At the opening party for some dive bar in the East Village. They didn't have their liquor license yet so get got free glasses of (ow-my-head) champagne.
But she still got enough of a tan that she had to wear white make up on her face to work the next day so as not to blow her "I was sick in bed yesterday" cover story.
Then we decided it was time to play everyone's favorite game: DRUNK GUY JENGA! The rules are simple, each person takes a turn placing any object within reach on the passed out person. If you wake them up, you lose!
Oh yeah, and based on this picture I guess I also played "Hot For Teacher" by VH. (I only know that because it's the only song with a pick-slide hot enough to merit a physcial reenactment).
After I mastered being a DJ, I headed back over to my apartment to meet up with Grant. And do a little pre-party warm up drinking. Full Story: Remember how we went to Iceland? Well, we ended up buying a bunch of bottles of this stuff called Brennivan - which means "Black Death" in Icelandic. Anyway, only after we'd bought a bunch of bottles of it did we learn that it tastes like it's made out of Band-Aids and pine needles. Not wanting to throw it away, I decided that anytime someone's over my house and we're going on, everyone present has to do a jigger of Brennivan before leaving. So here's Grant and I about to take our obligatory medicine. *sputter*
But before getting on that early morning D train, I met up with Grizza and headed deep into the heart of Chinatown for a daring dim sum breakfast. I mean, if you're going to be spending all day in the heat, you should make sure your first meal has plenty of vitamin C(at).
Sorry, Larson. Shortly after Larson's song, I was called up and handed my camera off to Grant so he could take some pics of me. Instead, Grant spent the entire time using my camera to...
After the show, we decided to head over to Lit. On the walk over Grant was taking pics so when he wasn't looking I pulled by pants down to show some ass-crack and then hid it with my shirt. Then right when he was ready to take the next photo, I raised my arms so that my shirt would lift forcing Grant to accidentally take a picture of my ass. The joke was executed flawlessly save one small problem: I apparently don't have an ass.
...and drove to nearby New Milford, CT to pick up Vin at his parent's house and bring him back down to NYC (coincidentally, Vin and The Fatty both grew up in New Milford).
The gang getting ready to chow down. (PS - Already at this early point in the night, Chef, who you can barely see peeking out behind Colin, was so wasted that he kept screaming at the restaurant and almost had us thrown out).
I ended the night at Max Fish with Susan and Scott. (Oh, and if David Lee Roth's lawyer reads this...these photos were all faked in Photoshop. I, uh, swear.)
After a few knocks, it was clear that no one was going to answer. We figured that maybe everyone was out on the balcony deck with DLR and they couldn't hear us. We decided to head up to the roof and see if we'd be able to get a vantage point of the party from there.
Dear Steve's Wonderful, Smart, Witty and Beautiful Girlfriend Whose Name I Can't Remember, I'm sorry I can't remember your name. I'm going to blame it on all those Pineapple & Malibus we drank together. (You may think I'm kidding, but that really is one of my favorite drinks. Scotch at an open bar leads me to only one place: ThrowUpOnYourselfville. So if you're looking to pace yourself, you can't go wrong with good ol' Pineapple & Malibus - and hey, they're delicious!) (PS - Since this entry was originally written, I've obviously remembered that her name is Amanda! Sorry, Amanda!)
Then, back at my parents house, my brother and his girlfriend dug up my freshman year choir portrait. What's up, 1990 in the house? How much do you love my mullet complete with undershaved sides? Ouch.
Somwhere along the line, Jonas said it was his birthday wish to take shirtless photos with me. Timmy took my camera, and Jonas got my shirt off faster than a fatgirl can unwrap a Twix. Here's me trying to hide my giant boner by acting uncomfortable.
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).
Afterwards, we hit the park where I quickly lapsed into a hamburger-induced slumber. (Yo, check out my "haven't shaved in two days" dirtstache. Suh-weet.)
In the midst of our maxing and relaxing, Grant got a call on his cell from his Grammy Pammy in England (who is probably the only octagenarian who is a regular reader of my site)!
Somewhere during the course of the afternoon, I ended up making friends with this deaf mute guy. He spent his day circling the park and barking (yes, literally barking, he's deaf mute, remember?) at girls in bikinis to get their attention and then taking their picture with a disposable camera. He communicated with us by miming and manage to tell us that he puts all of his photos of girls in bikinis in an album and that we should all come over and look at the pictures sometime because he lives right around the corner. (I swear this is true. How could I even make something like this up?) The only thing I didn't learn was his name.
On Sunday we headed back to Thompkins Square Park to enjoy the sunshine. (From L to R: Matt Lavin aka "Buddy" from Sid & Buddy fame, Vin, me and the Tins).
We took this picture of us both speaking with her and assured her that it'd eventually be posted on the site. So here's a big shout out to Grammy Pam! (Here's a pic of her from when we were in London last year! She's the one immediately to Grant's left!)
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