This isn't a "High Life only" party. Or a "you-only-get-grape-vodka-mixed-with-sugar-syrup-for-20-minutes" party. This is the best weekly party in the city. Get on it.

I once fooled around with a sailor named Jerry. Sure, he had mild scurvy, but the guy had been at sea for a few months and needed a night to remember. I blew the wind out of his mast and haven't look back since.

RSVP to rsvp@venuszine.com.

My dad knows someone with the surname Schnorff. A friend dated a guy named Barnaby. Tonight, be on the lookout for promoter Alfie Myserskop -- and be thankful your family turned into the Johnsons at Ellis Island.

RSVP to doinitdoinitproductions@gmail.com. 

Remember when the Dave Matthews Band bus driver unloaded the bus toilet while driving over a Chicago River bridge onto a boat passing underneath? I'm just saying, drink as much as you want, but heads up (or down) by the bridges.

Fucking Dave Matthews, always dumping his shit on us and expecting us to like it.