Wednesday, July 08, 2009


This weekly guest DJ thing that's been going on at our Wednesday Good Times party at Eastern Bloc mostly came about because lots of my friends are really amazing DJs who rarely get to show case the breadth of their music collection. Case in point: Nita, last week's guest, whose fantasticness is matched by her love for britpop. Hence another installment of GOOD TIMES BRITPOP PAR-TAY!

Hurricane Jason might not remember the days when Oasis told Blur they hoped Blur would "get AIDS and die," but then again, Jason doesn't always remember much.

The southern belle known as Ricky (right), twisting the melons of Shaquanda Coca Mulatta's better half, known as Andre.

Set me free why don't 'cha babe?

I immediately thought of Sean (left) yesterday while watching the entirety of the Michael Jackson memorial, especially when Jermaine performed. I was like, WHERES PIA ZADORA?

Gettin' brain.

Now that Lady Gaga has made the video of the year with her Paparazzi masterpiece, every Tom, Dick and Harry thinks its cute to reenact it when entering a venue. Where's your Thierry Mugler bodysuit Gary?

Transvision vamps, twangily wigging out.

If you squint your eyes realllllll hard, Nic on the left could totally pass for our good friend Mike three pics below.

Back from the dead! I haven't seen Robbie (center) in ages but apparently he's back on the scene if and when the Smiths are involved.

Kiss them for me. Speaking of which, I'm officially attempting a Siouxsie Sioux night for doorman Scot's birthday at our July 22 wigs and wieners party.

Mike, Ryan and Samson (from left), whose name I've been apparently misspelling for two years now (it's not SamPson). SORRY SAMSON! The P was for perfection (and you know that we are freaks).

Kevin (right), one half of the Blue Man Two, with cheery Stone Roses enthusiast.

The Michael Delucia crew, all born after 1985, meaning Britpop = Spice Girls to them.

Maybe she was covered in jizz?

Gay pride was not the same this year without Bryan's presence (right), though it was ameliorated by a shirtless Demetre (left) atop a Kiehl's firetruck in the parade.

Caliente kisses.

The sweetness that is DJ Adam (right) and his evil, demonically-possessed twin Paul.

There's no question about this one: definitely a dried up jizz spot on Steven's head for surrrre.

Equal opportunists we are, as evidenced by the spazz (lower left) and the hot boy (upper right).

This is how I feel too now that the rain has somewhat subsided.

Good wholesome clean fun, like at this Friday's High Tea party in the Pines, which I'm DJing 7-10pm. Or Saturday at Hugs in Brooklyn. Or Sunday at the Garden of Ono, 630pm - 1230am.

I think for next week's photos, we should only have sexy poses with the Eastern Bloc ATM machine. I'm putting Kelvin on it as soon as he exits the bathroom.

Beers? Really? They must have missed the open vodka bar from 11 - 1130pm, NOW WEEKLY.

And you thought Andre's only talent was dressing in drag. Meanwhile, what's with the friend getting up close and personal?

Garrett, Scott and Joe, getting ready to WALK 4 ME.

Meanwhile, on the outside of the bar, David, Eddie and Danny (from left) made sexy poses and discussed the current stalemate at the New York State assembly. Or something.

One glistening beer! Shining through the rock 'n' roll of Nita's stellar set.

Faris (left) and his harem of handsome men whose names I may or may not have gotten throughout my nightly dose of vodka sodas.

Michael Magnan (right) and friends, whose inspiring Bart Simpson tank inspired me to buy the exact same one for our future DJ sets when we dress like twins (I'm Schwartzenagger, he's Devito).

Jackie (aka Michael, left), who does the best Ja'mie King impressions ever. Now build a bridge and get over it.

The specialest guest DJ, Ms. Nita Aviance (right), who turned it the fuck out with her britpop and brought along New York's number one name is exquisite head gear, Mr. One-Half Nelson (left).

Living the Parklife.

My favorite Michael Magnan expression ever, accompanied by a suggestive sleeve tattoo.

A random assortment of Ukranian brides.

Jonathan (left) and Robbie, giving you Bette Davis Eyes.

Nic (left) and Will, whose tshirts and facial hairs nicely compliment one another.

That 3am half kissyface, half asleep at the bar look.

The other half of the Blue Man Two known as Rob (right), rejoicing that school's out for summer and he now can "socialize" with his pupils.

If you block out that cross on his shirt, the one on the right is total foxiness.

Your DJs for the evening, thanking you for another Britpop installment. Come back next week for my inspired by Prince party. Vanity! Jill Jones! And the purple man himself. xo, Sparber.

1 comment:

Dirty Butt said...