap reference, for those counting at home), for some reason, the powers that be at KLAZ chose me as the winner. Maybe they felt sorry for Bobby the Barbarian or maybe this was their way to get me to stop calling every night. Either way, on Christmas Eve, I got the best present I could imagine: a shot as guest DJ.
    The moment I walked into the studio it was love at first sight. A love that quick has only happened three times in my life: with a radio studio, my dog, and Kate Beckinsale (more on her later). The studio seemed massive and awesome. (It was actually tiny and quite crappy.) Surrounded by all these buttons, shiny lights, and microphones, I pictured millions of people listening as I began, “Hey y’all, it’s Bobby