Whenever there's a holiday, there's a Motherfucker party — wherein all the hip kids and their tranny friends join together in sweaty, squalid bliss. This Sunday night was no exception, and Gawker staff shutterbug Nikola Tamindzic was proudly in attendance, catching all the good vice he could. His images are below in our nifty, new gallery; click on each thumbnail to enlarge. Not necessarily safe for work, mind you.

• LVHRD (pronounced "Live Hard"), a "a group of semi-exclusive hipster/prankster/partythrowers" hosts MCFGHT: Karaoke Showdown, to be judged by drag queens and karaoke kings. Vowels, apparently, will not be admitted. [flavorpill]
• Comedian-about-town Jonathan Ames teams up with Moby for the aptly named Jonathan Ames and Moby Variety Show. Ames's usual cast of characters and lepers join in the fun at Ars Nova. [JonathamAmes.com]
• Makor screens a sneak preview of Garrison Keillor's A Prairie Home Companion. Go for the Lindsay, stay for the Meryl. (Who are we kidding? Stay for the Lindsay.) [Paper]

Friday:
• St. Ann's Puppet Labratory brings not one, but two nights of puppetry and glory to NYC on this long weekend. Tonight's puppets grapple with surbubia; tomorrow, FoodTV. Next week, the world. [Stann's Warehouse]
• Soul Position hits the Bowery Ballroom with RJD2. Maybe, after two years, you can finally get that damn Ghostwriter song out of your head. [Prefix]

There's only one thing you hate more than being chained to your computer on the world's longest Friday, and that's dumbfuck hipsters posing like they're Gia incarnate. Lucky for you, it's time for Blue States Lose, wherein we drag our feet through photos of the fucked-up and fabulous children of The Cobrasnake, Last Night’s Party, Misshapes, and Ambrel so you won't have to. After the jump, Joey Arak makes the Star Room look downright attractive.

No arc in the smash hit youth drama Greasy Heirs has captivated audiences more than the Shitfaced Brandon Davis Firecrotch Diatribe A-plot, in which our moist, husky hero learns an important life lesson regarding the dangers of being too forthcoming with one's distaste for carrotbottomed girls. In today's heartwarming, road-to-resolution episode, Davis apologizes to besmirched-landing-strip victim Lindsay Lohan:

Paula Froelich looks to Bridget Harrison for her daily dose of calcium.

• First the beard, now a lefty documentary: watch Al Gore continue morphing into a green Michael Moore tonight at Town Hall. Laurie David and Catherine Keener, among others, join the panel tonight at 8. [Ticketmaster]
• Steve Coleman and the Five Elements play at the Jazz Gallery. Start off the long weekend all classy (since it won't stay that way). [flavorpill]
• A Place to Bury Strangers hit Northsix, where you can assuage the pain of omnipresent Idol crap far, far away from the world of Paula Abdul. [Prefix]

After yesterday's news of a bouncer who pulled a gun on patrons, killing one and wounding three others, bouncer-blogger Rob from Clublife is, once again, on the top of lazy journalists' Google searches. As a response, he tells us, to the 20-something media calls he received yesterday, Rob has issued his thorough explanation of how some bouncers become murderers:

A weird little sidenote to the Axl Rose/Tommy Hilfiger beat down on Thursday night: the photo of the two fighting on the cover of the Saturday Post is credited to DMI, an "independent" photo agency owned by MediaVast, which also owns WireImage. Writes a reader in the know:

• Beyond the fact that Cool Culture opens museums and zoos to thousands of disadavantaged families, its benefit tonight is hosted by chic types. Do it for the children. And the scene. [Cool Culture]
• The Dave Hill Explosion hits UCB, featuring beloved SNL freak Fred Armisen, musician Walter Schreifels, and dear Malcom Gladwell. Don't miss the chance to see his hair live. [Dave Hill]
• What would a French film be without an existential crisis? Neither French nor hip. Luckily, La Moustache meets the requirement and adds some bonus facial hair, just to bring it home. [flavorpill]

TMZ.com's unquestioned dominance of the sidewalks outside of various Hollywood drinking establishments has finally yielded new footage advancing the storyline of the Shitfaced Brandon Davis Firecrotch Diatribe affair, as the website's egress-haunting videographers caught Lindsay Lohan at Shag the other night, shouting, "Did you see the video?" as she exited the new club. Lohan wisely refrained from answering in the affirmative or rebutting Davis's earlier, drunken denoucement of her shockingly meager $7 million personal worth as she fled for the safety of her automobile, where, thankfully, no TMZ camera crew was waiting to ask her, "But what about the firecrotch, Lindsay? Are you red down there?" a query they are no doubt saving for their next encounter in front of Privilege later this week.

