A smart, sharp, beautiful, successful friend asked me where she could entertain her out-of-towners. Not knowing anything about these tourists I sent her a list of the A-List places. This list included joints as diverse as The Darby, Avenue, Provocateur, Electric Room, Le Bain, Le Baron, and W.i.P. There are of course many other choices and places closer to the edge but as I said they are strangers in a strange land and these felt safe to recommend. After describing each place in a couple of sentences they opted for W.i.P. W.i.P. is satisfying the needs of a downtown art/fashion/mixed crowd that had been forsaken for so long. Their Tuesday night soiree' Dropout continues to service the Post Jackie 60 scene. Tomorrow night in honor of Fashion Week they are offering up the amazing Debbie Harry. I caught up with Dropout honcho and man-about-town Lyle Derek and asked him all about it.

Despite my big hoopla Tuesday night at Avenue, today/tonight is my real birthday. It is very common in clubland to celebrate your special day on another day. I remember, back in the day, every time a Quentin Crisp or another not-so-rich celebrity needed $500, we would throw them a birthday party and give them the loot and a phony club dinner. Sometimes six months separated the event and the reality. A rival club honcho asked me why I did my bash at Avenue and I referred to yesterday's article and told them that "they asked." It was wonderful.

My birthday bash at Avenue last night proved to be more fun than a barrel of monkeys. I am limp and drained and wonderful. I feel like a million yen.  Avenue asked me to throw my party there and I couldn't say no. The good people at Avenue/ Tao Strategic Group have been work associates, friends, and family from the good old days when I was that maniacal Steve Lewis guy. They put up with me then and celebrated me yesterday... in style.

Tonight I will celebrate a zillion years of enjoying what I do for a living. I am so much a creature of the night that I just may toast to my eons with Tru Blood, warm and straight from the bottle. I am having my birthday gala at Avenue, where I have many friends... where my friends are family. I will DJ for a few minutes some songs you will Shazam and know forever. The world is still filled with amazing stuff, yet undiscovered. There are some things I am sure about, and that includes the love and respect I am honored to have from many people I will see tonight. One of my oldest and dearest is Wass Stevens, who just a few days ago was totally wrecked in a motorcycle accident. In the surgery that followed, he received four screws, two in the heel, two in the ankle, and three pins etc., etc. Somehow, he will be at the door tonight greeting my friends. I asked him Why, how, wow? and he replied, "Nothing -  not a bike wreck, broken bones, nothing - could keep me away from the honor of working your birthday. Besides, we are two of only a handful of veterans left in this biz," and that "No one else would know four decades worth of your friends and night life acquaintances." Our friendship is one built on thousands of unique nights,  with boredom never a factor. We have helped each other through trying times, and seen things in each other that few have ever suspected. He has guided me when I wasn't listening to anyone and appreciated and supported me when the world was determined to extinguish my flame. I asked Wass about his recent tumble and what else is going on. He'll - we'll -  be at Avenue tonight if you are so inclined.

A freak injury involving a work boot, an immovable object, and an unfortunate little toe has made this a slow news day. I blew off yesterday with pain pills and bandages, just mobilizing enough to DJ last night. I had a tumbly, tossy night of  medicated dreams and am coming at this late in the day. Normally, I'm up at 7am, but the painkillers convinced me my pillow was where my fortunes lie. Of course, they lied and my editor is going to hurt another toe or something.

As a manager and partner at 4AM DJs, I’m always arranging performances, events, and photo shoots around the world. Every day, the reports I get back from my DJs sound like the kinds of wild adventures that I rarely get to be a part of as a desk jockey. The people who flock to these stellar international events get to experience the end result of months of prep, but do they really know what a day in the life of a DJ is like? In this monthly column, you'll hear first-hand accounts of DJ war stories, with photos and videos from the world’s best to show for it. In this Tour Diary, you'll read about DJ DL, as he braves the wrath of Irene in the name of a good party. Yours truly, Adam Alpert.

This Saturday will find me at the Nightlife: The Art Exhibition opening at The Keeley Gallery, on Bowery. As in all things worth doing in nightlife, it starts at the reasonable hour of 10pm and goes until 2am, early enough to allow the denizens of the deep to scurry off to the action elsewhere. The exhibit is presented by Flavorpill and Roxy Cottontail, curated by Derrick B. Harden and Laura O'Reilly. Artists include Ryan Keeley, Kaitlyn Stubbs and one of my favorite peeps Stephanie Podasca. The press release describes the showing as follows

Last night I became a consumer, customer, and bottle buyer for possibly the first time. Recently, I grabbed a gig working for the marketing company promoting Beau Joie champagne; it’s pretty good stuff and I'm proud to be of service. I felt it only fair to disclose the relationship here. Last night I sashayed around town with some clients of mine and ended up at Avenue for the SKAM Artist event. I told Andrew Goldberg, who puts people at the proper tables, that I was going to purchase a bunch of bottles and when he stopped laughing at me, he made a big show and put me by Avenue honchos Noah Tepperberg and Danny A.

I was told to dress in white for Noah Tepperberg's birthday bash at Lavo last night. I normally don't do costumes but there's something about Noah that is undeniable. I complied, wearing white pants, a white shirt and matching sports jacket. Even my hush puppies had white shoelaces. Someone said if I had worn a black tie and was traveling with a little person I could easily be mistaken for Ricardo Montalban from the last season of Fantasy Island.

Tonight I will DJ at "My Favorite Party" largely because my favorite DJ, entrepreneur, restaurateur, and favorite person Paul Sevigny has asked me to. He's telling me to think outside of the box. I haven't thought inside the box since Reagan was president...and even then the box contained a pipe, some combustibles and keys to my Rickie Stickie Tickied Volkswagen Camper. These Wednesday night shindigs at Le Bain started a couple weeks ago but now they’ve added early acoustic sets.