The Comedy Central bowlers stopped by to collect the coveted NYAMBL Bowling Pin on their way to pimp out the team yacht.

• People Under the Stairs take over S.O.B.'s for some hip-hop and dust bunnies. Maybe a lost sock or two — we don't really know what hides under there. [flavorpill]
• In the enviable position of having a debut novel that everyone liked, Ben Kunkel reads from Indecision tonight at 192 Books. Go and fawn, but remember: had a woman written that book, it would've been chick lit. [Paper]
• London Calling, a Clash tribute band, hops across the pond for the 25th anniversary of the real band's NY invasion. Don your fake vintage t-shirt and join in on the historical hipster fun. [WUNY]

A nice alternative to the Maxim party.
The Falls is still twitching: at 11 PM last night, the doors and windows were open, music was playing, and unless we missed the AA meeting in the back, it looked as if alcohol was being served.

Rush & Molloy report today that male socialite and Advice Diva Fabian Basabe has committed the ultimate sin: complaining about Bungalow 8 doorman Armin Amiri. Basabe has told police that during an argument over how many friends he could bring in, Amiri punched him, resulting in a third-degree assault charge. Amy Sacco, Bungalow's grand dame, denies the charge, insisting Amiri would never hit a lady.

• Cameron Jaime makes silent films about suburbia gone wrong (as if it were ever right). Tonight at Symphony Space, the Melvins and Kenji Haino provide a live soundtrack, making the dysfunction all the merrier. [flavorpill]
• Not quite as exciting as John Cusack and a boom box, the band Say Anything performs at Bowery Ballroom. Go and scream "In Your Eyes" between songs; we bet that never happens. [Prefix]
• Russell Crowe takes some time out from his busy schedule of throwing phones to play with his new-ish band The Ordinary Fear of God. Also, Art Brut is playing — you know, if you like real music. [Paper]

The "hyper-exclusive club" where Sergey Brin tried to get laid is Xenii (Slick site! Fancy guests!), according to a reader who was just there a few days ago.

Bad news for the Falls, the bar where Imette St. Guillen was last seen before her murder and where her suspected killer, Darryl Littlejohn, was employed:

Television upfronts and the celebrities enslaved to them continue to dominate Manhattan this week — we've yet to hear anything about young flacks passing out and shitting themselves, but 20th Century Fox is hosting its party tonight, so there's still a chance. The Times' Virginia Heffernan is live-blogging the networks' end of it (wherein the Heffer discovers that Ellen Pompeo has been denying herself bread crumbs), but she's certainly not going to tell us about any new instances of poopy pants. So if you see something, say something.

• As a celebration of The Revolution Will Be Accessorized, a new BlackBook anthology, Meghan Daum and Dirk Wittenborn debate which city is more bourgeois: Los Angeles or New York. Bring your foam fingers revel in the hometown advantage. McNally Robinson Books, 50 Prince Street, 7 PM.
⁊ His Name is Alive hits the Mercury Lounge before embarking on a national tour with Youth Group. Let that little light of thine to shine tonight at 8. [flavorpill]
•Put your week's worth of stubble to use at the NYC Beard and Mustache Championships. Extra points if you can actually find enough scraps in your beard to make yourself dinner. [Paper]

Is there anything Brett Ratner can't do? Despite being relatively un-special, the man can direct movies, sleep with tennis stars, pull a gun on producers, command the attenion of the ever-elusive Lindsay Lohan, and wear a tracksuit whenever he damn well pleases. Now, add to that impressive list Ratner's latest accomplishment: tonight he unveils Portraits by Brett Ratner, a stunning exhibition of the artist's talent for taking his Elph to various after-parties.

