Or maybe I should clarify… Get *Le* high.

So maybe you’ve seen those ads that vaguely suggest a human form suspended in a fog of splendor.  They usually have names like Zumanity and Ka and Mystere and The Beatles: Love.  I just know I couldn’t come up with any of those fancy show titles.  I also know that I could never do anything that those crazy Cirque people do… or could I?

Le Studio in Culver City offers classes in the aerial arts, including trapeze, lyra-hoop, silk, hammock, swing set, hand balancing, and contortion.  These classes are open to kids (age 3-15) and adults (16+), so all of our 3-year-old readers out there can finally get out on the town and get their aerobatics on!  I’ll tell you this, if at the tender age of 3, a contorted Marksy was able to suspend his body from ceilings, I would have had days worth of groundings for finding new ways to terrorize the adults in my life.   Ah, the free flying days of youth.

Regardless of how you plan to use these newly found powers of gravity manipulation, a great way to get a taste of what the program has to offer is by checking out their theatrical in-house performances.  This Friday & Saturday, they are hosting a scripted show called Re-Wired, a play that “takes a close look at the inner wirings of human beings and what makes them incapable of achieving their full potential.”

The show has genuine pro Cirque performers and if you have ever seen a Cirque show or ever wanted to see one, then this is a great opportunity to catch another performance or start down a new, amazing path of aerobatic discovery.

Buy tickets through their website.

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WHAT: Theatrical acrobatics!
WHEN: Friday, Aug 6 & Saturday, Aug 7 – 7:30 pm
WHERE: Le Studio, Culver City
$$$: $25

I was sure that there was a Heathers joke to be had in that headline (”Teen Tetricide — Do It”), but you can’t win ‘em all.

ANYWAY.

This Saturday at 8 PM, the underground Echo Park gallery Pehrspace is hosting the opening night of Tetricide, a month-long exhibit of old-school-video-game-inspired artwork. It’s going to be wall-to-wall 8-bit awesomeness, with an emphasis on “interactive and experiential” pieces, with more pixelated imagery than you can swing a flaming arm of fire at. Featured artists include such avant-garde luminaries as J.R. Baldwin (known for creating the “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas” board game, which I suppose makes him like the Parker Brother who doesn’t get invited to family reunions anymore) and Sam Yurick (a genre-jumper known for rapping over laptop beats while wearing a homemade Spiderman costume, amongst other great feats of what-the-fuckery.) They’re even hosting the premier of director Felix Lee’s “Back to the Future the Ride” music video, and although I have no idea what that means, I’m deeply intrigued.

The place is extremely difficult to find, detailed directions are here. Plus, it’s free. (Power-ups not included.)

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WHAT: Old-school-game-inspired art show
WHEN: Saturday, July 10th, 8 PM – Midnight
WHERE: Pehrspace
$$$: Free

Recently, some altruistic genius sat down and thought to himself: “What are the things that Angelenos love above all else? What common ground do we share in this sprawling multicultural metropolis of ours?”

Hmmm. Hauling ass in our cars around Dash buses that are going 11 mph and taking up two lanes? Sure, we all dig that.  Burning shit down whenever the Lakers win/lose? That’s something we can get behind. Rooting for each other’s failure? Yes, but mostly in Hollywood. Bitching about the lack of carpool lanes on the 405 like a fat guy who thinks that buying bigger pants is the answer? Hallelujah, we are one. But those are all surface traits. If you really want to dig deep into what unspoken bonds unite as brothers and sisters in the City of Angels… then I have four words for you.

Outdoor movies. Food trucks.

And starting this weekend, the good people at the Outdoor Cinema Foodfest will bring those two timeless LA infatuations together. All summer long, they’ll be screening classics like The Big Lebowski, The Breakfast Club, Pulp Fiction, and The Princess Bride (as well as The Hangover, for anyone who wants to get their drink mickey’d by that movie’s legions of backwards-white-baseball-cap-wearing fans), all while serving victuals from such mobile luminaries as The Grilled Cheese Truck, Canter’s, The South Philly Experience, and Nom Nom’s.

