Party Tracker: Blonde on Blonde

07/02/2008 12:00 AM |

Lonely and looking for something to do, tired of feeling like you are stuck inside of Mobile with the Memphis blues again? Don your Lonsdale and your leopard-skin pill-box hat and dance to a Captain Arab-arabesque, one which turns Jayne and Mansfield into visions of Johanna. International flaxen-haired DJing duo Lady Bree and Miss Harry Flowers–visions of beauty in a DJ booth, Sharon st"One of Us Must Know (Sooner or Later)"-styled femme fatales behind the ones and twos–spin rock ‘n’ roll, garage, punk, girl groups, glam, indie and shoegaze. Keeping rap to another red riding ‘hood, these residents-as-Rapunzels keep the sleeping residents of their parties’ hoods asking themselves "ain’t it just like the night to play tricks when you’re trying’ to be so quiet?" Their bombshells of hits create a Rainy Day Women #12 & #35-24-36 measurements of 33 1/3 rotations per minute which has me all right with you pledging my time to them.

Putting the Absolut in absolutely sweet Marie, Erik and nikkisneakers pour the poisons that keep you tumbling about just like a mattress balances on a bottle of wine.

Whether this is your first or fourth time around the block, find a sad eyed lady of the lowlands and tell her I want you, when the blonde bombshell blows up in your face run to your buddies complaining of her being just like a woman–a Jean Harlow-looking hall of mirrors.

Have a drink for courage, then find yourself nearly-invincible–temporary like Achilles–on the dance floor, surrounded by Marilyn Monroe-fashioned "Why, Chanel No. 5, of course" strange bedfellows, obviously 5 believers all. Come some time between 3:30 and 4am, mostly likely you’ll go your way (and I’ll go mine).

And now, the feature using all of the words which can be made from Blonde:

On Sunday and Wednesday nights instead of nodding off in your bed, be all you can be by making your body bend in dance and drink at Blonde on Blonde–a party which refuses to blend in, where your DJs Lady Bree and Miss Harry Flowers blend rock ‘n’ roll, garage, punk, girl groups, glam, indie and shoegaze. If you have made bold moves and managed to neither have bled out from a dance-related broken bone nor have run into some girl who you once boned, nights out such as these bode well for your week.

Put down the bole, don some duds and take out your deb (as in, debutante) for a night out on the town and away from your apartment above a crack den, to spots where music plays at various levels of bel. Dole out for your blonde and do whatever your doe-eyed beauty wants done in the ebon corners that resemble the dungeons of eld.

En-dash out for a night that will not be done before amateur enol turns into a marriage annuled. Your DJs have spent an eon or so in front of their LED-lit mixing boards spinning Led Zeppelin, and lo and behold they lend their talents to your left and right ear lobe, lob your keys to your designated driver blond Ben (better yet, take either the El–the J,M,Z–or L trains), lobed to hear when you have had too much. Knowing that these venues are a lode of debauchery, do not be a lone dancer. Neb and hands-outstretched, do not say no to any noble offers, just nod yes to a node (as in, intersecting/connecting!), and find yourself in a cheer usually found around Noel. Beware the od and bond of women, and be careful not to O.D. We do not want to have to sing an ode to your memory until you are very old. I have gone on too long, this has to end.

Blonde on Blonde
Sundays at Lit, Wednesday at Hugs
10:30pm, FREE
93 Second Ave, between E 5th and E 6th Sts
108 N 6th St, between Berry St and Wythe Ave