In lieu of the disco dance party we had planned on throwing with Boston's DJ Joseph Colbourne (he cancelled) at last Wednesday's Good Times party at Eastern Bloc, we quickly switched gears and called on our deee-liteful favorite, Michael Magnan, to bring in the psychedelic house and celebrate Hash Wednesday on Ash Wednesday. I smell an annual party!
Joey (left, with Kyle) texted me to say, "you had me at Hash Wednesday," though these two mysteriously disappeared for "dinner," never to be heard from again.
It takes a trooper to enter a bar early on in the evening and stick with it as it goes from zero to full over the course of a party. And these two did just that.
Barback Rob asked guest DJ Michael and I to recreate our pose from the previous week, to which I told Michael that one day, this photo be as famous as that old school photo of Danny and Junior. Then we fought over which one of us would be Danny.
The Good Times posse! Lord knows where the former posse (aka Kevin Fernandez, Jacob Brooks-Harris et al) has disappeared to but its always comforting seeing friends and familiar faces, especially in the cold of winter.
Francisco (left, with Kyle and his new man) spooked me at Metropolitan last Friday for having not only DJed many parties he's been to in London but for knocking back a pint or five at his workplace, The Joiners.
Another familiar face from London, Alex, who now lives next door to me in the East Village but sometimes has to head to work for the BBC at 3 or 4am, right when I'm getting home.
Xander's bag is actually filled with lots and lots of bubble wrap so as to make it look full because its all about an accessory dawwwwling.
I don't remember what song I played at this point but I do remember him announcing to me that he always fantasized about dancing on a stripper pole to whatever song it was that I played. And no, it wasn't Lana Del Rey thankyouverymuch (though now that I think about it, she might have made the ultimate post-modern stripper album).
Cutie with the horn-rimmed glasses and plaid button down, sitting this track out.
Do the D.A.N.C.E.
Even though it was a hash Wednesday themed party, we relied on our customers and regulars to bring their own hash goodies. And by hash goodies, I mean hash browns and chorizo hash.
An a themes for this party was to have an actual Ash Wednesday party, where we played Ash all night, as well as Supergrass and Teenage Fanclub and that brand of britpop but somehow that felt a bit obscure (and I'm not the biggest Ash fan. But I do love me some Ned's Atomic Dustbin. Kill Your Television!)
Post-stripper pole glow. Everyone should try it at least once.
Did you know that almost all of the Good Times photos from the past five years are posted in chronological order from the beginning to the end of an evening? That said, Michael (in the background) was super eager to start DJing so he may have hit the decks slightly earlier than anticipated.
And once he did hit the decks, the children were L.I.V.I.N.G.
The children of the evening (from left): Xander, Armando, and Jason. And it's official: Armando is back in New York and here to stay and we're never letting him move anywhere ever again EVER!
The most random of seating places at Eastern Bloc right beside the entrance and exit, but I suppose that got the first glimpse and therefore first dibs on each and every gentleman that showed face last Wednesday
Orangsheenas! Clearly orange is the new black.
It still feels like Jason (left, with yours truly) moved to LA a few months ago but then again, I'm having trouble believing that we're celebrating our Good Times five year anniversary in three more weeks. And did I mention our super special DJ guest for the anniversary? Juanita fucking More from San Francisco!
Armando (left) and a friend swung by for a drink or two, shortly after their hash Wednesday celebrations in the privacy of Armando's home.
We call the party Good Times because spontaneous good times like this tend to erupt...
...and when they happen, the party is OVAH! (and by ovah, we mean its just getting started).
I'm beginning to think Santi's skeleton gloves are not really for warmth-keeping purposes at all.
It's like that SWV songs comes on every time I see a handsome bearded Latin fella and I get so weak at the knees I can hardly speak I lose all control and something takes over me.
YES HUNTY! She was feeeeeeeeeeeeeeling it at this point, but then again we all were because Magnan was serving up cunty runway beats like nobody's beeeeezniss.
Good Times: an indoctrination in intoxication and so much more for the younger generation.
Yes, that's a sheer black shirt that he's wearing and yes, I am living.
The boys of Griffin! I haven't been to Griffin in a hot minute but something tells me I'll be seeing B. Raff (aka Brian, second from right) in a pair of pumps real real soon.
Oh that Erickatoure. Always hamming it up for the camera. And now that she's on twitter, there's no stopping her from world domination.
DRAG RACE SUPERSTAR DIDA RITZ! I actually met Dida a while back through our mutual friend Anddy (center) but finally had the chance to tell her how sickening she was when she lip synced for her life to the tune of (and in front of) Natalie Cole. Do it Dida!
SHOWS! Jamil (right) actually turned to me and said (in a really deep and serious manner) how much Michael Magnan inspires him. And I feel exactly the same way.
And just when you think your party has peaked with voguing shows, in walks Damian, Mikey and Ramon (from left). Hash Wednesday has just begun.
On the ceiling, in the window, behind the curtains, in the bushes, love to do it.
Mr. Charley and Mr. Celso, talking clubland in the corner. Or celebrating Hash Wednesday in the corner. Or both.
Somehow, Wednesday turned into one big kiki and we all stayed out till real real late, which was not exactly the look since I attended a Sinead O'Connor concert on Thursday followed by Gant Johnson's going away party on Friday. Gant's departure from NYC still boggles the mind.
The sexy and sultry Solie, who brought out the gay version of Armand Van Helden even though Armand is kind of the gay version of Armand Van Helden.
Pulling an M.I.A. Or is he pulling an Adele?
Really getting into those Frankenstein knee-highs right about now.
Bartender/Eastern Bloc co-owner Darren was mysteriously absent this past Wednesday, which felt the way you feel when your dad goes away on a business trip and all the kiddies (i.e. Rob, left, and Marc) run wild and, ummm, grab each others crotches?
Black history month indeed and I just got taken to school.
If it weren't for the trademark hat, I'm not so sure I would have recognized Clayton (left) without his big and bushy beard that he says he shaved off earlier that evening. Oh the humanity!
Hello euro people and euro-type people who love a black leather jacket. You might also love next week's guest DJ, Pjotr from Stockholm. He's Swedish, bearish and love acid house. Need I say more?
That point in the night when someone literally falls of the bar stool and you have to stop and ask, did he really just fall off the bar stool? Then he's probably having a reallllllll good hash Wednesday.
It starts out all innocent...
...till someone whips it out in the middle of the bar. Happy Hash Wednesday! See you next week for Swedish Good Times with Pjotr from Sweden! xo, Sparber