The (Mostly) Heterosexual (Mostly) All-Dude Underwear Dance Party

One of my clearest memories of the night was entering the event. Mike Hans greeted me with a firm handshake. “Welcome to paradise, utopia, or something like that,” he said with a smile. As he pulled back the curtain, I quickly came to terms with seeing more men’s underwear then I ever needed. Xandra Love (Advice From A B*tch) gasped overly excited, mumbling 500 words a second. “Guys! Underwear!! Hot!! Tattoos!! Vodka!!” Hands over your head, slow deep breaths, girl! Xandra was filling in for Jayne Doe since she was stuck at work in New York; some nonsense about liberal conservatism and occupying Jay-Z’s neighbors house. In retrospect, I realized I was the one filling in for Jayne. They had been secretly plotting to attend the event for weeks. Devilish fiends.

As I got to the top of the stairs someone offered black nipple tape. I looked at Xandra, then back at the room, realizing they were speaking to me. “I’m good, but let’s see how the night goes,” I replied with a nod. G4P was much like Dirty Wasted; nipple tape kept things classy. “I need to, um, look around and get a drink,” said Xandra suddenly running off. I stood by an empty stage, waiting for her not so prompt return. The DJ from the recently retired Fngrbngr parties, a green haired Xavier, DJed the room from his laptop wearing only a spandex wrestling uniform that soon became only underwear.

There was a crackle in the air; a calm before the storm. I could sense an underwear battle coming. It was like a bad “walk off” scene from Zoolander, where the male models were chugging cheap beer and covered in tattoos. If my calculations were correct, there were about 15 men I could count. The other 75 or so were women, oozing with a familiar dance in their pants, topped with a ‘woooo!’ and scream attitude.

Xandra finally returned with a vodka club in one hand, and a Pabst in the other. “Oh. My. God,” she said shoving a beer into my hand staring around the room. “This is too much,” she said gigging, not realizing she spilled my beer. I chugged what was left and shook my head. What the hell have you got me into? I walked over to a guy standing by a tub of beer. He was wearing only a belly bag, a grin, and his boxers. He understood the importance of versatility and usefulness when you had no pockets. As he handed me a Pabst, I noticed dollar bills stuck in the elastic of his waistband. “I’m not sure about tipping you, man,” I said, as we both laughed. Xandra suddenly shoved me out of the way, ripping a dollar from my hand. “I’ll handle this, thank you,” she blurted out while smiling innocently at the beer guy. She carefully tucked the dollar in his waistband and gave him a pat. “Glad that’s settled,” I said with a laugh.

Mike Hans came over the loud speaker. “I threw this party to hang out with dudes…fuck it, at midnight we will count down and the ladies can start ripping their clothes off,” he announced. “Also, let’s get security up on stage,” he added. A burly, bald, bearded fellow made his way on stage. Wide eyed girls crammed around to watch. Security tugged and pulled off a fit tattooed guys clothes, tossing them aside. Screams pierced the walls of the room. Some poor bastard walking down the street was wondering what kind of orgy was going on. A few minutes later, another guy hopped on stage and had his clothes thrown aside too. Christ man, doesn’t this go against every security rule ever?! Mike Hans yelled something about Gay 4 Pay and a free drink for the bros if they kissed. A prolonged hug suddenly turned into a lip lock. I guess the rules didn’t apply, and bulge at eye level was unsettling.

Miley Cyrus, Venga Boys and Die Antwoord blared from the speakers, as a powerful energy took over the room. Hipsters, grungers, punks, teachers, scientists and scholars all united under one cause: dance. Mike Hans came back over the loud speaker. “There’s a beer tub in the back. 10 FREE Pabst Blue Ribbon Beers to the first people that tip him! Shit, free PBR, out of the way! Dollar bill coming through for that belly bag! I returned with a free beer, satisfied with my decision. “AHEM. So, if we had There’s Drinking to be Done panties, they’d be PRETTY popular right now,” said Xandra happier than ever. Women were dropping their pants and pulling off their shirts. The battle was upon us.

Three gorgeous ladies stormed the main stage, gyrating and dancing around. Other women in the audience were compelled to follow, joining the madness. “Get those filthy breeders off stage!!” Mike Hans boomed over the loud speaker with a jovial laugh. Actual gay men were thrown aloof, wondering what the hell was going on. Beards, boobs, and tattooed skin filled the room. One stage with men, the second stage with women. It was a handsome battle of the sexes, with the best Go-Go dance moves they could muster. One, two, three, four, shake your booty on the floor!

I stopped in the bathroom to clear my head. The toilet seat had been ripped off and thrown on the floor; an apparent attack on the women’s morale. I worried about an unsuspecting girl falling in. Shit, we’d need the fire department to rescue her. How would we explain it? Oh you see, we were just dancing and…she fell in…and….In all of the confusion the firemen would start to strip, the girl would be stuck forever. R.I.P. Toilet girl.

I returned to a room of chaos and calamity. At this point, all hesitation and doubt were cast aside. An erotic affliction spread like a plague. The entire bar was a flesh colored sea, splashed with tattoo ink and pink hair. Men and women meshed together dancing and grinding holding onto anything they could. Black tape was the only master in a sea of depravity. A beautiful raven haired girl in 6 inch red heels paraded passed me on stage. Jesus I finally see more tit than bulge, and it was about time. The party’s sexual tension grew to a peak, reminding me of dirty wasted. I thought about the wholesome nuns I knew, then realized they’d be making out in the corner right now at an event like this.

The bottom line:
Look up the definition of depravity, then come to one of Mike Hans events. They have the energy, excitement, and sexual tension of a teenage boy who just found his first porno. Whether it be Dirty Wasted Thursday, Gay 4 Pay or even his first Friday art show Sales Gaspillee, a Mike Hans event evokes a strange, carnal need for all things sexual. Maybe its his off beat humor, maybe it’s the cheap booze, maybe even the nipple tape. Whatever it is, you don’t want to miss it!

Photography by: Adam Burton, A.B Vear Photography.
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