Bitch, please. This isn't a late-night open bar. It's just an early start to Friday. It's my early morning "wellness tonic." (Also known as a colonic.)

Call it an educated guess, but we think this show is about painting. And the thing about painting is it's like someone's child -- no matter how ugly it is, you can never tell the creator, nor should you touch it, stand too close or lick it. 

"Will happiness find me?" -- a curious title for a show and a poignant question I've often pondered myself. The answer is "no, it won't." You have to create happiness for yourself, of course. So stop whining you lazy shitbag artists, and start making work about subjects that matter like hot naked babes. Or at least hot naked babes are what worked for me.

The vodka stash here may not last long, but the sweet, sweet Johnsonville goes all night.

 

For a change, try checking out the small art gallery space in the back of this joint. The drunk sluts downstairs can wait.

Gregor Tresher, nominee for Best Techno Artist at the Beatport Music Awards, spins his wacky German beats this evening. Also on the bill are old favorites Derek Plaslaiko, Alex English, Karraskilla, Giovanni and Pito. Close your eyes and good luck telling the difference between any of these acts. RSVP to going.com/gregortresher. 

Do the Kid 'n Play with your friends while they play old school hip-hop, or rave out to the house music that starts at midnight. Don't drink too much though if you don't want to get busted on the way back to Hoboken.

 

 

In this mildly classy lounge setting, come suckle the teat of your adolescence once again. It's Miller Time.

A party so special it has its own goddamn website. You can visit it and read about the full cast of characters, who will be saluting the Warhol Factory and celebrating the birth of our nation, all at once. There will also be glam makeovers, as if every morning weren't a glam makeover for half these people already.

 

Live performances by The Hunt and The Rats. RSVP at glamdammitnyc.com.

Gather your friends, don some private school uniforms and Louboutins and get ready to be on the wrong end of some perv with hair-gel's Gossip Girl fantasy.