• Put on your concerned caps and head to Galapagos for the second New York Progressive Reading Series. Williamsburg can drop the irony if it's for the left. [flavorpill]
• Axl Rose still believes he qualifies as Guns n' Roses, despite the lack of Slash. Decide for yourself tonight at Hammerstein. [NYCT]
• Mexican Tap Water brings their show to the Peoples Improv Theater. Pop some Immodium before you go. [Upcoming]

Friday:
• Savalas in Williamsburg hosts The Babymaker, an unfortunately-titled recreation of a high school dance. Recreation for some, wishful thinking for others. 285 Bedford Ave, 11 pm.
• Sundance comes to New York as BAM hosts a sampling of the festival's films. Go, but only after you've seen Just My Luck at least three times. [flavorpill]

It's time to feed the sweaty hipster drones with what they love best: unflattering photos of themselves. Yes, it's your weekly dose of Blue States Lose, wherein we look at the eye-bleeding photo galleries at The Cobrasnake, Last Night’s Party, Misshapes, and Ambrel so you won't have to. After the jump, Joey Arak shows off his shiny new badge from the Fashion Police.

Click to enlarge.

• Here and Queer essayist Edmund White gives a reading tonight from My Lives: An Autobiography. Get there in time to hear him talk about his mother — that's guaranteed entertainment. [flavorpill]
• The L magazine celebrates its third birthday tonight at Fontana's. Free beer from 9-10 PM. Did we mention free beer? [WUNY]
• Nothing is better than a ninja. Tonight, Northsix hosts the Chinese Stars, a band whose name is clearly ninja-related and therefore should be worth the trip. [Paper]

• The Film Forum hosts "Cartoons: No Laughing Matter," a film festival discussing the growing consequence of the medium. Thanks, but Denmark could have used the memo a couple months sooner. [flavorpill]
• Jane Fonda discusses her new book, My Life So Far. Be that person who asks about working with Lindsay Lohan tonight at 6:30. [WUNYC]
• Four band members to every groupie: West-coast imports Irving take the stage with Group Sounds, Beirut, and Boulevard at the Knitting Factory. [Upcoming]
• If you're feeling particularly adventurous, venture up to Makor, where journalist Peter Hyman hosts a panel of fools to ruminate on the celebrity media clusterfuck. Deep thoughts guaranteed. [92Y]

• Dr. Katz is resurrected tonight at the Gotham Comedy Club, as Jonathan Katz gives us a live version of the late, squiggly therapist. In real life, we hear he's three-dimensional. [Gotham]
• Al Franken takes a break from talking on the radio to instead talk at the 92nd St Y. We hear that his unreasonably large glasses flash lights and shoot lasers. It's the little things that make his appearances worth it. [92Y]
• What's better than drunken Paula Abdul on Idol? Not much, but Chicago at Radio City Music Hall might do it. Also, you need to stop watching Idol anyhow. [Paper]

There is no more important training for a young journalist than a lesson in how to hold your liquor. And there is no better way to learn to hold your liquor than at an open bar you can't get from. Hence the annual Columbia J-School booze cruise, at which this year — this is our favorite part — it seems the cocktailing will begin at 4 p.m. Of course, while an open bar would be ideal, the j-school currently charges its students a mere $38,500 in tuition and fees, and so it can afford only a cash bar. And, even better, a "cash food bar" — unless students shell out six bucks for the buffet, they're stuck with only "chips and salsa, and crudite with herbed dipping sauce." Dress is "reporter semi-formal," which seems easy enough until you remember how reporters dress, and the full email announcement is after the jump.

• In the grand tradition of ABBA and Ace of Base, Scandanavian imports the Concretes bring their "shimmery" pop to Bowery Ballroom. Think Mamma Mia, but tolerable. [flavorpill]
• Patriot Acts celebrates the grand tradition of bitching about America while raising money for a good cause. Bring your stars, your stripes, and your whine to the Civilians Benefit tonight at NYU's Skirball Center. [The Civilians]
• The Other Talent Show showcases the skills of Manhattan's finest semi-unemployed comedians. Expect a lot of tubas, tap dancing, and other attempts at overcompensation. [Paper]

One of our tipsters found a tip sheet for last night's Rolling Stone party, distributed to the press by publicists and left behind by a reporter who'd checked off which of the promised celebrities actually showed. No Keyes, no Death Cab, no Jay-Z, no L.A. Reid, no Lohan, no Tom Wolfe. But, hey, how could anyone complain? David Cassidy was there.