Sometimes we were really surprised. There were major artists that would come by because they wanted to.

If you were to share your workout playlist with the world, I guarantee there's stuff on there that wouldn't pass the cool test, and M2 helped in that way.

We were the ultimate consumers of the thing, and we thought, "Every college kid is going to go berserk. High school kids - it will introduce them to music they didn't know about. This is going to be a phenomenon." Plus, it seemed like it was insider-y, yet it was available to everyone. I thought, "Cable companies are going to be snatching this up." You think about the dreck that is on so many cable companies, of course they're going to love this. And we were just crushed that nobody cared.

I started getting fan notes from people saying, "Oh, keep up the mess-ups," and I'm thinking, "I'm not doing it deliberately. This is just who I am." But people thought it was funny. I guess if you're watching and you see that I could do it, maybe it gives hope that anybody can do it.

I can barely listen to my tapes when I'm transcribing, because I can't stand how I sound.

I was 35. I was the oldest female VJ at Viacom ever. I left them, which at least preserved my dignity, because I'm sure they would eventually have kicked me to the curb. I mean, who there is over 35 now? I can't even imagine. On air? I was glad I lasted that long.

The worst was I had little control in terms of smoothing out my questions and making myself look good the way I could in print. All the ums and uhs and rambling and apologies and hyenalike laughter at something that really isn't funny. You know when an artist will crack a joke, and you're like, "That's so hilarious," like, the fawning laughter that you can at least cut when it's print? It's just all out there, and it's really humiliating.