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Which resulted in me taking this photo (which I ended up using as my biography photo on my portfolio site!).
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Hahaha.
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...becomes THE HUNTED!
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Hahahah.
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...paid back for all my braining. (This is the worst girls can do? Sheee-it, sign me up! I usually have to give a stranger a dollar to get this!)
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...this incredible photo op. Hahahah. How fucking scary is photo? Will looks 800 times more like Bad Sensei than I look like Johnny. His resemblance is uncanny! If there had been a lookalike "Daniel-san" in the bar that night, he totally would've shit his pants.
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White-trash self-portrait.
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Hahahaha.
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...moustaches! Hahaha. Every single time I look at Grant's expression in this pic I actually laugh out loud. (And now that I'm looking again, I guess my silky, blonde moustache is pretty sweet as well).
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Hahaha.
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I decided to go with Skid Row's cautionary ballad, 18 & Life. I was even lucky enough to score a stageful of interpretive backup dancers. Sure, that song might be a ballad...
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Hahahah.
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Awwwwww.
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I passed the fuck out and Meredith took pics of my sleeping double chin.
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...slip into something more comfortable.
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Eureka! This one's perfect. Holy shit we're fucking ugly. No wonder neither of us can ever get laid!
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Check out Silky Black Cowboy giving me the "I'll give you one guess which whiteboy's so gonna throw up when he gets home?"
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Here are the fruits of his labor though. Well worth the wait!
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...dead zombie hula girls.
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Tinny's face pretty much says it all.
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Me standing next to one of em.
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...of one of the sharks we'd seen earlier.
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Awwwww! Thanks so much guys! You are the best friends ever. (Sorry I moved back so soon!). I started to put my gifts away and they were all like "No, no, no. After all the time we spent rounding that stuff up, you're wearing it at the party, CALIFORNIA BOY!"
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Grant was digging it, though. And speaking of transformations, when did Grant transform into...
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Tinny wasn't a fan of the transformation.
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When you're following Grant on the karaoke stage, you always gotta bring out the crowd pleasers.
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I'm not sure I handed my camera over to at this point but as you'll be able to see over the next few pics, they managed to grab some clutch snaps. I didn't even know I was capable of making a face like this. (Check out Leigh in the background losing her shit. Hahaha).
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Know what I'm saying? (The best part of this photo is Meredith holding onto Sarah's hand like she needs some support).
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Ummm, thanks Meredith.
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When Leigh and I met up with Meredith on the street, she was holding a shopping bag and laughing. Apparently, my birthday present that she'd told me was being "specially made" had finally arrvied and she informed me that she was going to "make me wear it out tonight." Well, Meredith's present turned out to be this uber-classy shirt that says "P is for Pussy" on the front (complete with a picture of the cookie monster doing the internation sign for pussy-eating)...
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Same picture, but this time someone managed to sneak in a crafty 'FUCK YOU, BIRTHDAY BOY" finger into the mix.' Hahaha.
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Gavin and I locked in a deadly karaoke battle.
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Me back at home post-shower doing my (sunburnt) impression of Clark Kent.
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And then this naughty boy got what's been coming to him for a long time.
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A litter later in the evening we ran into Evan, Grant's former Nerve intern from years ago who now runs Block Magazine out of Brooklyn. (Whom I totally fucking assassinated with one of the best "get a load of this fucking guy" finger-points in the history of the sport. Hahahahah).
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...Karen's 23rd birthday! Wooo! I brought her a six-pack of Sparks to help instigate some birthday trouble (more on that later...hehehe). The day after the party, I took all my pics and posted them into a "sneak peek" gallery for Karen (because she assumed, correctly I might add, that it would be "like six months" before I finally got around to posting them here).

Anyway, somehow a photo editor at Rolling Stone saw this pic and wanted to use it for a blurb about Sparks in an upcoming "What's Hot" issue. I was stoked. A day later, she realized that Sarah is an editor at Spin and apparently didn't want to prominently feature and editor from a competitive magazine doing something "hot." She went back through my pics and found another photo of people drinking Sparks that Sarah wasn't in and asked if she could use that instead. "Well, Sarah's not in that photo, but the problem is: I'm not either." (And hey, I wanted to be doing something "hot" in Rolling Stone, ok?) So I asked her, "What if I can figure out a way to hide Sarah?" She was like "I don't even know what you're talking about." That is, until I sent her...
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We tried a few different camera techiniques but failed to duplicate the "golden coronosphere" lighting effect around the edges of the wig.
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Hahahah. Who?
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Hey ladies, do you like our manly cut-off jean short legs?
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I don't even think I made it up to sing. Oh wait...who cares!