This Saturday they’ll be showing Swingers, one of the all-time great love letters to this town, that rare movie about a flash-in-the-pan subculture that still remains funny, poignant, and truthful for years (sixteen years, oh my God) after its release. Insert “you’re so money” joke here.

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WHAT: Outdoor movies + food trucks
WHEN: Saturdays, all summer, doors open at 6:30
WHERE: Grand Hope Park
$$$: $8

Gunplay. Bombings. Cheese-grater torture. For the real deal in ultra-violent thrills and nihilistic giggles this summer, forget the movies — just trek over to the Mark Taper Forum for their presentation of The Lieutenant of Inishmore, running now through August 8th. For anyone familiar with the work of Martin McDonough, the depraved Irish playwright behind such affronts to human decency as The Pillow Man and The Beauty Queen of Leenane, (as well as 2008’s Oscar-nominated screenplay for the hilarious splatstick crime-comedy In Bruges) you know what you’re getting yourself into. Everyone else, brace yourselves; shit’s gonna get medieval.

Starring Chris Pine, the unfairly-good-looking centerpiece of last year’s Star Trek reboot, Inishmore follows the adventures of Padraic, a young IRA terrorist whose sadism and sociopathy are matched only by his love of his pet cat, Wee Thomas. When Wee Thomas turns up dead and Padraic returns to his hometown to investigate, barbaric sociopolitical farce ensues. The show has only been out a week, and there are already reports of horrified old people walking out of it. This deserves our support.

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WHAT: The wildest night of theater in town
WHEN: Now – August 8th
WHERE: The Mark Taper Forum
$$$: $25-$35

“The difference between being ‘naked’ and being ‘nekkid’ is, that when you are naked, you have no clothes on. However, when you are nekkid, you have no clothes on and you are up to something.” — Tom Robbins, “Skinny Legs and All”

This Saturday, happening in 70 cities and 20 countries across the globe, is World Naked Bike Ride day — a world-wide celebration of all things bicycle and body-image. Anyone with a bike and a willingness to go balls-out (or, y’know, whatever-out) is welcome to join. And as part of my quest to make the unsuspecting civilians of Los Angeles see things they can’t unsee, I too will be participating. Ladies, please, CALM YOURSELVES.

Is nudity mandatory? Not at all — this thing is “bare as you dare.” (Although for anyone who’s seen me with my shirt off, it’ll be more like “bear as you dare”– zing!) Everyone’s going to meet in Echo Park at 1:30 PM for a body-decorating party, with the ride leaving at 4 PM sharp. It’ll be a medium-paced 13-mile loop around the East Side, ending in a barbecue/after-party at a to-be-disclosed location. (Please say “Pat Robertson’s house”, please say “Pat Robertson’s house.”) RSVP on Facebook to get ride directions and info.

We’re gonna get a medal for this one, kids.

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WHAT: World Naked Bike Ride Day
WHEN: Saturday, June 12th, pre-ride at 1:30, ride at 4
WHERE: Echo Park (rsvp for details)
$$$: Free

The Venice Beach Carnevale will not be televised. Nor will it actually be held in Venice; apparently, tonight’s hedonistic costume contest/dance-party/annual gathering of LA’s freaky people has somehow gotten too insane for the uptight streets of Venice Beach and has been moved to a secret location around Jefferson/Sepulveda. (If this were a grindhouse movie, the announcer would now solemnly intone: “It‘s a party so wild they had to move it to Culver City… where life is cheap!”)

Ok, let’s take a step back and think about this for a moment — how, exactly, does one get kicked out of Venice? Have you been there lately? You could walk around with a severed head and tourists would still ask to take pictures with you. Last time I was hanging out on the boardwalk, a guy in a leopard-print vest and bootie-shorts tried to sell me some meth, as well as (I am not making this up), a live, 5-foot python. Anyway so now I’ve got all this meth and a live python and my friends no longer like to come over. Point that I’m making here, people, it takes a lot to get your ass 86′d from Venice Beach. This event deserves your consideration.

