I could tell you about my radio career, but wouldn’t you rather know that I can wiggle my ears independently? Or that my favorite kind of sandwich is whatever sandwich someone else is paying for? Or that my lime-green-lemon car’s radio only picks up Easy 105.3, which I suspect is less about loyalty and more about the fact that the tuner knob fell off in 2019?

Since we still have words to go, here are some fun facts:

• I once accidentally used a stapler as a microphone during a remote broadcast.
• I’ve been told my voice sounds like “someone explaining tax codes, but in a fun way.”
• If you leave me unattended near a vending machine, I will press every button to see what happens.
• I have an ongoing feud with a squirrel in my backyard named Chris regarding who has the more adorable tail (don’t ask).

Sometimes I wonder what people expect from a radio DJ’s bio. Maybe a list of awards (don’t have those handy). Maybe a heartwarming origin story (mine involves accidentally walking into a radio station because I thought it was a pizza place). Or maybe they just want to know if I’m a real person (still up for debate).

The truth is, evenings on Easy 105.3 are a mix of great music, questionable decisions, and me talking to you as if we’re already friends… or at least friendly neighbors who borrow each other’s lawn tools without asking. And if you’ve read this far, you’re now part of the club. There’s no membership card, but if there were, it would be lime green and smell faintly of lemon.

Anyway, I think we’re at the quota now. Or close enough. If my manager complains, I’ll just tell him I ran out of words. Your evening just got a little more interesting… or at least, a little more Greg.

Greg Beharrell is here on Easy 105.3… because someone lost a bet. I play songs, I talk, and sometimes I even do both at the same time. I drive a lime-green car that is, ironically, a lemon. It’s the only vehicle where the check engine light comes on just to say hello, and once, just for fun, it also displayed the word “NO” on the dashboard for an entire week.

When I’m not on the air, you can find me doing important things—like alphabetizing my snack drawer, trying to train my houseplants to respond to voice commands, or staring into the middle distance wondering if clouds know they look like things. I also once spent three hours trying to figure out if “llama” is the only animal name with a double “L” at the beginning. I’m still not sure.

Now, here’s the thing: my manager told me this bio had to be at least 500 more words. I said, “That’s a lot of words about one guy.” He said, “Yes, but you’re Greg Beharrell.” And I thought… yeah, fair point. So here we are. I love hitting quotas. In fact, I once hit a quota so hard it apologized. This sentence doesn’t need to be here, but now it is, and we’re one step closer to quota victory.

I could tell you about my radio career, but wouldn’t you rather know that I can wiggle my ears independently? Or that my favorite kind of sandwich is whatever sandwich someone else is paying for? Or that my lime-green-lemon car’s radio only picks up Easy 105.3, which I suspect is less about loyalty and more about the fact that the tuner knob fell off in 2019?

Since we still have words to go, here are some fun facts:

• I once accidentally used a stapler as a microphone during a remote broadcast.
• I’ve been told my voice sounds like “someone explaining tax codes, but in a fun way.”
• If you leave me unattended near a vending machine, I will press every button to see what happens.
• I have an ongoing feud with a squirrel in my backyard named Chris regarding who has the more adorable tail (don’t ask).

Sometimes I wonder what people expect from a radio DJ’s bio. Maybe a list of awards (don’t have those handy). Maybe a heartwarming origin story (mine involves accidentally walking into a radio station because I thought it was a pizza place). Or maybe they just want to know if I’m a real person (still up for debate).

The truth is, evenings on Easy 105.3 are a mix of great music, questionable decisions, and me talking to you as if we’re already friends… or at least friendly neighbors who borrow each other’s lawn tools without asking. And if you’ve read this far, you’re now part of the club. There’s no membership card, but if there were, it would be lime green and smell faintly of lemon.

Anyway, I think we’re at the quota now. Or close enough. If my manager complains, I’ll just tell him I ran out of words. Your evening just got a little more interesting… or at least, a little more Greg.