Patricia Clarkson, A.M. Homes, and some other chick we don't recognize. Not a bad crowd for just another downtown party.

Perhaps inspired by Paula Abdul's alleged agent-inflicted attack at one of its recent events, the LAT ventures out to floating party Xenii (a mere seven months after the NY Times dropped by, but who's counting?) to see what all the cool kids are up to these days. For those too unfashionable to have heard of Xenii, it's an exclusive, semisecretive, members-only, Entourage-meets-Warhol's-Factory, traveling after-hours gathering where guys pay dues for the privilege of hanging around with beautiful women and celebrities without being stungunned by their bodyguards. Still not getting it? Here's a sample of what a man's $650 to $4,500 monthly membership gets him, courtesy of the Times:

• Nothing says spring like nuclear hell. Voices from Chernobyl, tonight at Housing Works UBC, commemorates the 20th anniversary of the Ukrainian disaster. [flavorpill]
• If you can't sit through the thinky Tribeca fodder, the NYC Downtown Film Festival features 50 films in a number of genres lasting from 5 to 20 minutes. Bring your Adderall and your artsy goggles. [Uncool Kids]
• Hello, I'm Special is a literary variety contest featuring boozed up talents competing for the honor of being the Most Special Person Ever. Brought to you by the special, chosen folks at Jewcy. [Ars Nova]

There's an altogether appropriate (yet still depressing) piece in the Observer today that documents the decline of New Yorkers' desire to go out, marked by a current enthusiasm over grocery stores and a palpable disdain for the hip nightlife and culture that now strikes so many as too expensive, too obnoxious, and just too damn painful. And it's true, really. Whereas once the young and well-heeled would've flocked to the hotspot du jour without question, now more and more of them stay in, wanting nothing more than to avoid the cacophonous hell of a Lohan-approved night out. Have we given up?

TMZ.com's paparazzi video of Jeremy Piven carrying an incapacitated woman on the sidewalk outside of new club Shag might look like the actor merely dropped by for some take-out, but such misunderstandings are why publicists have jobs:

• Chris Wood of Medeski, Martin, and Wood teams up with his brother Oliver at The Living Room. Jam out on patchouli-scented folk rock at 8pm. [flavorpill]
• All the way from Budapest, Specko Jedno brings its "death romance, bigoted tango, and metaphysical children songs" to Kush for a Hungarian-inspired party. Also, the band has brown hair and brown eyes — swear to God, they included that for public information. [Kush]
• Elton John does theater, and the rest of the world goes blind from all the sequins. Lestat, an adaptation of Anne Rice's vampire chronicles, opens tonight. [Paper]

• Remember Nancy Balbirer? She was the woman who told a story about her old roommate Jennifer Aniston, who believed in stuffing one's bra with chicken cutlets. Balbirer's back tonight at Mo Pitkins for SCHWAG!, her comedic performance art showcase featuring Mike Albo, Bob Morris, Cintra Wilson, et al. We don't think Aniston will be in attendance, but it doesn't hurt to hope. [Upcoming]
• A.M. Homes reads from This Book Will Save Your Life — a book that will not, coincidentally, save your life in any way. Find out what the hell she's talking about tonight at Barnes & Noble. [Paper]
• Two Gallants bring their sound of "sweet Americana" to the Bowery Ballroom. We've no clue when New Yorkers started tolerating any sort Americana, but we hear the band's good. [flavorpill]

We've now received probably a half-dozen reports of some of the celebrities spotted at the Scissor Sisters show at Bowery Ballroom last night. There was Karl Lagerfeld, looking characteristically Lagerfeldian. There was Kylie Minogue, who, it seems, "looked adorable with her short hair" and was "waving her hands in the air like she just didn't care." There was Richie Rich. There was Amanda Lapore. There may have been Ingrid Sischy. And there was one more celeb many of you have told us about, standing solo near the back of the dancefloor, looking incognito in a grey college sweatshirt — Arizona State, of all places — and baseball cap, and barely head-bopping to the music: Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Anderson Cooper.

Friday:
• Somersault, opening today at Sunshine Cinemas, "delves into the inner workings of a 'slut.'" We'll give you a preview: insecurity and cheap booze. [flavorpill]
• Radiohole presents Fluke, an ocean-themed production from the avant-garde theatre troupe known for its "irreverance and exposed genetalia." Play doctor with them tonight at PS 122. [Paper]

Put on your shredded leggings and perfect your party pose, because it's time for the Sparks-fueled joy and hipster-lovin' magic of Blue States Lose. Per usual, we sort pictures of young people shaming their generation on The Cobrasnake, Last Night's Party, Misshapes and Ambrel so you don't have to. After the jump, Joey Arak shows you the path to post-punk redemption.