Will there be a full-size intergalactic pirate ship known as the Space Wench to gallivant around? There will be. Will there be floor-shaking beats from the likes of Fatfinger, Todd Spero, and divaDanielle (who I’ve pimped so many times on this site, people are are going to sooner or later think I’m involved in some kind of payola scheme?) Bet your ass. Will there be a masquerade costume contest that lands somewhere between Salvador Dali and Eyes Wide Shut? Most definitely. Will there be a certain amount of public nudity? Yes ma’am. Will there be acrobats and fire performers and go-go dancers? What do you think this is, the Republican National Convention? (Ok, bad example.) Just remember to come in costume — “exotic and erotic attire encouraged.”

And if you want to get in, RSVP here today to get the address and final details for tonight.

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WHAT: Carnevale masquerade party
WHEN: Saturday June 5th, 8:30 PM – 3:30 AM
WHERE: Culver City (RSVP to get address)
$$$: $15 (or $35 for VIP/open bar)

Apparently, the glee-club nerds grew up to be sexy.

Meet the Silverlake Chorus — a choir group described by its founding member Sam Rader as “warm-hearted Angelenos gathering to create harmonies aplenty while wearing oversized glasses and skinny jeans.” They’ve got no backing band, no choreographed dancing, no Broadway showboating  — but what they do have are lush, all-vocal covers of indie staples like Beck and Regina Spektor (and for all five of you who saw MacGruber, that was them singing the opening theme.) They’re making their splashy debut this Friday at El Cid. Good times are sure to be had by all.

Joining the plethora of talent onstage will be underground stalwarts Alex Lilly (Obi Best), Joaquin Pastor, Pi Jacobs and John Gold. Also performing (and producing their upcoming album) will be Ben Lee, the demon responsible for such Up-With-People-by-way-of-Guantamo-Bay atrocities as “I Love Pop Music”, and  “I’m A Woman Too.” This man needs to get got. However — we cannot hold that against the group at large. Get out to El Cid, people. Gleefulness awaits.

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WHAT: The Silverlake Chorus
WHEN: Friday, June 4th, 8 pm
WHERE: El Cid
$$$: $10

In a world where Blockbuster Video is getting slaughtered by Netflix, Red Box, and my cousin Tito who sells DVD’s out the trunk of his 1996 Nissan Sentra (email me, I’ll hook it up), it takes an LA institution like Laser Blazer to thrive. Formerly co-joined with Kevin Smith’s comic shop Jay and Silent Bob’s Secret Stash (before Smith went off to make his documentary about gun owners with Down Syndrome) Laser Blazer is an old-school, brick-and-mortar movie-aficionado haven, with regulars ranging from Benicio Del Toro and Laurence Fishburne to Matt Groening and Jonah Hill (even Michael Jackson used to stop by back in the day.) Think Amoeba Records, but less overpriced and with fewer people who look like this hanging around. I love it; it’s like the barbershop from Barbershop for geeky film guys.

Another reason to love it: this Saturday at 2 PM, the brilliant internet sketch group Derrick Comedy — creators of such genius bits as a self-defense video made for sociopaths and a 24 parody that somehow manages to be more ridiculous than 24 – will be at the store for a Q&A and a DVD signing. They’ll be autographing copies of Mystery Team, their debut comedy that blew up the Sundance Film Festival and plays like a mash-up of Encyclopedia Brown and Superbad. (Watch the trailer; do not watch it at work.)

You’ll also get a chance to high-five the guy who could (if there is any justice in this world) become the next Spiderman. Team-member Donald Glover, of NBC’s hilarious Community, has just become the center of a Betty White-style internet campaign to make him the star of the Spidey reboot. (My two cents: Peter Parker is from Queens. Tobey Maguire would get his ass kicked in Queens. Donald Glover would not. Edge – Glover.)

