The Heavenly Spies are a burlesque troupe composed of three gorgeous ladies, each with an alter ego for their espionage-a-trois dance act. While dancing, they are, in no particular order: Secret Agent Tasty Trouble, Double... oh... Sassy, and Detective Cha Cha Cha. They're throwing a party—a top-secret member of the group is turning the big Two-Nine—and guests have to come dressed as their own alter egos. There are two businessmen, a convincingly befanged vampire with a frightening blond mullet, and a Liza-in-Cabaret lady who compares fishnets with other leggy partiers. Someone asks a friend to point out the hole in her stockings, then she winks at us, whispering: "She always knows where my holes are."

A discussion about astronaut nicknames—"Don't all astronauts have to be named Buzz?" we ask innocently—turns into a what's-your-astronaut-name Rorschach test. "Bill," a woman curiously blurts. "Ruby!" someone says. Ms. Cha Cha Cha walks into the room and declares her astronaut name to be "Sister Sassafras," which causes "Bill" to ask: "Can I change mine to Betty Crocker?" Nobody has an answer for that.

There's a foxy dance by the Heavenly Spies that transforms the partiers in the living room into a swarm of lascivious Tex Avery cartoon wolves—whose birthday is it, again? The Spies cede their makeshift stage to Hardison, an up-and-coming band with a charismatic lead singer and a mid-'90s rawk edge that sounds fresh all over again. "They sound good," a grinning woman next to us says, "But I'm still seeing a blur of fishnets."

Want to inform The Stranger that we look like funnyman Rick Moranis, "...but only in Little Shop of Horrors" at your house party? E-mail the date, place, time, and party details to partycrasher@thestranger.com.