Our Debbie Harry-inspired evening brought out the best of the best, which means Steve (left) and Rich were most certainly in attendance wearing black on black and plaid on plaid, respectively.
"Oh (Russian) Denis doo-be-do, I'm in love with you, Denis doo-be-do..."
Aryan DJs, unite! Corey Tut (right) and Jon Jon Battles are both 6'4" and 200% East Village man meat who both shared stories of laying around in a bed with Debbie Harry at 5am.
Charlie (right) has been feeding 90's dance faves in a covert attempt to get a K. initial party going, featuring Ya Kid K, Leila K and Brenda K. Starr.
Kung fu girls (from left): Douggie, Chrissy, Roberto, Daniel and friend.
A trio of after work patrons, one of whom happened to be feeling a little too Atomic when this picture was taken. Or maybe he just returned from a sunny vacay.
OH YES HE DID! Eric N. and his brand new bowtie TATTOO! Black formal till the day you die, Eric, at which time you won't be buried in a jewish cemetary but who really cares. Cufflink tattoos next!
The handsomeness that is Wesley O., hoisted by Eric, Paul and Shane as they get ready to toss her up and rip her to shreds.
Too distracted by the background hunk to even caption this photo right now. Good Times hearts fashion week models.
Chris (left), with his new Eastern Boarder squeeze (center) and Gerardo, who I'm counting on for music selections at the next Good Times, which will be Spanish-ish themed. (aka Selena night. Just kidding.)
A toast to the impending spring and summer seasons even though Punxsutawney Phil totally saw his shadow a few weeks ago, meaning we'll have to push back our Stevie B Spring Love party
Daniel (left) and Luis, waiting on the line for special guest DJ Michael T. to arrive, who has rarely been seen in these parts before midnight.
Mistress Kyra and a gaggle of gays, all of whom seem to be entranced by something going on right beside our photographer. I'm guessing it invovles a birthday and a stripper pole.
A pastel sandwich.
HOLA to the papi on the left. Call me, on the line.
My most favorite person on earth, DJ Michael Magnan (wearing an over the shoulder holster) and his compadre Telfar (not pictured) filled in for us last week at a very special Slurp vs. Good Times. I am sad to have missed it and will post pics from it later on.
Yes, lots of posed pictures, I know. Captioning is a little off today because I'm still on an Ambien hangover from the airplane, meaning I'm sleeptyping this entire entry. Sorry!
Good Times babes Gabriel (left) and Nick, playing peekaboo with their sexy chest hairs.
Dying to know what his hat says on the left, though I'm dying a little bit more to have whatever she's having on the right.
The Kevin. The Tony. The AJ, all of whom encapsulate the song Die Young, Stay Pretty.
Gagging.
Encapsulating yet another Blondie song, known as I'm On E.
It wasn't all Blondie, all the time, as I'm sure I played a bit of Sinead O'Connor at some point, to which Gary (seated, with glassed) died the most pleasurable death possible on Anddy's belly.
Gays love a good Blondie party.
Demetre (bottom right, or is it bottom, right?), getting his War Child on before a late-night shift of HIV testing at my new favorite hangout, Paddles. Tshirt coming soon (I hope).
Me in Blondie attire, with my soon-to-be party co-host Stephen Savage (left), who I'll be teaming with for an evening of swank and sultriness at the downstairs lounge of Kingswood this coming Sunday.
Rapture in the foreground, Mexicans in the background.
You know your party is standing room only when half of the patrons have to stand on the benches and there ain't even a floorshow.
At some point in the night, the sexiness that is Juan Pablo popped up on the pole to "audition" for an Eastern Bloc go-go job. Loving the fan club down below too.
Justin (right) and friend are the Off-White Stripes.
Will someone please translate Jeferson's shirt for him the next time they see him? Thank you.
X-Offenders Steven and friend, who had packed guns for the special occasion.
Don't forget to make your very own statement next time fashion week rolls around, which now seems to happen every other week.
AND SHE ARRIVES! Michael T. knows how to make an entrance and knows his Blondie. His set was un-fucking-believable.
Stephen (right) and his architect friends.
I can't imagine what song they're dancing to right here since I didn't play Shorty Swing My Way till much much later in the evening.
Ray, Danny and Mikey (from left), who all filled my heart of glass with joy thanks to their attendance.
Mark Sterling to Jeferson: ONE WAY, OR ANOTHER, I'M GONNA FIND YA, IM GONNA GETCHA GETCHA GETCHA GETCHA.
...one day, maybe next week, I'm gonna meetcah, I'm gonna meetcha, I'll MEET-CHA!
These two look like they would have had fun at the Love Hangover disco party Gant and I did the Sunday after this. Hostess Linda Simpson helped us turn it out and we're now considering more Sunday disco events. Thoughts?
Boo! Take your clothes back off Juan Pablo like a good little Venezuelan Brazilan!
Who ever called the Good Times crew the Bearded Mafia (MAVERICK) was dead wrong. We don't discriminate!
Ecstatic that Michael T. is playing the Cult!
Michael and Michael, both in boots, after an incredible evening of good ol' rock 'n' roll.
"Hey dude. Let's come back when Josh does his Spanish-ish party. And to his Good Times Purim party on March 11. I hear baby jew bears Eric Leven and Benji Solomon are hosting." "Yeah, dude."
Thank you Michael T. and everyone who came out for Blondie night! See you soon.
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