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WHAT: Derrick Comedy DVD signing
WHEN: Saturday June 5th, 2 PM
WHERE: Laser Blazer
$$$: Free

Two years ago, a gang of spirited young hooligans armed with MP3 players invaded Mann’s Chinese Theater to hold a very public dance-party. The invasion started quietly, done in plain sight, everyone simply mingling and pretending to examine celebrity handprints outside… until 10:07 PM, when everyone busted out earphones like gunslingers in a Robert Rodriguez movie and danced their ass off to whatever was on their Ipod — a silent, joyous collision between flash-mob and discotheque. There was also a conga-line at one point.

Tourists were mystified. Employees were stymied. Security was unable to stop laughing, even as they escorted us out. Undeterred, the party continued, West Side Story-style, down to Hollywood and Highland, where street performers, celebrity impersonators, and random passerby joined in on the festivities. (A guest appearance was made by several stone-faced, video-camera-brandishing members of the LAPD.) Footage of all this epic-ness is available right here.

Anyway — this year, rather than hold our party at some Hollywood tourist trap, we’re instead going for a prized LA institution, something this city holds near and dear, a place where regular folks go to peacefully shop, dine and take trolley-rides. That’s right, kids: we’re gonna storm The Grove.

Meet-up point is in front of Pacific 14 Movie Theater, by the fountains. Get there by 10 PM. Come ready to boogie in public (do what you need to do here, guys.) Mingle, act normal, do not attract attention from civilians. Headphones go in at exactly 10:07 PM, and then we dance like lunatics until security shows us out, at which point we respectfully go find a new “dance floor” elsewhere and repeat.  Afterparty at The Kibitz Room bar at Canter’s.

RSVP on Facebook here.

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WHAT: Mobile Dance-Club Party
WHEN: Friday, June 18th — dancing starts at 10:07 PM, sharp
WHERE: The Grove, in front of movie theater
$$$: Free

People talk about Runyon Canyon as being an “escape from the city.” Nonsense, I tell you — Runyon is basically a Crunch’s gym with sunlight. I see more Blackberry users there than at Insert Upscale-Beverly-Hills-Restaurant-That-I-Don’t-Go-To Here. If you want a real escape from the city, listen close…

Hidden directly off Los Feliz Blvd, right around the corner where it turns into Western, there’s a hidden woodland oasis that looks like something straight out of J.R.R. Tolkien’s subconscious. I’m talking about a place called Ferndell Park — which, you notice, even has a vaguely Middle Earth-y sounding name. You turn in near the sculpture of the dancing bear, and from here, you follow a densely shaded path, ensconced in California sycamores, winding up along gently trickling streams, past wooden guide-barriers and under stone bridges. The sound of the distant traffic fades out, and is replaced by that of birds, running water, and even — that rarest of LA commodities — silence. And yet you are still only a short walk from snacks.

For short men with hairy feet, i.e. me, this place is a dream come true.

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WHAT: hidden LOTR-esque mini-hike
WHEN: good all year round
WHERE: Ferndell Park
$$$: Free

You solve one problem, you create another. Take the LA river for example; back in the 1930’s, it was prone to erratic, city-wide flash-floods — most notoriously the deluge of 1938, a catastrophe that killed 115 people, caused $40 million in damage, and caused mayor Frank L. Shaw to resign in embarrassment after running his campaign on the slogan “Get Tough On Floods.” Anyway, in an effort to curb the floods’ infinitely-more-successful campaign of “Get Tough On LA”, the US Army Corps of Engineers undertook the ambitious task of paving the entire river in cement, so as to better control its flow. Which was a brilliant idea that made everyone happy, at least until everyone realized that a cement river is about as aesthetically pleasing as Rush Limbaugh in a tanning bed, and that it would soon become a crime-infested, vagrant-attracting, graffiti-covered, trash-strewn HPV-wart on the ass of the city.

Like I said: you solve one problem, you create another. But sometimes, out of that new problem, you get art.