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Speaking of pimping, this lady was walking around the party and people kept coming up to her and kissing her ass. After watching her run shit for like 20 minutes, I finally couldn't take the expense. I walked up to her and told her that I loved her outfit and asked if I could take a pic. She was like "But of course!" Afterwards, I was like, I hope this doesn't offend you, but who are you? She was like "Not at all, darling. I am Zelda. I'm a fashion designer." Does anyone out there know who this lady is? Or did someone's grandma get into some extra fabric and use it to escape a nearby nursing home?
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And then we went to some cool park to shoot the shit and catch up. After eating, we only had about ninety minutes to hang out before I had to head to the airport to catch my flight home.
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When you do the Jovi right, girls can't help but touch their boobies! Hot damn!
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Check out my blinging imitation Oakley Blades. You're wet, aren't you? (PS - Sarah pointed out that my dad looks like the dad from the Family Guy and I haven't been able to look at him without smiling since).
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...that's right. The one thing my mom forgot to mention was that all of the ski clothes that they had were purchased at the height of the eighties' fluorescent colors craze. Check us out! (You may need to dim your monitor's brightness setting in order to do so).
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Hahahah. Holy shit. Fatty and I spent the next 20 minutes voguing while Pappi played Helmut Newton.
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Hahaha. Buddy's photographer friend emailed me this pic a few days later. Check me out rocking with a can of beer. I look like a Pabst's commercial. After karaoke I headed over to Lit to see what was shaking.
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Yay, new friends! (Clockwise from Scott: Lorainne, me, Alexandra and Inge).
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Here's Scott and I at 10am on Thursday morning leaving my apartment for the airport.
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Take two! This time with more attitude and less Ken.
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You know him, you love him. Ladies and gentleman, put your hands together and give a warm welcome to Chi-Chi's Mexican Mall Strip's very own, Music Man Jo-Jo Russell! (Yo, y'all may remember Jo Jo from entries like "Thanksgiving 2002," the good news is, his long-promised website is finally up and running!)
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"Now throw your hands in the air and scream!"
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Leila took a quick break from her make out sesh to writhe and gratuitously cup her breasts next to me on stage while I sang. Thanks for that, hon. Motley Crue karaoke just isn't the same without a girl on the stage touching herself and shimmying suggestively.
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...quickly digressed into another Sears' Catalog-inspired photo shoot. "Look! Over there!" "No! Look over there!"
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Turns out, the highway was way less scary than the little road we'd been riding through town. On the little road, we were forced to ride in the sketchy, pothole ridden shoulder, where we constantly had to worry about cars pulling out in front of us and dogs that were running around in the street. But on the highway there was hardly any traffic and the shoulder was wide and smoothly paved. (By the way, you know you totally love my wind-styled Farrah Fawcett wings. They're the latest in cycling fashion.)
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Live Show gets the thumbsdown! Here's us in the parking lot trying to assess the financial damage. Our four Russian "strippers" managed to fleece the four of us for a grand total of €120 in less than 20 minutes! And we still didn't manage to see any heines! We hopped in the car to drive the remaing 1/4 mile back to our resort, and in the moment of silence after we were finished laughing hysterically at what had just happened we all heard Grant say quietly to himself: "Hmmmmm. A hundred Euros, eh?" Hahahahaha.
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Here's the last pic I took before the air temperature forced me to stash my camera and make a beeline for the insanely awesome 110°F water.
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Me. ("Smoosh it good!")
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This was the best part, I was standing really close to him with my nuts out and all of sudden he woke up. He seemed started to find me standing so close to him and and was like "What's up?" So I said to him enthusiastically, "Nothing, dude! You're rocking the fuck out, that's what! Let's take a picture together!" He jumped up and with like "Ok!" So that's how I turned an "Almost Got My Ass Kicked" situtation into the greatest "You Don't Know You're Posing With My Balls But You Are" picture of all time.
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...and here's my bringing it home to mommie. Check out Tiffany's face...sooooo funny.
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That is until he got next to her and forced his alcohol-impaired, little eyes to focus for a second. Actually, forget the dim light, s/he's actually pretty hot regardless of what she may (or may not be) packing downstairs.
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Big Daddy tearing it up with Huey Lewis' seminal "I Want a New Drug." Homeboy kicked it so hard he needed not one, but two blonde, hula-clad male dancers. Check out that face; the urgency - can't you see how much Big Daddy wants that new drug?
Here's a video of the kiss. It's a bummer because you have to tilt your head to the left and because you can only see the kiss clearly for one split-second when the flash goes off, but it's still totally worth watching just so you can hear that Sexual Healing by Mr. Marvin Gaye was playing on the jukebox when this all went down. Hahahaha.
