James DeWille’s guide to nightlife was so awesome that it broke Bwog yesterday. Regardless, we’re going to repost it – happy clubbing.

So you`ve arrived to Columbia fresh from Michigan, Delaware, or wherever your shiny new fake I.D. tells you, and you`re ready to take on the town.  Here´s a week`s worth of the best (and the not-so-best-that-you-should- still-probably-make-an-appearance-at) parties.  Basically, just be sure to skip Meatpacking´s over-hyped, over-priced, and well, over scene and get to know your dear friend, the 2nd Ave F, your two-dollar ticket to the Lower East Side.  Who´s got time for Homer when you need to claw, gnaw, drink and dance your way downtown, past the rope, and in the club?  Before you know it, you´ll be splattered across the internet, cheek kissing entire roomfuls of pretty Brooklynites, and sucking down free drank.  Good God.  Good luck.

Monday

M @ Darkroom: Finally! You can get wasted on a Monday and the utter darkness will prevent anyone from judging. Come 11-12 for free PBR and climb around the outdoor wall and staircase before dancing the night away in the dark. 2/3 of the Ruff Kids keep the beats heavy.

Take: the strong. Only the nastiest go out on Monday’s.

Leave: responsibility, again, you are going out on a Monday…

Tuesday

66Sick @ Happy Ending: This party has made Tuesdays one of the best nights of the week. It’s like Cheers, where everybody knows your name. The night gets blurry and the dancing gets wild on the lower level. Swarms of party photographers immortalize your every drunken misstep. It’s debauchery at its most distilled. If you’re lucky, Feng Feng (one of the three, cutely coordinating Asian girls hosting the shindig) will feed you champagne from the bottle. Eh, www.thenightlight.net may clear a few things up.

Take: pretty girls, pretty boys.

Leave: dignity. 

Wednesday

High Voltage @ Sutra: So Sutra may be a dingy little place, but our hostess, Jason, is such a sweetheart you can’t help but show up and shake it sometimes. Hey, it’s better than Beauty Bar, alright?

Take: Semi-legit ID. Recent visits from the po po may make your p.o.s. ID a no no.

Leave: Don’t hold back. Hump day. 

Thursday

Hmm, if you find something worthwhile, let me know. Thursdays are pretty dry. You can try sneaking into Hiro through the hotel if you’re not on the RSVP list (actually, don’t. It’s not that fun unless there’s a concert or a friend with a booth and bottle service). You could always try Lit, some friends and I once saw Nick Zinner at this dirty little East Village basement and there’s usually some free PBR, 12-12:30.  If you keep hitting dead ends, head to a bar like cozy & subterranean Home Sweet Home or speakeasy-esque Royal Oak (you´ll have to trek to Billyburg for that one) and curl up with your bitter self.

Take: hope, always.

Leave: soon.

Friday

Ruff Club @ Annex: The main floor is home to bands, DJs and the lovely Sophia Lamar. The upstairs keeps booths and bottles filled (you’ll need the additional “VIP” stamp to get up there, kid). And the infamous basement remains a writhing, smoky mess of kiddies, despite the exodus of the Ruff Kids. A recent invasion of popped collars and girls catching the PATH a few hours later is alarming, but the hugging hordes outside prove that some good people still make it out (or make out?), and Friday nights in the LES are not a total sham.

Take: Cigarettes. American Apparel.

Leave: with new friends. 

Seventeen @ Revolver: Remember those boys who made dick and fart jokes in elementary school? The ones who gave girls wedgies and made fun or their training bras? The ones you swore they’d still be playing video games in their parents’ basement at twenty-five? Well, they’re DJs now. The Ruff Kids have their very own Friday party now at brand-new Revolver. And they drive vespas, cool. You’ll probably stumble here from Ruff Club or vice versa.

Take: cute girl to feed Ruff boys.

Leave: without her. Gotta pay the toll. 

Trash @ Rififi: Ugh. The people move in the back room, but the air usually doesn’t. This and the fact that most people there think Rififi (on 11th) is “uptown” makes the whole thing a bit frustrating.

Take: Just make to show up appropriately Trashed, if you must.

Leave: Clothing? 

Saturday

Misshapes @ Don Hill’s: If it’s not gone by the time you read this Misshames is defiantly wasting away faster than a the anorexic 15-year old girl/boy who’s been feverishly checking the website to see if they’ve made the wall. The party stays mainly outside, so people can eat ice cream and bitch about how lame it is. Sound fun, right? Okay, cue the sound of camera shutters and utter confusion about multiple levels of irony.

Take: coke-head death stares.

Leave: cred. Carman party invites. 

Sunday

Morissey night @ Sway: Not exactly danceable, but the Lord’s Day at this Morrocan-themed place is pretty damn chill. It´s nice to get out of the LES a bit, even if you´re doing so with a lot of the same people.  In any case, Smiths and the stench of weed allow you to recover discreetly and still be out and about. Ready for next week?

Bring: Bud. Your Sunday….best?

Leave: Lit Hum reading. Desire to cleanse sins.