Which brings us to the Ulysses Guide To The LA River, an exhibition happening now through July 3rd at the Pasadena Museum of California Art. It’s inspired by the book of the same name by urban explorer Christopher D. Brand, who spent years traversing all 51 miles of the concrete tributary, discovering its hidden pockets of loveliness and horror. Every piece in the show — from graffiti murals, to oil paintings, to algae-covered beer bottles stashed throughout the museum, to live plants and a prerecorded soundscape of river noises, to a full-scale recreation of an under-the-bridge canal — depicts the beautiful/blighted aesthetic of LA’s native waterway. It offers a glimpse of a place most Angelenos never experience up close — a district of overgrown greenery, 50-year-old street art, wildlife both animal and human, enshrouded in a palpable sense of gutter-dwelling danger and subterranean mystery.

It’s the next best thing to simply jumping the fence and checking the river out for real. (Not that I would ever suggest such a thing…)

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WHAT: down-and-dirty LA river art exhibit
WHEN: Wednesday-Sunday, 12 PM – 5 pm
WHERE: Pasadena Museum of California Art
$$$: $7 admission, $5 with student ID

The Shangri La Hotel in Santa Monica has been keeping secrets from us. For years, its hidden rooftop bar, Suite 700, was only open to guests; this was, of course, back at a time when people had “money” to do things like “stay in hotels” and “not eat sandwiches made of actual sand.” (Apparently, the place had an outdoor group shower going on for a while, a prospect which made me wonder if Joe Francis had secretly incorporated the hotel into his empire of douchery.)  No matter — as of this week, Suite 700 has thrown open its doors to the unwashed masses.

The inside is nothing special — obscured color-lights, “Miami Vice” bad-guy furnishings, half-decade old Justin Timberlake songs pumping on the stereo, short-backed chairs that make you so uncomfortable they could have been designed by Andy Kaufman, a halfway decent dirty martini – but the outside deck is the joint’s saving grace.

Go at sunset and you get a gorgeous view of the coast, with Ocean Ave traffic slowly melting into the ant-like procession up the PCH.  Go after dark and watch the neon-flashing rungs of the Santa Monica Ferris Wheel glow like a distant dance-party.  The wood-burning fire pit will send you home smelling like a campfire, lending the whole experience an “Entourage meets Boy Scout Camp” kind of feel.  (Now there is a show I would watch, mainly to confirm certain suspicions I have about men in their 30’s who still live together.)

Suite 700: more fun than watching The 700 Club while high.

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WHAT: Rooftop bar in Santa Monica
WHEN: 5 – Midnight, 7 days a week (later on weekends)
WHERE: Shangri La Hotel
$$$: Between $8 and $10 a drink

Do you ever find yourself getting nostalgic for stuff that never happened to you?  Be honest — when the song “American Woman” by The Guess Who comes on your car radio, do you imagine yourself in 1971, cruising along in a t-top Camaro with summer winds blowing through your feathered hair? Do you watch Mad Men and secretly long for a day when it was appropriate to drink multiple martinis at work? Ever seen an old gangster flick and then wondered about the logistics of buying a Tommy-gun? (Spoiler alert: they’re legal!)

If you answered “yes” to any of those, have I got the place for you: The Cicada Club, a frozen-in-time throwback to the swing era, situated in the art-deco sumptuousness of the Oviatt Building on Olive St. This place has a 1940’s ambiance so all consuming, it renders time machines obsolete.

Originally built, according to the website, in 1928 as a “top-of-the-line haberdashery” (no doubt the envy of all those other wack-ass haberdasheries frontin’ up in the 213 at the time), the club features live big-band music every Sunday night, a sprung-wood floor populated by some of the most graceful swing-dancers you’ll ever lay eyes on, and a gin menu that could make W.C. Fields weep in ecstasy. (They also do a fixed-price dinner, but it’s A: reportedly not that great, B: overpriced at $50 per person, and C: requires you to interact with the Cicada waiters, who I generally found to be grouchy ass-clowns.)

