Which Stefon Club Are You?
This place has everything: Lights, psychos, Furbies, screaming babies in Mozart wigs, sunburned drifters with soap sud beards. You know, that thing when the hobo becomes a rich man, so they take that big bubble bath?
Club promoter Gay Liotta is back, and this time he’s… gone… crazy. This place has everything: Twinks, gypsies, grown men in wedding dresses, a cat from a bodega, puppets in disguise. You know, it’s that thing of when Alf wore a trench coat, so he could go out into public.
This place has everything: Gauze, carnival barkers, groups of guys with afros in graduation caps, human fire hydrants. You know, it’s that thing of when high-waisted midgets have like, the red pants and the big ass.
Nightlife designer Tranny Griffith is back with an all-new club that answers the question, “Huh?!?” This place has everything: Ice sculptures, winos, Germfs – German smurfs – a Teddy Ruxpin wearing mascara, an old lady wearing Kid ‘N Play hair, and none other than DJ Baby Bok Choy. He’s a giant 300-pound Chinese baby who wears tinted aviator glasses, and he spins records with his little ravioli hands.
Located at an abandoned orphanage on the Lower Lower East Side of Chelsea, this round-the-clock puke party is creation of narcoleptic club owner Snoozin’ Lucci. This place has everything: Pugs, geezers, doo-wop groups, a wise old turtle that looks like Quincy Jones — and you’ll have your own When Harry Met Sally moment when you share a special kiss with Gizblow, the coked-up gremlin.
This lower lower East Side dump is the creation of club owner Tranderson Cooper. It finally answers the question, “Do I have to?” This place has everything: Schitzos, kite enthusiasts — and that’s not all! Look who just came in — it’s Blingo! You know...Black Ringo.
This place has everything: Ghosts, banjos, Carl Paladino, a stuck-up kitten who won’t sign autographs, furkels. You know, fat Urkels. After you’ve been with one of those guys, you’ll ask yourself “Did I do thaaaat?’”
This club has everything: 12 jacked albinos, 11 Little Richards, 10 piercer babies, 9 Asian Balkis, 8 gay Aladdins, 7 psychos swearing, 6 PuertoScreechens (Puerto Rican Screeches), 5 homeless Elmos, 4 coked-up frogs, 3 French hens, Tay-lor Ne-gron, and a hu-man park-ing coooooone! You know, that thing of when two jacked midgets paint themselves orange, and you have to parallel park between them.
This place has everything: Freckles, potato people, a room full of Heprechauns – Leprechauns with Hep C. Plus, you can hit the dance floor with a group of Hoombas! You know, human Roombas. It’s that thing of when you put a midget on a skateboard and it slides around on your floor eating garbage.
Don’t be fooled by the charred Red Lobster sign out front; this club is a burned-down Red Lobster. This place has everything: A shake for breakfast, a shake for lunch, a sensible dinner, those shoes that nurses wear — and you can dance the night away to the sounds of Donald Duck having a Vietnam nightmare.
Opened at gunpoint in a Lady Footlocker, this Long Island cold spot is managed by infamous gay running back Blowjay Simpson. This place has everything: Soda, purple stuff, Sunny D, and a VIP room for football jellyfish. You know, it’s that thing when NFL players have the helmet, but with skinny dreads hanging out.
This place has everything: Tweekers, skeevies, Spud Webb, a child, and a Russian guy who runs on a treadmill in a Cosby sweater. Plus, the bouncer’s a bulldog who looks like Wilford Brimley, and the password is “dia-beat-us!”