When, in the natural course of faggoty events, it becomes necessary for us, as a people, to turn our gay attentions to new and crucial things, it becomes equally important to clarify that by "things" we're talking about "events and/or places," and that "new" means "old-but-new," "newish-but-older," and just plain "brand-fucking-new," respectively. Of these new and crucial things, there are three. (As you've obviously guessed, you big sexy musclebrainz you.) The first (oooh—so excited!) I've mentioned in passing previously, it's true, but the scope with which the event has FLOWN off the flippin' gay HIZZLE mandates further attention. This event is called ELEKTROPOP. It happens at the old Baltic Room, where nobody thought anything new and good would ever probably happen again. (FOOLS!) It sprang from the steaming bowels of nowhere practically, and has been shocking the shit out of mostly me with its verve, nerve, and something else that ends in "erve." C89's DJ Skiddle is the resident spinner, it's hosted by the towering Mama Tits, and, in the grand tradition of the old Hard Times parties and all of Kevin Kauer/Nark's events, wild and colorful costumage of Mardi Gras proportions is de rigueur—and grand and peculiar enough to make even murderous Michael Alig's old NYC Club Kids look like a fucking "I'm a Mormon" bus ad. Spangle up those lips in rhinestones, put on your best blue hair, and get to it. Baltic Room, 8 pm, $10, 21+.



Brand-flippin'-new, sleek, humongous, harking back somewhat in style to our deeply mourned Manray, the Social is part restaurant, part cabaret, part bar, part nightclub, and pretty darn gay all around—a playroom from the brains what brought you Grim's, but definitely much less annoying than that. I bet. Fingers crossed. The Social, 8 pm, $10, 21+.

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Speaking of Mama Tits, which we just were (pay attention!), she's a giant, womanlike creature that's invading everything gay and Seattley like an invasive tropical species of some sort, but with really awesome hair and enough mysterious drag power to turn boring old Sunday brunch at the Grill on Broadway into a weekly destination event! Featuring the draggy powers of Ursula Majors, Tipsy Rose Lee, and even more each week (plus mandatory mimosas), it proves that, yes, even fucking brunch can get a whole lot gayer. The Grill on Broadway, 2 pm, $20, 21+.