My advice: skip the food, grab a sloe-gin fizz, and find someone to swing with. It doesn’t matter if you’re any good; I have houseplants that are better dancers than some of the people out on that floor. (In fact, some of those people’s names rhyme with “Me.”) But that’s the wonderful thing about this place — it’s utterly egalitarian. The crowd ranges from early 20’s to late 60’s; black guys in Andre 3000 outfits rub shoulders with white dudes in pin-stripe suits and Asian girls in evening gowns. Even the 12-piece orchestra is delightfully all over the map, featuring someone who looks like a well-fed old rabbi on the bass, a young fella in a do-rag on the clarinet, a heart-stoppingly beautiful redhead trumpet player, and a Morgan Freeman lookalike for a front-man who I believe possesses the most genuinely joyful smile I’ve ever seen on a human being.

Keep in mind: the other thing that truly unites the crowd (besides a love of all things post-war) is the dress code. Cicada Club requires a jacket/tie/dress shoes for guys and evening gowns for gals — dress like you were going to The Edison, in other words. And remember, the next time you find yourself wishing you were alive in an era when the drinks were two-fisted, the music was big, the dames were classy and the guys were… well, off fighting Hitler for the most part — this is the place you come.

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WHAT: Ultra-immersive 1940’s swing-dancing club
WHEN: Sunday nights, 6PM – 11 PM
WHERE: 617 South Olive Street
$$$: $10’s at the door, $8-$12 a drink

Along one of LA’s ugliest streets — a soul-deadening stretch of Jefferson Blvd that runs through the industrial sector of Culver City, past tinny warehouses and the graffiti-strewn cement banks of Ballona Creek — lies one of the city’s best views.  Not on the street, mind you, but above it, in the Baldwin Hills Scenic Overlook. From atop that unassuming hill, surrounded by fields of yellow flowers and winding garden paths, you can see from Catalina to Compton, from downtown to the Hollywood sign, from Century City to the Inland Empire, and everything in between.

As for how you get up to there, you have two choices — 1: automobile/bike, or 2: PAIN. And by that I mean, a set of steps that are like the brutish, inked-up, just-got-out-of-jail cousin to the Silverlake Stairs — haphazard slabs of stone, spaced unevenly in a dizzying line straight up the face of the mountain. They’re an infernal test of a workout (you know you’re in for a treat when the Yelp reviews say things like “Do not climb these stairs without first downloading ‘Ms. New Bootie’ by Bubba Sparxxx onto your Ipod; thinking of how nice this is going to make your ass look is the only thing that will prevent your imminent collapse.”) But that ordeal only makes the breath-stealing sights up top so much more rewarding.

You’ll notice the overlook doesn’t offer the same pastoral view of the city you’d get from, say, Paseo Miramar. Instead, it serves up a warts-and-all portrait of everything gorgeous and awful about our city — gleaming sun-bright towers and anonymous urban sprawl, nightmarishly teeming freeways and rolling green hills, blue ocean and beige smog, industrial and residential, rich and poor, the effing terrible and the ineffable.

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WHAT: Urban hike with an amazing view
WHEN: Good all year round
WHERE: West Jefferson Blvd, Culver City
$$$: Free

One of the hallmarks of a great LA restaurant is that they have hours designed to piss you off.  For example, at some point in time, Bay City Deli reached into a hat and picked out “Mondays” as the day they were going to close for unnamed reasons. Yuca’s on Hillhurst has no actual hours of operation and exists in a state of utter anarchy. Langer’s opens at 8 AM (for all those craving deli-meats and coleslaw for breakfast) and closes at 4 PM (because, well, fuck you.) It’s bad enough to make bankers look at these guys and be like “Damn, when do you actually work?”

