Team Party Crash: Motherf*cker's Memorial Day
From left, Motherfucker promoters Georgie Seville, Justine D., Johnny T., and Michael T. Secretly, the latter three hate Georgie for having a last name.After five years of consistently ensuring that every holiday you have off from work is spent with a hangover, the Motherfucker gang threw their anniversary party on Sunday night at the cavernous Roxy. With a rock and roll-circus theme and more clowns than anyone should be comfortable with, photographer Nikola Tamindzic braved the sex and the sweat to document the fray. (Photos debatably NSFW.)
Nikola's entire gallery from the event is available here.
If anyone knows how, precisely, to grow an ass like this, please advise.
Minutes after Whitesnake took the stage, tragedy struck.
Motherfucker's Justine D. surveys the damage she hath wrought.
While waiting in line for the restroom, Bernard realized that he had left his lucky rabbit's foot at home. Now he'd never get that first kiss!
After this photo was taken, she put her t-shirt back on and went straight to church.
This clown is crying on the inside. And a little on the outside.
God, what's your problem? Not everyone can wipe it by themselves, okay? Just, like, lay off...
"One trip to Switzerland and $10000 later, and look at me now!"
Misshapes' Leigh Lezark is on her way to a fitting for some new vagina shirts.
And you said chivalry was dead.
Make-up by Robert Smith for Dior.
If you concentrate hard enough, you might finally realize where the hell you are.
It's not cotton candy. That's all we're sayin'.
Drag queens, popcorn — are you not entertained?!
Greg K. of Misshapes tries to remember his own party from the night before.
It's time for the obligatory and gratuitous nipple shot. Take what you can get, pervs.
If we have to have nightmares, so do you.
Raoul loved Pottery Barn, but Phil believed that Crate & Barrel was better suited for their summer home.
And to think, all these years you've been carelessly throwing away your drink umbrellas.
"Don't get upset, Sally, I'm just showing you the hot new dance move."
No pants, no caption.
More class than you can shake a fluid-drenched stick at!
You're too busy being dominated to realize that behind that whip, there's a very tired lady.
After spending most of her evening educating fellow party-goers about AIDS in Africa, she gave up at four AM and fell, sobbing, to the ground.
Quarterslot lead singer Heidi hates our photographer, loves America.
Amanda Lepore, whether you want her or not.
"Welcome to the Onyx Hotel!!!"
They didn't have the heart to tell Brad that his children would never have the milk he so longed to give.
Time for our favorite game: dead or k-hole?
Fleet Week isn't just limited to Christopher Street.
Is that an eight ball in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?
It's a European thing. Quit judging, you nasty cultural relativist.
Motherfucker's Michael T. thanks Amanda Lepore for the laughter and, more importantly, the tears.