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...tongue kissed a sixty-seven year old woman.
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...and then the next thing I know, out of the blue, she's giving my bum the old double-handed grab. (I mean, check out her expression, she's making the "ooooooh" face and everything. Bonus points to Grant for catching this shit with the cam).
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I was trying to take a video of us rocking out but took a picture instead and managed to capture us in the midst of some pretty serious MetalFaces (check out Fatty pretending to play kit in the background with his DrummerFAce in full effect. Hahaha).
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Seth was kind enough to offer me a sip of his water as a chaser. Only after a I swallowed did I realize his "water" was actually a glass of vodka with just a little bit of ice. A real prince among men, I tell ya.
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After months of getting people to willingly pose with my balls, it was time to try something new: getting unsuspecting people to unknowingly pose with my balls. I discreetly whipped out my bag, and grabbed one of our new friends for a picture. I handed off the cam to Seth who totally shit the bed by not managing to get my balls in the pic. Doh! The rest of the guys in the pic (Check out Grant and Franks' faces) were laughing so hard that the girl in the black shirt was totally confused...
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This guy was one of the only people there that fit-in with the rest of the crowd less than we did. I mean, c'mon, homeboy was wearing a leather vest! I went up to him and told him that he bore an uncanny resemblance to my brother-in-law (you know, the guy that married my non-existent sister) and asked if I could take his pic (when all I really wanted was a pic of his leather vest). Anyway, he turned out to be the nicest guy in the world and we ended up hanging out with him the rest of the night (and I got the pic of his leather vest, taboot).
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We showed off our "French Faces." What eez zee poin? Ehhh?
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Au revoir pour toujours, ma petite tomate!
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A few weeks prior, I had tried to nuzzle Sarah's boobies while we were cutting rug at P.Diddy's party and she ran away. But this time, sweet, sweet success. Hahahaha.
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Ok, this photo's a bit redundant, but I only included it because check out Fatty surreptitiously making faces at his date. Hahahaha.
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"Must like sushi, long walks on the beach...oh, and one mo' thing: shouldn't steal my stuff." New York City, I love you so much.
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Copious ammounts of boardwalk junk food lead to one thing...
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Me with my grilled skirt steak (served with cumin-spiced fries, string beans, piquillo peppers and tomato chimichurri).
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I spent most of Monday in meetings for work. Tara spend most of Monday getting incredibly sunburnt at the hotel pool. Ouchie. After meeting up, we set out on the strip to explore some more.
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Watch those lil' fingers, Sweetpea!
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C'mon in a get yer noodie pic taken! Don't worry, it's art!
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Josh, Grant and myself with Jess and her "two friends." (Dennis Crowley said it best in a recent email: "this may be one of the best photos ever snapped with a digicam.")
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GUN SHOW! After this pic of Nina and I was taken, Josh looked at it and said to Grant, "Whoa, gross. I can't belive you used to hump Brian's sister."
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Bwa-haha.
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What, you don't believe me? See those two smoking hot, blonde hula girls? Yeah, that's right! They got so hot and bothered by my karaoke jam that right after i was done singing they took me in the bathroom and I totally got down with both of them! So who's gay now, huh? Huh?
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You know what baby's got...
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Special Guest Commentary from Grant Stoddard via IM: "As we learned early on, the main perk of bartending is having total control of the juke box *and* full license to play air guitar along to the metal anthems you select."

(Major bonus points taken away from whoever took this pic and managed to almost crop me completely out while I'm making what looks like it could've been the best "metal face" I've ever pulled. Curse you!)
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Brett with the fam.
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What's better than this picture? Seriously.
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Oh, wait. This picture, that's what.
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Don't even get me started on the whole fucking mesh, trucker-hat phenomenon again. Suffice it to say that for a short while it was so out of hand that I actually resorted to having this shirt made up.
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Winnie's didn't have paper tablecloths so Grant was forced to draw his nightly picture of me on a karaoke request slip and hold it up for the cam.
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Tara and I making fun of the pic that was taken of us the night we met at Pianos back in January.
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Me and Tara.
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Emily, Tara, Tiff and me (look at Emily getting all frisky with my coco-jugs).
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...and we finally managed to blend in at The Hole. "Haaaaaay!"
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A night out with Grant just isn't complete these days until he's laid down his almost-perfected caricature of me.
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Jason Schwartzman. Those are gangsigns. O.R. they?
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While I did my best to channel McCartney's scream...
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Me and Tara.
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Who loves you Big Daddy, eh? Who loves you?