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So eight
of us decided to take a long-weekend vacation up in Montreal. Five of
us departed Friday morning from New York City, and the other three guys
left from Boston and we met up at our fancy hotel in Montreal. We spent
the next two days having fun, catching up, and hitting the town to abuse
the pathetic Canadian dollar...
This is Zion Levy - he's the Israeli cab driver that drove Grant and
I up to Fatty's to get the rental car. When he heard we were going to
Montreal, he started laughing and told us that "the Montreal women
are many naughty and are enjoying to make the fuck very much."
He then launched into what might be the greatest story of all time about
how when he was a young lad visiting the Jersey shore, a bus load of
women from Montreal showed up and he fucked most of them (including
a mother and her 17 year old virgin-daughter.) Seriously, I haven't
laughed so hard in a long time. If you ever get in Zion's cab, make
sure to tell him you're heading to Canada.
Here's the New York Five, coldlamping in front of our pimpin' rented
Blazer. From Left: Grant, Dave "Fatty" Fateman, Colin "Big
Daddy" Gentle and Frank "Seven Layer" Picarazzi.
In Montreal, we met up with the three other guys (who drove in from
Boston). Seth (the guy next to me), Chef (not pictured because he's
being blocked by Fatty's head) and the uber-scary (and therefore edited
out of most of the pictures) Ethan (gee, can you figure out which guy
is the sociopath in the pic...c'mon, look carefully.).
Six cheap Canadian beers later, Grant somehow figured out he could really
do a DLR-style (David Lee Roth) jumpkick!!! Check out this shit I managed
to capture mid-air.
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On Saturday, while browsing for discounted Canadian porn, we found out
about Grant's former life as a model for the "Mr. Jack: Hungy,
Hard Sucking, Mouth! (complete with multi-variable vibration unit).
Check that shit out, the resemblance is uncanny.
After a hard day of shopping and further sullying the repuations of
Americans in general, we went back to our fancy hotel and got all dressed
up for...
....a night out on the town! Seth being a pimped-ass high roller, he
called in to have a limo chaffeur our asses around all night. Nothing
says class like a white-stretch with neon underrunners, baby.
Oh, and mirrored ceilings. You gotta have mirrored ceilings.
Saturday night we went the Quatro steakhouse where we all prompty fell
in love with...
...the lovely Stephanie. Who in addition to being to the most charmingest
waitress in all of Montreal is planning on finishing up school and moving
to New York City so she can become....my wife.
Seven Layer put on a fancy shirt and wasn't about to get clam sauce
all over it...check him shamelessly sporting the fucking Guinea Bib.
Molto bello, fuckhead!
Seth, Seven Layer (sans bib), Grant and me.
Back in tha lizzimo.
Here's a picture taken to document Grant's promise to me that he would
under go "saline
augmentation of the scrotum" for his next "I
Did It For Science" column. Booyah!
One more DLR-kick for good measure. Ahhhhhm Talking about tha Yankee
Rose!
The band formerly known as Jetsetera poses for a snow-ridden stroll
down Mammary Lane.
Le Negs in tha hizzouse.
Big Daddy eats a Dig Daddy.
Here the New York Five homeward bound on Sunday evening.
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