But all these places have one thing in common: a transcendent culinary experience — and in that proud tradition comes Cliff’s Edge. This hidden Silverlake gem proves once and for all that joints like The Varnish and The Roger Room don’t have the game locked when it comes to “awesome places with no signs.” You’ll drive by three times before you see it — a nondescript tea-green bunker on the corner of Sunset and Griffith Park. You enter a tall wrought-iron door in the back of the parking lot and immediately find yourself on an idyllic, multi-tiered wooden deck built into the face of a cliff (hence the moniker) and surrounded by mini-forests of bamboo.

As for the brunch menu: the eggs benedict is divine, the pumpkin ravioli perfectly spiced, and the spicy ahi tuna tartare — chopped with fresh mango and served atop a bed of seaweed salad — engages every type of taste-bud on your tongue at once in perfect harmony. But the guilty secret of Cliff’s Edge is definitely the fries with the gorgonzola dipping sauce — pungent, creamy, and vaguely redolent of red onion amidst tiny hunks of green-veined goodness. You’ll sit back and sip a blueberry Stoli Italian soda, and watch sunlight dance amidst the leaves, and slowly forget that any other outdoor restaurant ever existed in this city.

But ah, here’s the rub: it’s only open during the day on weekends. I ask you — what kind of cruel, sick, depraved joke is that? You’ve got this restaurant that is second to none when it comes to blissful al fresco-ness, and yet only has daylight hours twice a week? ARE YOU PEOPLE OUT OF YOUR MINDS? VAMPIRES SEE MORE SUN THAN THAT! Ok, fine, if Saturdays and Sundays are all we’re getting, that’s all we’re getting.  We’ll manage.

Somehow.

Pass the sauce.

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WHAT: Unparalleled outdoor brunch
WHEN: Only on weekends from 11-3 (because God hates us)
WHERE: Cliff’s Edge
$$$: $10-$15 a plate

Let’s say it’s 5 o’clock. You’re just getting off a hard day of work as a rag-picker or reality TV assistant or whatever, and you want nothing more in the world than to go somewhere quiet and drown a few sorrows.  My advice?  Forget antiquated concepts like “beer“, or “cocktails“, or “ambiguously legal muscle-relaxants you bought from that guy outside the Texaco.” You do actually want to drown your sorrows, yes? Not just give them a lukewarm bath? Then I have three words for you: absinthe happy hour.

Every day from 5-7 at Bar Noir, inside the fabulous boutique Maison 140 Hotel (their slogan: “opulence can come in small packages” – a line I’m going to start using with the ladies), they’re hosting an event known as L’Heure Verte, which is French for “Oh my fucking God, how the hell am I drunk, it’s only 5:15?” For these two hours in this vaguely Asian tea-room style setting, bartenders will demonstrate the centuries-old serving ritual associated with this 100-proof green alcohol.  Each glass will only run you $5; those savings will come in handy when you need bail.

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WHAT: Absinthe happy hour
WHEN: Every day, 5 – 7 PM
WHERE: Bar Noir
$$$: $5 a glass

You haven’t really lived until you’ve gone flying down Wilshire Blvd on a bicycle at 10 o’clock at night surrounded by a speeding mob of 300 hundred other cyclists — and this Friday, you have the opportunity to do just that. Critical Mass is world-wide celebration of bike culture, happening once a month in different cities all around the globe, wherein hordes of pedal-enthusiasts take to the night-time streets and let their freak flags fly. The event’s moniker comes from a phenomenon in which traffic is compelled to a stand-still once a high enough number of bikes take over the road. (This doesn’t, however, give you license to be a dick to passing motorists and/or the cops — this means you, idiot from last month who wowed the world with his creativity by yelling “I smell bacon” at the LAPD.  Guys like you make me wish Daryl Gates was still alive.)

The ride starts at 7:30 PM sharp, at the Western/Wilshire metro station. Bring your wheels, helmet, an extra tube, water, and learn the call-outs.  And most importantly, bring front and rear lights — crucial for obvious safety reasons, as well as being part of the magical visual effect you get when you crest a hill and look down upon a moving river of blinking red luminescence. For the three hours of contained anarchy that go along with CM taking to the streets, there’s no better way to spend a Friday night.

