Lexie & Kelly unleash the FREE FAIRIES and UNICORN SPARKLE! Uncle Bader doesn’t lie…

This Shit Is Binoculars! (ode to Pink Skull)

We want to start out by saying that we never anticipated a line stretching down the block outside of Sal’s EVER. Bonde Do Role and Plastic Little, yo to getting’ it done, no to waiting for everyone to finish their coke in the bathroom before yas finally went onstage. Technical difficulties, eh. The most exciting thing we saw that night was Jon’s Waffle House cap. Stylin’.

And while we’re tawkin’ trucker hats, Lo-Fi-Fnk at Making Time held us rapt. The pretty Swedes were poppin’ fresh with the tags still on their caps. We thought dudes only did that on the El, and we figured it was because they were straight out the Gallery and never had anything new before.

But while Kelly was fixating on price tags as she often does, Lexie was braving the bar and came across another offense:

Now, I, for one, enjoy a little drinking, you know, the one drink that I can afford at Pure, and a healthy helping of dancing. But some people at Making Time spend all of their time being sloppy boozehounds and rude space invaders. With that I can deal. Until some flaked out CCP kid tries stealing the drinks from our table. Yes, I know who you are, you greasy art-school wannabe. And next time you reach to scam a warm lager, I’ll do more than leave bruises (even though it would be unappealing to directly touch you). This practice is sleazy, skeevy, and just plain low-class. And we know some real greasy motherfuckers. Watch out for this shit-head anywhere under-aged scabies mongers show face, because his dirty little fingers could be up in your overpriced beer next.

Rock N Roll Circus on Saturday had us wondering: Does DJ Deejay, definitive harbinger of classic rock in Philadelphia, have a signature picture look? Or is he enraptured by those free fairies every time someone ubergraphs him, which causes him to roll his eyes upward and slightly to the side, ever so calculated? Mirror practice? Aversion to flash? Decide amongst yourselves.

We were gonna fireball some Scene Points in the way of Laris Kreslins for hosting last night’s Philly Jawn Thank You Party at the…LATVIAN SOCIETY! Ohsweetdamn, we are ready to move in to that place as soon as we figure out how to communicate with the bartenders there. And as for those Points, Laris doesn’t need ‘em ’cause he already won the game of cool.

Welcome back to the comments sex, C. The Impaler. Will you give us the love or the STD? Your call.

And yo, Lady-On-Her-Laptop-While-Driving past Govinda’s, what the shit? Were you blogging? Because, if so, we still can’t even dig it. Put that shit away. How ’bout that Wi-fi on Broad St…

What Would Doyle Do?

In the words of Doyle, lovable keyboardist from The A-Sides: “I don’t do too much…that I’m proud of.” Wiser words have never been spoken to us in a room full of drunk, attractive people. It was then that we decided Doyle had all of the answers, about life, and death, and what kind of beer to drink. Each week we’ll find out just what Doyle would do…

…If the bartender at your fave bar passed out before he could serve you?

Hmm, I think most bartenders would know quite well not to pass out at their bar if I was a patron at the time. Not that I’m much of a thief but I would surely exact some revenge involving hot sauce for the lack of service. That should get their ass up and serving. I’ve had that shit done to me and it’s fucking all daggers and shit in your eyes. I’m choked up thinking about it.

Confessions On The Dancefloor

“You have a fag weave.”
“At least I get my shit styled!”

“I climbed a tree with a girl and we made out in a tree.”

#1 Spam In Philebrity’s Inbox This Week

After taking Penis Enlarge Patch you will be able to use your dick as a scarf.

Scene Points: Location, Location

This week, scene points can be absorbed by positioning yourself at one of three places. Our first is easy:

Oh, Cantina! Sweet mistress for any time of day! Your huevos and Bloody Marias call to me from down the lonely street, “Vienes, Lexie…vienes…” When the good stuff hits the bloodstream, Lexie realizes she’s not the only lover undercover. We’re raising the hipfuck terror alert at Cantina to an all-time high of cranberry.

The Red Room at Pure during Making Time is a whole ‘nother realm. The too-sexy-to-dance set convene in the shagadelic underground confines where sultry 60′s seep into the skin. Suddenly, everyone is five times better-looking and drugs are like bubble-gum. There’s a band to your left and a band to your right. The reason you couldn’t find your people upstairs? We took an in-depth look at the Rock-Tits basement with guest A, who was deep in it last we saw her:

Those of you who frequent Pure know that it is composed of three sections. The main floor is crusted with sweaty American Apparelers, the mezzanine is a mixture of tight-jeaned boys dancing close, and the bottom floor has a mysterious set-up. The bar is modernly shaped, and the walls are covered in soft carpet and pink streamers. Seats line the circumference of the room, and are usually filled with conversation. Those who consist of this floor have an air of snobbery-that‚Äôs expected. They all know each other. Most are DJs on off nights, over the age of 24, or have been around long enough to get familiar. 60′s music throngs through the basement, and few people dance because they would rather sip on beers while conversing about the new 45 they discovered. If you want to take a stab at this culture, proceed on down.

RUBA, you are the after-party battery that keeps the night going. Ask the ordained where they’re headed after FREE FAIRIES AND UNICORN SPARKLE!, and chances are, they’re touring RUBA. The VFW-like stronghold stays open until 3, so it’s an easy do for bartenders and party-savers. We don’t get it beyond that, though. At 2 A.M, all we’re thinking is “I have had enough of you people.”

Trendfucking

Saturday night Lexie discovered Planet Club, the Wash Ave Vietnamese Karaoke-bar-in-the-works. Below one of those Vietnamese bakeries lies a world of wonder. Karaoke rooms, a cyber cafe, deejays, a stage, foosball, pool, air hockey, video games and, lest we lose our breath, ping pong await. For the moment, Planet Club is a private BYOB that can be rented out for parties (if you’re lucky and can understand the owner’s broken English), but soon will be rendered into a full-service bar and dance club. We are clearing our schedules for heart-felt renditions of ƒê?™m Nh·ªõ TrƒÉng S?†i G??n and Xin ƒê·ª´ng Tr?°ch ƒêa ƒêa.

The latest flavor of Vitamin Water is the true true healthy-sex. It’s called XXX, or acai-blueberry-pomegranate, and it’s got enough antioxidants to supplement your diet of beer and Party Mix. We even recommend drinking it minus the vodka. And stay tuned for our upcoming cookbook: Mixin’ Cocktails With Lexie & Kelly, featuring Enviga-tinis and PBRgaritas.

This entry was posted on Thursday, April 5th, 2007 at 11:58 am.