• Subtle "shatters conventional notions of hip-hop" for a group of people who, we're guessing, have aboslutely no idea what "conventional notions of hip-hop" are. Watch the confusion tonight at the Knitting Factory. [flavorpill]
• Not only is Cyndi Lauper still alive, but she's hitting Broadway. Watch Hell freeze over at the opening night of The Threepenny Opera. [Paper]
• Meet the mystery men behind your favorite commercials at Voices Behind the Scene: The Art of the Voice Over. 10 bucks says they're all under 5'10" — there's something about big voices and little men. [Upcoming]

As anyone who's spent an evening carefully smearing their eyeliner will tell you, life after Misshapes is rough. When the Gang of Four stops and the lights come up, all you're left with is a profound emptiness (and nausea). And so it goes for the original home of Misshapes, Luke and Leroy's, a venue that's been empty-nesting ever since the Saturday night alt-hell dance party outgrew its home and moved to Don Hill's. Not yet qualified for historical protection, the bar is up for sale. A tragedy, we say — and it must be stopped!

From the MySpace event listing featuring the above invite:

• The Fiery Furnaces bring their "sissy, psychedelic Satanism" to Bowery Ballroom tonight. The normal, blow-induced Satanism returns tomorrow. [flavorpill]
• Circuit benders flock from the four corners of the earth to Bent 2006. For those of you who have no fucking idea what circuit bending is, there are workshops and lessons and, um, concerts. We figured if we mentioned this odd event, maybe one of you would build us a robot. [Bent Festival]
• The Times' lovable Kristof headlines at an Amnesty International panel on Darfur. Sadly, not even his shiny new Pulitzer can distract us from Suri, which sounds enough like an African nation to keep our guilt to a minimum. [Upcoming]

• After her baby Sean was effectively dropped on his head, Britney Spears looks to sue the makers of the high chair the child had been in. If only she could sue the makers of retarded white trash, too. Then all her problems would be accounted for. [Scoop]
• Oh, yeah — Brooke Shields also had her baby yesterday. Just to spite Tom Cruise, Baby Grier (that's a girl's name, apparently) is already on antidepressants. [R&M (2nd item)]
• Spikey-haired producer Brian Grazer has filed for legal separation from his wife Gigi — but not divorce. Pussy too scared to take it all the way? [TMZ]
• An elevator at the Gansevoort hotel was overcrowded, causing a free-fall that stopped between the fourth and fifth floors and forced everyone to pry their way out. That's what happens when you have 18 drunken Eurotrashers in a confined space. [Page Six]
• Eminem is devasted after the death of his friend, D-12 rapper Proof. The death should be an uplifting occasion — now Proof has street cred in heaven. Meanwhile, his ex-wife has taken to emailing Star magazine. No wonder he's suicidal. [Gatecrasher]
• Angelina Jolie, lesbian sex, exotic dancers, heroin, death — just another day in 1995. [Page Six]

Ever since the demise of Battle of the Network Stars, you've assumed you won't have a chance to watch dozens of sitcom personalities hanging out together. We thought the same. Until last night, when the cute boy with whom we saw The Threepenny Opera (verdict: meh) brought us for a post-theatrical drink to a little spot called Bar Centrale, upstairs from Joe Allen on Restaurant Row.

• Everyone's favorite Vogue-bot Plum Sykes emerges from her fur-lined oxygen chamber tonight to read from her latest, The Debutante Divorc e. Will you love to hate it as much as you did Bergdorf Blondes? We can only hope. [Paper]
• Blogger-types don real pants and brave the public eye tonight for the WYSIWYG Talent Show. At least, we hope they don pants. [WYSIWYG]
• The Martha Graham Dance Company celebrates its 80th birthday with a week of performances about town. How a modern dance company lasted 80 years, we'll never know — but we sure do love the final number in Center Stage. [flavorpill]

The NY Times' Sharon Waxman traveled deep into Amanda Scheer Demme's Fortress of Velvet Rope Solitude (tragically located in unfashionable Studio City) in an attempt to sort out why the temporarily clubless nightlife queen-in-exile was cast out of the celebrity-fellating Eden she so lovingly created at the Roosevelt Hotel, and to learn a little about the woman behind the clipboard-wielding legend:

• Pissed-off poets take over Galapagos to bitch and whine for the New York Progressive Reading Series. Nothing says political action like a springtime sonnet. [flavorpill]
• The hills are alive, and so are the Von Trapp Family Singers. The fourth generation of The Sound of Music offspring perform a variety of songs, including Do-Re-Mi, tonight. Don't pretend like you're not excited. [Paper]
• The earnest kids over at Gothamist make another bid for your love with their seventh Movable Hype show, featuring Stars of Track & Field, Land of Talk, and Cloud Cult. Gothamist thinks these bands are good and that music is good, too. [Gothamist]