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My good friend and fellow Nerve co-worker Ross Martin (and his wife,
Jordana) decided (in the face of anthrax) to pack it all up and leave
Manhattan for the (relative) saftey of Bronxville, NY. Being the good
friends that we are, Grant, Jock and myself agreed to donate our Sunday
to helping pack up all his stuff and move him "upstate." Grant
and I showed up in the wake of Connor's birthday party and we were running
on less than 2 hours of sleep. (or at least I was. Considering that
Grant left Connor's party at the embarrassingly-early time of 1am, I'm
pretty sure he got a full night's sleep...)
From Left: Jock, some friend of Jordana's who loaded the truck "all
wrong", Ross, Grant and Sameen.
There was this errant piece of wood that we leaned against the truck
and in typical "I'm a British Idiot" fashion, Grant started
talking smack about how it would be totally easy to run up it into the
truck. Well, it quickly escalated into a dare and Grant (after 10 minutes
of praying to the English god of Pussydom) slowly worked up the nerve
to give the stunt a shot. (Check out Ross screaming in the background).
Well, three steps into his "run," the board let out a loud
"CRACK" and Grant bailed (like we all knew he would). Again,
check out Ross screaming with laughter in the background.
Ross and Grant. Grant is pointing to these drunk women in the background.
They were piss-ass wasted and bitching about how badly the Yankees had
gotten beaten the previous night in the first game of the World Series.
I ran over to them and kept trying to flatter one of the drunk ladies
into letting me take her picture. I kept telling her "C'mon, it'll
be so pretty." This photo is the result of me chasing her around
and trying to get her in the frame. (Note my eye on the left). She was
dying to dig into her freshly bought 16oz Bud Pounder (with a straw,
no less. ROCK!)
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