...Jake (the guy who moved into my old room) had somehow agreed to let some film production company use the apartment to shoot a gay porno. WTF? The narrative of the movie called for the porno to be taking place at "a party" so Jake called up everyone pleading for them to come over and help it look like a party.
The dude in the green shirt was one of the "actors" in the movie (if you knowwhatimsayin). He spent his pre-scene time getting completely drunk and telling anyone that would listen that he wasn't gay and was just in porno for "the money." (...shots, probably).
After the movie, Leigh came over and helped me clean up my place and pack up the few things that the movers hadn't taken. My almost-empty bedroom. Sad!
On Thursday night (T-minus three days!) my roommate Victoria cooked a nice dinner and invited some of my friends over for a low-key dinner party. Here's The Fatty, Tinnz, Charlene and Grant (Sarah was there later on!)
Bonus points to whoever that is in the foreground hoisting a forty of homemade Brass Monkey (one of the Crowley Crew, no doubt). As the party started to get going, it was time to kick off the karaoke!
Lorelei and I kicked off the festivities with a duet. (By the way, I'm writing these caption in May of 2005, almost a year later so I pretty much have no idea what song anyone was singing in these pics).
Grant, Leigh, Meredith and Sarah (none of whom were super-pleased with my decision to move) came over to my apartment early to give me a series of presents they'd named "The New Yorker in San Franciso Survival Kit." My interest was piqued.
Here's the group doing the obligatory shot of Brennevin (the nasty liquor that I still have a huge surplus of from my trip to Iceland) before leaving the house.
Before heading over to Misshapes on Saturday night for my party, a few people came over to share a delicious wheel from Lombardi's. Here's Charelene and Grant digging in.
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*
Vic's famous chicken (known as "THE CONVERTER" because of its enticing aroma which has cased several vegetarians to let flesh pass their lips) and her fancily arranged salads.
On Tuesday, Victoria (the bestest roommate ever) cooked a special dinner and invited some people to our apartment to celebrate the fact that I ended up being offered the job to run the scavenger hunt company.
After a long day of moving, we all headed back to my apartment on the Bowery where Frank and Liz thanked us with pies from Lombardi's! Mmmmmmmmmm! Best pizza in the world. Then after dinner...
Usually when you go to a house party, you see the same people (give or take a few randoms). This party was awesome because there were all sorts of different groups of people that came out to celebrate the 3 friends' birthdays. Around 3am the party hit full stride. Everybody was having fun and getting drunk and it was right around this time that the crowd started getting...
The party official ended a little after five. Our initial "let's get a head start on cleaning up now!" efforts were quickly given up on when we decided we were all too fucked up to be bothered to clean.
Also around this time, Herman, my roommate's cat came out of hiding and was totally FUCKING PISSED to discover what a mess we'd made of his apartment. Check him out glaring at us.
Laura and Sarah showed got to my apartment a little before 11pm, helped set up and sound-checked our awesome karaoke stage. (Special thanks to Mike Jurin who saved the karaokeness of the party by generously lending his speakers at the very last moment!)
On Thursday afternoon, I was sitting at my desk working on my computer when I heard an INSANE ruckus out on the street. I opened up my window and saw this!
We went over our packing checklist and got some three dolla Chinee foo from across the street and the hung out shooting the shit with my roommate Victoria. Around 2:45am, we were still wide awake and decided we should go out and grab a drink before settling in for the night (that and the fact that Scott was getting my roommate to talk about dirty stuff - I mean, c'mon, do you really need to know your roommate's got a penchant for shaved nuts - and I needed to get him outta there before I lost my mind. Hahaha).
Vin and Amber weren't up for braving the late-night trek back to their place so we all somehow managed to navigate back to my place. Check out Vin holding his head. Hahaha.
Oh yeah, did I forget to mention that early January in NYC was unseasonably warm. This bank theremometer hangs right outside my window and I snapped this pic right before going home. 55 degrees at 4:30am on January 3rd??? Insanity.
Here's Chris and Fatty back at my apartment getting ready to head back to their respective homes - so ends our journey.
Between the three of us that had cameras, we managed to take just over 2,000 pictures which I edited down to 21 entries comprised of exactly 790 photos. And so it's with these last few words that I end the European Vacation Series (which is by far, the longest diary project I've ever undertaken). Back to life in NYC!
Here's Fatty later on that night at my place checking his JDate email one last time. Because Fatty's like one of three Jewish guys on the site that's taller than six foot and has all his hair, the kid gets more emails than he knows what to do with.
On Sunday afternoon, Grant left my apartment (where he'd been temporarily staying a few days) to head to California until March. First, he'd be in LA for a few weeks to film a TV pilot and then for a few months up at our friends' ranch in northern California near Yosemite to finish up a book he's been working on. So long, lil' buddy. Faretheewell. These streets just won't be the same without your silly accent and DLR kicks. But somehow, we'll try to get *sniffle* by.
I got home to find Tara hanging out in my apartment and wearing my underwear. Hey, you'd be hiding your face too if I'd caught you drinking drinking a wine cooler! Cuh-lassy! Hahaha
Back at my apartment, we lit a ton of candles and hung out in the kitchen with Victoria; listening to the radio and trying to learn more about when the power might come back on.
Maybe it's because the time is now 9:34pm (on the same day)
and Grant's already given up on the fast. Yep, that's right - Mr. IBetcha
Fivehundreddollars
was able to go without food for exactly 9 hours and 58 minutes.
(And then making the story even better, a few weeks later Grant confessed
that he had snuck a cookie earlier in the afternoon. Hahahah).