For more information, check out their Facebook page.

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WHAT: Crazy night-time bike ride
WHEN: Friday April 30th — meet up at 6:30, ride at :730
WHERE: Wilshire/Western metro station
$$$: Free

Culver City is decadent and depraved! Well, no, that’s not entirely true, it’s actually kind of New Jersey suburb-ish and really rather pleasant… but on May 8th, there’s an underground festival going on that will set those earlier words in stone. That’s when the Mystikal Misfits, a hardy tribe of LA-based Burning Man fanatics, are throwing COLLECTION! – a dance party that promises such high levels of giddy debauchery, anyone who hopes to someday have a political career should avoid getting photographed there.

There will be mysterious cocktails.  There will be fire-dancing. There will be adorable, scantily-clad boys and girls running around in “Mad Max” gear and neon fur.  There will be a giant Twister board, for those of you who need a socially acceptable reason to get in compromising positions with aforementioned adorables. There will be amazing house and electro DJ’s, headlined by DivaDanielle tag-teaming with Todd Spero, spinning the kind of beats that will later have your doctor admonishing you to include less funkiness in your diet. There will be an aromatherapy booth, and classy dames selling cigarettes (not in the aromatherapy booth.) It’s being held at Mission Control, adjacent to Jefferson Ave and the 405, the exact building address of which is being kept under wraps until the night of the party — RSVP on the Facebook page to get all the details.

Culver City will never know what hit it.

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WHAT: Underground Burning Man dance party
WHEN: Saturday, May 8th, 9PM – 4 AM
WHERE: Mission Control
$$$: $15

Are you already feeling nostalgic for The Specials’ triumphant comeback performance at Coachella last weekend (or are one of those poor souls who missed it entirely, because you couldn’t afford a ticket/had other plans/were actually at Coachella but were busy having a mescaline-fueled existential meltdown inside a Port-a-John?)  Fear not — because Friday nights at La Cita are all about the Punky Reggae Party.  Housed in slow-slung joint with brothel-like lighting and arguably the sweatiest dance floor in downtown, La Cita’s weekend start-up shindig is where you go when you want to unashamedly skank to some Madness, Fishbone, The Sex Pistols, Sister Nancy, and of course, our dearly reunited Specials.  If the word “penance” can be used in relation to anything this much fun, consider it penance for all those terrible third-wave ska-punk albums you bought in the mid-90’s. (Get there early, this place fills up fast.)

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WHAT: Punky Reggae Party
WHEN: Friday Nights, 9 PM-2 AM
WHERE: La Cita
$$$: Free before 11 PM, $5 after

If you’re still feeling the classic vibe (see last week’s Try A Vintage On For Size), get down with the Vintage Fashion Expo this Saturday and Sunday (April 24th & 25th) at the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium. One of five yearly shows with pieces ranging from 1850-1980, this for-sale gathering of timeless clothing, jewelry, accessories, and textiles is essentially the longest-running vintage show in the country and sure to get your creativity flowing.

Rub elbows with fellow vintage aficionados, designers, and…probably a fair share of lookie-loos (myself included) to find something your grandma could have owned, but now you do.  Look forward to unforgettable styles from: Chanel, Yves Saint Laurent, and Pucci or for those lucky few who have already inherited a necklace or two, there will be FREE appraisals on site by vintage jewelry expert, Leigh Leshner as well.

They don’t seem to offer drinks, but you’ll be within walking distance of the beach, and will definitely need some fresh air after a hard history-hunting day anyways.  Plus, it’s co-sponsored by the Federation of Vintage Fashion, benefiting the education and preservation of such events, pieces, and the next generation of vintage lovers, which is pretty rad.  I’m IN.

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WHAT: Vintage Fashion Expo
WHEN: Saturday, April 24th 10:30am-6pm & Sunday, April 25th 11am-5pm
WHERE: Santa Monica Civic Auditorium
$$$: $5 with Goldstar, $10 without