There's something about stepping inside Mario's Double Daughter's on a Sunday night that takes you to a completely different dimension. Dimly lit with subtle red and blue lights, the place is outfitted with chairs that look like they're made out of lipstick. As down-tempo grooves pour out of the speakers, a Japanese flick -- could be the one where some guy gets shot in the shoulder by a mini-rocket launcher and then rips the appendage off altogether -- is being projected on the club's big screen. The film's audio is turned off, but the subtitles are on -- and so are DJs Curu, Eyeam and crew, who are spinning what they call "psycho-tonal extrapolations with mad vibrations for your crazy heads and asses." Add to that a few Alien Blood Martinis and dollar slices from the adjoining Two-Fisted Mario's Pizza, and what you have is an out-of-body experience.