That's 39,600 pints, otherwise known as a fun weekend.

Tomorrow we head down to Washington DC for the out-of-town debut of Bump 'n' Grindhouse! We're pretty psyched by the reception we've received, including from a bunch of the local burlesque performers who have been plugging the show, and we've gotten great coverage from just about every press outlet in town, including this terrific write-up in the Washington Post Express.

But first, a big Friday night, New York style! We'll be attending the grand opening party for the new New Museum on the Bowery; I'll have plenty more to write about that later. And then we're heading straight to Southpaw in Brooklyn for the Burlesque Alliance's big Novemberfest! Clams will be performing her celebrated Irish Girl number in memory of the 450 full kegs of beer stolen from the Guinness Brewery in the middle of Dublin last night. Come on down and join us!

While I'm sharing...(I promise this is not disturbing at all)

Forwarded to me by the incomparable Creamy Stevens. God bless him, he's so sincere. Listen all the way to the end, trust me.

Holy fucking shit!

Jesus Christ, Canada! Can you take it down a notch? I'm just trying to eat dinner and eat hockey, but forget that shit.

AC/DC music and burlesque, like chocolate and peanut butter.

One of the most fun shows of any kind that I've ever been too happened over a year ago, when the finest AC/DC cover band ever assembled took the stage at Don Hill's, accompanied by a gang of New York's hottest burlesque stars. It was exactly as awesome as that sounds like it would be. That show was always intended to be the first of a series, and tonight, at Fontana's, it finally comes roaring back to life. The FakeC/DC show is not to be missed, seriously; what the hell else are you doing on a Tuesday night?

No such list is complete without Gilligan's Planet.

From my new favorite time waster, a pretty great list. Worth checking out just to hear the Rubik theme music, which has haunted my dreams on and off since I was about seven.

Thanks Santa, now I can collect blood samples from that robbery homicide!

On What's My Line? last week, two of our contestants, coincidentally, both worked for the NYC Medical Examiners Office! One was a forensic scientist who worked in the Criminal DNA Lab, and the other was an Autopsy Photographer. Both were charming and challenging contestants and both professed an utter hatred for the TV show CSI--topped only by their loathing of Crossing Jordan.

Having these ladies on the show reminded me of something I'd seen in the Toys 'R' Us (if only I could type that backwards "R") holiday catalog that came in the Sunday Times, oh, the week before Halloween. Included in its pages: CSI toys! Seriously? Is it really appropriate to sell a ten year old the CSI DNA Lab playset? Or the Forensic Entomology Kit, Fingerprinting Kit, Facial Reconstruction set or, sweet Jesus, the Field Kit. That one includes its own crime scene tape so you can run out to the backyard and cordon off your own pretend-kidnapping-mutilation scene, and a blacklight and goggles so your kids can have hours of fun checking for post-mortem semen residue. Take your little sister with you, Bobby, she can take insect samples to test for time of death based on decomposition!

The shadow of the Voice

Picked up the Village Voice this morning on my way to the train, which I hardly ever do except on the weeks when I'm checking to see if we're in the listings section. Riding to work I read their obituary of Norman Mailer. I've said it before, but this has really been the year when that generation of quintessential 20th Century New Yorkers is disappearing! Mailer ran a semi-serious campaign for Mayor in the '60s, on the platform that NYC should secede from the Union. His suggestion on what to call the rest of the state after New York City gets to keep the name? "Buffalo.".

Anyway, I freely admit that I didn't know he'd co-founded the Voice over 50 years ago. He put up the money and came up with the name. Reading some excerpts of his punchy prose from the column he wrote for the paper, about the Village's culture explosion in the late '50s, it reminded me of why I don't read the Voice now. Especially since the paper was scooped up by a national alterna-weekly comglomerate publisher, it's become a pale and flaccid version of its former self. The writing has become noticeably weaker, the stories more tabloidy, less local (except for Michael Musto's column, still worth reading) and certainly not required reading, by any means. Which is a shame, since the Voice is the model on which every City's alternative weekly was modeled.

Wednesday night double-header, for lovers of game shows and married couple acting inappropriately on stage.

Wednesday night at 8:00 is the November installment of What's My Line? Live in NYC! It's going to be a fun one, and returning to the guest panelist spot for the first time since spring is our original fourth panelist, Lindsay Robertson! And THEN, after our show at the Parkside Lounge, you can head straight down Houston Street, hang a left at Katz's Deli, hang a right one block down and go right in the Slipper Room, where Clams and I, together with panelist Jonny Porkpie, will be joining his wife Nasty Canasta and a bunch of our other favorite people for Couples Therapy: a night of married couple burlesque duets! It's going to be a lot of fun! And if you're already out for a game show, why not make a night of it? See above for details, my favorite flyer ever (click to enlarge).

Bringin' it to the Beltway

We're kicking off a very busy December in style, by bringing Bump 'n' Grindhouse to Washington DC! Specifically: Saturday, December 1st at midnight, Bump 'n' Grindhouse makes its out-of-town debut onstage at the Arlington Cinema 'n' Drafthouse. We're very excited, it's gonna be a lot of fun, and if you're in the DC metro area that night...you know what to do.

Didn't he used to be funny?

In this breakdown of the most viciously synergistic, mind-blowingly irritating movie marketing onslaught OF ALL TIME (until Shrek 4 comes out), the Best Week Ever blog doesn't even touch on the simultaneous campaign for his wife's cookbook, that she stole half of from another woman's cookbook that came out last year, about how she punks our kids into eating vegetables pureed in their brownies, which teaches them nothing except that their parents are kind of assholes. That was my favorite part of the whole thing!