Wednesday, June 29, 2011

TONIGHT!

GOOD TIMES: POPPERS & DADDIES

Throughout the ages, cultures around the world have considered the summer solstice a sign of fertility and thus celebrated accordingly. We at Good Times, our weekly Wednesday throw at Eastern Bloc, are no different, which is why we celebrated the longest day of the year and our good friends' Mikey & Erik's birthdays with the most important fertility tools of all: DADDIES & POPPERS!


Natasha (right) started the party off early, as she was on the daddy hunt and she knew that the early bird catches the blond-haired, blue-eyed worm named Hunter (left, throwing major side eye to the air conditioner).


The three mustache-keteers! (That joke would have worked if Steven, right, with Mike and Brett, had actually grown in his mustache. THANKS ALOT STEVEN!)


Not sure if these three coordinated their grey top, blue bottom looks but I'm not mad at it either, especially because it includes a well-planned nip slip.


OUTDATED SHIRT ALERT! But in the best way possible, because over the weekend, New York State legalized gay! (as in, gay marriage.) Now they just need to legalize dancing (yes, its still illegal to dance in most New York City bars and clubs that don't have a cabaret license).


Bow down before the one you serve, you're going to get what you deserve. Boy.


LET THE POPPERS PARTY...BEGIN!


DADDY DETAIL.


Happy birthday Erik! Many months ago, Erik asked me to host a sweatpants party for his birthday, which I made mention of in my weekly email invite, although nobody really ended wearing sweatpants except for me.


Daddies in training.


Patches, pawing something that looks vaguely Latino, much to our surprise.


News of the poppers and daddies party put a big grin on the faces of everyone who read about it from here to South Africa. It put an even bigger grin on those who attended as you can see by these two daddy chasers.


Its all about a light pant and a dark tan by the time July rolls around.


"Wait. Is that? No, it couldn't be" is what queens began to whisper when guest DJ Rich King (right, with DJ Will) walked in to guest DJ as primo daddy-o SANS BEARD. Leave it to Rich to make 'em gag over and over.


Birthday boy Mikey, dancing himself clean LCD Soundsystem style.


This week on the wonderful world of Andy's international imports, we meet his Swedest import from Stockholm (right, with Andy).


Hello, I love you won't you tell me your name. (Remember when Rich King used to mix the Doors into his disco/house sets?!)


Mark, Chris and a sizzling senorita in short shorts who was NOT ready for her indoctrination into the world of poppers. (Or daddies, for that matter.)


The Davids (left), with a friend whose shoes conveniently and somewhat bizarrely match David pants perfectly.


B-cups.


We didn't need another reason to celebrate but when Quinn (right, with Matt) told us he had quit practicing law earlier that day to start a job prepping future lawyers on learning the ropes, we immediately saw yet another excuse to down a Jaeger shot with friends.


Eddie (left) and George (right), both of whom I spent a nice Sunday afternoon with on Pride devouring chicken wings and watching rainbow floats parade down Fifth Avenue, all in the comfort of an air-conditioned and well-located apartment.


It is all about the midriff shirts this season for girls AND boys. So get on it and show some tummy next week, when we welcome London's Severino (of Horse Meat Disco fame) to a party we're calling HORSE MEAT GOOD TIMES.


As a special birthday treat to Mikey, his former roommate and Stephanie Stone not only showed up looking as stunning as ever...


...but she performed a number dedicated to our number one poppers princess, Mikey.


Loudmouth jewboys, unite!


The Kelly Osbourne moment of the evening.


Yes, yes and more yes! By the way, did anyone else hear that house track Honey Dijon was pumping at Haus the other week with the vocals of our beloved Xander (left)? It was ev'ry-ting!


Since there weren't enough daddies to go around (although that guy in the background still looks available), folks had to start settling on dudes under 40 if they wanted to get any nookie that evening.


The reunion! Darren must have provided some good luck or good head to Rich (left) because Rich's set was seriously out of this world. Like bananas.


Steven L. (left) is bringing sexy back in 101 ways and is going to be our Poppers & Daddies posterman when we start taking this party global in 3, 2, 1....


Sam (right) and Darren D. (left), talkin' shop and liquor delivery times for their respective bars.


DANCE PARTY USA! Check my sweat shorts worn just for Erik G.'s birthday and the handsomeness that is Matt in the background.


Actually, who wasn't giving good head to Rich in the DJ booth?! (Natasha: guilty.)


Now this is what we like to see. Dear Everyone, Please wear something like this to next week's Horse Meat Good Times. Thank you. xo, Sparber


Kelly, can you handle this? Michelle, can you handle this? Beyonce, can you handle this? (I don't think you can handle this.)


Fact: more than 50 percent of the clothing in William's wardrobe are tattered like his yellow shirt here. On purpose.


Let's get it on.


JR, opening up and saying ahhhhhhhhh I wannna go (downtown where my posse's at).


Alone (left) showed face for the second week in a row while his friend showed constipated face for one week and one week only.


Jungle Juice Platinum.


I forgot to make mention of Darren's daddycentric tshirt that says Gay Fathers. Actually, maybe that's not daddycentric. Nevermind.


Literal daddies! Like, don't you have to go home and take of the kids at some point you two?


Smile, you're on candid camera!


The sweet smell of ecstasy.


Timmy, pretending he's shy.


Breathe deep, its almost last call.


If you haven't already checked out my Twerking Radio podcast, DO IT! Sean Lisle (right, last seen DJing a gay float for pride) is set to be an upcoming guest. Get it for free on iTunes or find the link to it on the right hand of my blog, twerking.com.


See you next week at Horse Meat Good Times! xo, Sparber