In all fairness to Amber, I don't want everyone who sees this to think she was the only one who at the time was drunk enough to think that pretending to rim someone was the best thing ever.
Yeah, when the ass worship photos start - you know things have totally spiraled out of control. In fact, after ass worship, only one stop remains on the embarrassing train of intoxication...
And then late night, I met up with Amber and Grant at M Bar for a night of Sid and Buddy Karaoke! Woo! The moment we walked in the door we were handed shots - compliments of...
After we were done watching Fatty writhe suggestively in a manner that recalled Tawny Kittain in a Whitesnake video, the three us of walked down to Mandarin Court for a Chinee dim sum breakfast celebration.
(Dear San Loco, How come when I'm drunk I can't help but eat you even though I know you always make feel sick? Your Friend, Brian.) After dos guaco tacos, Vin asked if he could crash on my couch because it was too late to bother going all the way back out to Brooklyn.
...that's right, y'all: FRANCES! Who could forget the septagenarian, chocolate, love-nugget that I French Kissed on my last birthday? (I'm so not kidding by the way, go on, click it. I dare you.) What's better than her cute lil' face pressed against my chest? She looks like one of the California Raisins! (Remember them?)
Fast forward several hours later: After we'd finished loading up all of Liz's stuff into the truck (Frank's was already in there), Frank, Fatty and Liz drove the truck over to their new apartment. There being no room in the truck, and their new apartment only a short distance away, we decided to walk over. We were making pretty good time until...
If you talked to any person from each of our respective high schools they wouldn't believe that these days girls actually let us touch them (Hell, Siege even gets paid to take pictures of him touching them!) If someone had managed to harness our combined adolescent sexual angst, we could've powered New York City for several days.
I tried to do the old "get a load of this passed-out drunk" photo with Amanda, but she was just conscious enough to figure out what I was up to and milliseconds after this pic was snapped, she managed to yank my head back. Hahah. Ow.
You have to be careful getting this close to Lo when she's been drinking - most of the time you'll just get your face licked, but if she's feeling vindictive, she give you a hickey that'll make it look like you survived a hanging (thanks Meredith!) before you even realize what she's up to.
So I go to my bedroom to check on things and who do I find in there? Jenny Penny and the random dude that got Vin, Amber and I stoned out of our tiny minds that one random night at Lit!
Danielle and Vanessa (who I met that night because they read this site! Hi girls! Sorry it took me, um, six months and eleven days to getting around to posting these photos! Doh.)
And here's me with posing for the "I'm a big pussy who can only eat one breakfast" picture. Now before you go and start complaining that Nikki and Sarah were being wasteful because there's no way any normal human could eat that much...
Once that party was in full swing, I decided it was time to unveil my new Spring Collection 2004.
Top-button, velour shirt, the stylist's own; skull n' bones concert -tee, Piebald ($10); white canvas belt, some Chinee lady on Canal Street ($1). Champagne flute crammed down front of pants for effect.
My friend Sarah was working for some fancy PR company during fashion week and invited me to some really exclusive party that MAC cosmetics was throwing. I couldn't care less, but a party's a party, right? I invited Nina (under the proviso that she's wear a dirty shirt). Nina doesn't disappoint.
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.
And to think, exactly twenty-four hours earlier we were in cold, wintery NYC sitting in front of a moron who was begging one of us to punch him. Sometimes the modern world amazes me.
Get a load of this fuggin' guy. I love how Scott has a perfect lipstick kiss-mark right in the middle of his forehead for pretty much the rest of the night.
Here's us with Scott and Eric, two guys that we met that were originally from Boston. Eric, the guy in the JERK shirt, moved to Aruba for good and is a lawyer there.