Gunfire broke out at West Chelsea stripey den Opus 22 last night, resulting in one dead and three wounded. The culprit? The bouncer, of course. You know, the dude that's there for safety and crowd control [insert obligatory Darryl Littlejohn shout-out]. The victims were at a private open-mic party at the club and were asked to leave to make way for another event. They were allowed to reenter the club but had to pay a $20 entrance fee; the intoxicated patrons refused:

• Snap Judgements focuses on new positions in contemporary African photography — and thank God it does, because those old positions? Those were just unreal. [flavorpill]
• What's left of Alice in Chains performs tonight at the Bowery Ballroom. Pay respects, tip a 40, bring a man in the box. [Upcoming]
• Not riding on the grunge nostalgia train? Singer-songwriter Josephine Foster performs tonight as a part of FOLK. [Prefix]

• After serving five days in jail rather than do community service for drunk driving in Honolulu, Michelle Rodriguez has been sentenced to 60 days for violating parole on a previous drunk driving incident in LA. She's also been ordered to rehab and must serve 30 days of community service. Clearly, the law is no fan of the way things have been going on Lost. [TMZ]
• Bad news for Brooklyn: Michelle Williams' father, Larry Williams, is in jail on tax evasion charges and stands accused of hiding $1.5 million from Uncle Sam. Which is exactly how he became a financial guru. [Page Six]
• Paris Hilton plays an angry voicemail from Lindsay Lohan for a group of friends, then calls her a cunt." We believe the correct term is firecrotch. [R&M (last item)]
• The ballad of Axl and Tommy continues: while the official line is that Hilfiger punched Axl Rose after Rose moved his drink (presumably so that Rose could take his table), Hilfiger's rage may be heightened by the fact that Rose is dating Diane O'Connor, the ex-wife of Hilfiger's adopted brother, Michael H. [Page Six]
• Namibians want to declare a national holiday on the day that Angelina Jolie gives birth. [MSNBC]
• Socialite Tory Burch's clothing line isn't selling, despite an Oprah endorsement in 2004. Will O save face by frying Burch on an upcoming episode? [Lowdown]

• The cameras of TMZ.com never rest: last week they caught Brandon Davis waxing philosophical on the nature of Lindsay Lohan's crotch, this week they document the LA nightlife backlash as a woman screams at him to take a shower and derides him for getting his money "from daddy." As if that's an insult? [TMZ]
• Former New Jersey governor and proud 'mo Jim McGreevy reads excerpts from his new book, an erotic tale of his anonymous rest stop hookups. [Star-Ledger]
• Quote of the day, courtesy of Ghostface Killa: "New York be bullshitting. Right now, I say fuck New York. Yeah, I'm from New York, but fuck New York. Because niggas is pussy." [Prefix]
• In live theater, distracting the actors just might get you backstage, where you can confuse David Schwimmer and piss off Zeljko Ivanek. [BroadwayWorld]
• Life imitates art, at least if you're a Sopranos fan: the body of a man who'd been beaten to death was found behind the Cafe Bada Bing. [NYT]
• As Memorial Day weekend draws near, the four horsemen of the Hamptons apocalypse prepare to open their doors to thousands of devoted Wet Seal fans. [NYM]
• A bird flu awareness night in Newark is marked by a chicken wing eating contest. In Jersey, the jokes just write themselves. [Newark Bears]

• Literary Death Match III brings writers from your favorite elitist literary reviews together for a read-off. The reader who earns the most tears and/or laughs win, unless someone draws blood — obviously, blood is the literary trump card. [flavorpill]
• The Sunset Rubdown show sold out, but we swore we would never pay for that sort of thing anyway. Trading favors on Craigslist, however, is not out of the question. [Prefix]
• Meatpacking District Design Week 2006: because beautiful Eurotrash and their rooftop pools don't do enough self-congratulating. [WUNY]

After the Post mysteriously removed Friday's Page Six item about a brawl between Axl Rose and Tommy Hilfiger from all later editions of Friday's paper, we feared that we'd all be denied coverage of such an important spectacle. Now it seems that Post wasn't covering up the news but, rather, just rescheduling it so that it could move some sluggish weekend copy. The pulled item was saved for the Saturday paper, so that it could be used as a splashy cover story, thick with reporting:

From our gilded mailbag:

Friday:
• In the time it takes most people to tie their shoes, Prep author Curtis Sittenfeld wrote a new book. Hear her read from The Man of My Dreams tonight at the Barnes & Noble on Astor Place, 7 PM.
• The Go-Gos play Nokia Theatre; you'll dance and try not to cry at how the years have treated Belinda. [Prefix]

It's not a coincidence that the clouds above Manhattan just parted, because it's time for Blue States Lose. You know the routine: we don safety goggles and sift through photos of the fucked-up hipsters at The Cobrasnake, Last Night’s Party, Misshapes, and Ambrel so you won't have to. After the jump, Joey Arak lets Merlin take pictures of his new boy-cut panties.