This week was one of the best Good Times at Eastern Bloc ever. I don't know why. I mean, every Wednesday is pretty rad, but there's something in the holiday air (like the smell of egg nog. Just kidding.) that made everybody cut loose. Foot loose. Kick off the Wednesday shoes.
Jimmy's back! Or he was for this week anyway (he'll be home next week for Christmas). If you haven't had a chance to catch up on his travels to Israel, Kenya, London and the Philippines, check out his blog here.
Dude wondering where his manhunt meet-up is at.
Such handsome profiles, don't you think?
This one is all sorts of cute except for the "Ready for Play" shirt. I mean, if you have to advertise for it, you probably aren't going to get it.
As a result of my myspace outreach, I have befriended handsome strangers that I probably wouldn't have encountered otherwise like this one on the right.
Duane (right) is in the running for 2008's hunk of the year. Wait and see.
A dude (for reals)! That's all I have to say about this photo.
Ah, le panaromic. I'm finally figuring out how to work my camera. And I've only had it for two months!
Matt is a rabbit in your headlights. No, he's an old friend who worked as Meryl Streep's husband's art assistant/slave before pursuing a masters in Cali. He LIVED Devil Wears Prada.
This one was all pissed that I snapped this candid shot of him as he was walking through the bar but I think he ended up looking good regardless.
Speaking of looking good, Eric (left) kept complaining about how unphotogenic he is. I beg to differ.
Lori (right) and friend were both visiting from San Francisco. Or maybe just she was, but I kind of feel like half the party is ex-San Fran people and their west coast couch surfing friends.
Stephen the dietitian (right, another one from Frisco) told me that greasy food was the worst possible thing I could eat before bed. Then I ran to Nino's and got a slice of pizza.
Saggy jeans or lack of a derriere?
If a gay Swedish band popped into Good Times for a drink, this is what I picture that they would look like.
Adam (left), with a bearded boy toy.
This one must have been so excited to jump up on the pole that he didn't even bother to completely removed his winter coat. That's the power of Britney's Blackout, I bet.
Michael (right) wasted no time getting friendly with Pablo's (left) friend.
Handsome boys from Alabama (i.e. Duane) are my weakness. That, and nutella.
A flamer! Get it? His tattoos? Buh dum bum.
Robbie (right) used to be one of two regulars at my Wednesday night Route 85A party, which began four years ago this month. It ended shortly thereafter.
David Davis (right), giving Jason (middle) the ultimate death stare.
Erik came through to introduce himself, yet somehow ended up knowing every single patron at the party. Gay Long Island DJs unite!
Jeff (left), Jason and I attended the Metropolitan Bar holiday party Monday night, where I did a kick-ass karaoke rendition of Tina Turner's Private Dancer.
Because the bar got so jam packed, I saved the Tina Turner jams (theme of the party) till 230am, when devoted fans such as Kevin (right) could appreciate Nutbush City Limits in a quieter setting.
I didn't crop Jonathan's head out of this picture. He was just photographed that way.
The talented Mr. Beau, center, ponders where David's lips have been.
Baby C (center) is my favorite person on earth. For reals. He can set up camp in my DJ booth and I would be overjoyed. In fact, that's kind of what he did with his friend Kele, who was visiting from London.
Baby C hasn't been going out as much on weeknights, so when he does, he turns it up to 11.
Poor James had to suffer a week-long stay in the hospital due to a multi-resistant staph infection (MRSA). And he has to wear this IV for like, six weeks. WAH WAHHHHH.
Michael and his man were still at it when Scott (left, in the brown hat) arrived hot off the heels of Beyonces' Christmas party for her staffers two blocks away! We were like, BRING HER! but apparently she had to go uptown to meet Ms. Kelly.
Actually, Baby C is more like my yes girl who is more than happy to do backup singing and dancing during my set. He is the best.
Another "unphotogenic" one, Massimo (right) had to be wrestled just to be photographed.
Magamet (left) and Pablo, bring back the grunge and Mickey Mouse realness respectively.
For a second, it almost looks as if this picture were taken at a straight bar. Almost.
Linger on, pale blue eyes.
How come every time Kele (right) poses for the cam, he looks total poltergeist?
In case you didn't read earlier, my friend just got out of the hospital after a bout with MRSA. Let's try to be a little more hygienic, shall we?
I'm sure these two are planning a date. In the bathroom.
Sam (right) was totally touched by the heart-warming story of the African toddlers that handcrafted Jimmy's necklace and sold it to him for 50 cents.
Magamet is looking quite hunky these days as well. I have to only say nice things about him on my blog after outing him about his drunken love confessional with bartender Darren a few months ago.
Tim (right, with James) was surprisingly well behaved for a late Wednesday night at Good Times.
George can do no wrong in my book. He is perfection.
Pablo (left) was like, "I JUST MADE OUT WITH THIS GUY! WATCH!" but the dude was so not in the moment anymore.
DJ Will, aka hunk of the year 1997 - 2007, invited me to DJ his Spank party with him two Fridays from now, January 4th. Peep the flier here.
Uh oh. Looks like someone is going through a text message breakup.
Speaking of break ups, I used to date this one but now he just sort of randomly pops up everywhere I am, including my own DJ parties.
Doorguy Scot says "BAR'S CLOSING! DON'T MAKE ME SLAP YOU WITH MY PROSTHETIC COCK!" See you next week!