After our jams, we were shooting the shit about his company and the prospect of me moving out to San Francisco when this lady (who weighed like 83lbs and was totally spun out of her mind on meth) came over to us and just kept talking and talking and talking and talking. The only time she even stopped to take a breath was when she smiled for this photo. After ten minutes of politely enduring her word-torrent and hinting that we were ready to be left alone, we finally gave up and literally walked away in the middle of her (still!) talking. Thumbs up for meth!
And again and again and again. Six more times in total. (We were going to ride it a seventh, but after a while our insides felt all shifty and weird and I remember how if you're exposed to too much g-force you can tear some of the connective tissue in your abdomen that holds all of your organs in place and then you poop blood. This actually happened to my little brother when were visiting my aunt down in South Carolina years and years ago. They had just gotten a huge trampoline and he spent over 5 hours a day jumping up and down on it, by the fourth or fifth day: Blood poop.) So, six is enough, right? No one wants blood poop. Especially not on your birthday.
Meredith needed to learn HTML for her job so on Thursday evening she came over and I played teacher for the first of a series of HTML lessons - skills she's since begun using to do her very own photo diary! (PS - Despite her obvious interest in computers, I'm convinced it was all a ploy to get in my pants).
There was this dude there who had slathered himself in that awful bronzer skin dye that makes you look tan. He kept going up to Sid and Buddy every five minutes and saying stuff like "Yo dudes, am I going to be up anytime soon? I'm going to be a famous singer someday and it might be in your best interest to treat me right." He tried that nonsense for 90 minutes and finally growing discouraged, bribed them with $40 and was instantly put on stage. Hahaha. He started singing some awful Justin Timberlake song while gyrating and air-humping. This prompted Carol to bum-rush the stage and sexily unbutton his shirt while he sang. He thought she was into him, but everytime he looked away from her, she'd pull faces like this...
And by the time I got a second shot off, Sarah's hair was soaked and she'd plugged up the flow with her thumb to avoid smelling malty the rest of the evening.
Sarah attempting to recreate my favorite photo of her ever. My camera went off early so I only managed to capture a little dripple peeking out of the bottle.
...the craziest, highest rock n' roll jump kick I've ever seen in my life. If only DLR (who lives less than a block away, incidentally) could've been there to see it - he would've wept with joy knowing his heir apparent lives. (This is so wallpaper worth - click here for the hi-res version).
...here he is at the peak! How fucking unbelievable is this picture? As soon as I clicked the shutter I knew I'd managed to capture something magical. Click here to download a full-size, high-resolution version. Because you know you want to set this shit as your desktop wallpaper.
"Drop 'em, whiteboy!" After Jamie had received a few "undie only" wacks with the paddle, Candy faced him to the crowd and brought him center stage and Buddy on the mic (still doing his "stripclub emcee" voice) asked him, "Allright Jamie, are you ready to see what else we have in store for you? TAKE OFF THE BLINDFOLD!" Jamie took off the blindfold expecting to see a bunch of naked girls in some club in Queens and instead...
With Grant still away (he was in the UK and then Spain for a few weeks chilling with his family), Fatty had some serious comedy slack to pick up. Luckily, he was up for the challenge, hunchedly chasing this snooty fur shawl-wearing lady down Park Ave while making a silly "I'm tip-toeing" face on our way back from playing Frisbee in the Sheep's Meadow in Central Park. Comedy gold, I tell ya. Later that night, a whole bunch of us met up in the East Village to celebrate...
This is hands down the my favorite picture of Sarah Lewitinn. Right when I ran into her I busted out my cam and she was like "Oh, hold on a sec!" and then started pouring her beer out on her head.
After she'd finished rolling around on top of that girl she didn't know, Amber hopped up with a quickness to give Sarah a "bronsky." (Credit for that phrase goes to Candy. I was telling her about how strippers put their boobs in your face and shake them and she was like "Oh, you mean a bronsky?" Hahah. I guess all girls with stripper names know all the "inside terms.") Look at Sarah wrinking her face in ecstasy.
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?
With the exception of an upcoming photo where Sarah is pouring an entire beer out on her own head, this is my favorite picture of her. Talking, smoking, drinking, DJing, pimping.
The best thing I've ever seen in my life was this pack of eight year-old girls from the Lower East Side who rolled up on their bikes to watch in disbelief. Their collective look of "WHAT THE FUCK ARE THESE CRACKERS DOING?" cannot even be described.
After watching them try to make sense of the situation for more than five minutes, Grant and I wandered over and tried to make things more interesting. We explained (er, ok - lied) to the girls and told them that the kids were dancing as part of a hidden camera show - they were dancing stupid on purpose in hopes that people would yell stuff at them and heckle them - but the problem was, no one had heckled them yet. We told the girls that if they started shouting insults, they'd totally get to be on MTV. We let them ponder that for a few minutes, and then slunk back to enjoy the magic that ensued. Needless to say, the Dance Revolution packed up and headed back to their NYU dorm in a fucking (embarrassed) jiffy.
Here's Leigh, who I had a huge crush on but hardly knew at this point because I was playing "hard to get," (also known as "being a huge pussy") after a dance floor mishap.
Afterwards we went to Piano's where Amber totally won the "see who get a better photo with this guy" contest. Red gloves? Two sets of handcuffs? Bondage collar? There's so much going on here I don't even know where to start the joke.
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.
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).
...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).
This was too fucking funny: Jen Choi and Amber were arguing over who should get to drink an errant shot of whiskey (that was likley there because we're all girly men who were too pussy to drink it). Jen Choi was like "How about we each drink half?" Amber was like "Sounds good. Here, I'll drink the first half." Then after pausing for a moment, she yelled "SUCKER!" and shot the shot. I managed to catch Jen's face right when she started to realize she'd been had. That just goes to prove the old adage: Never trust a heavily tattooed girl in a hot-pink lycra shirt to share her whiskey.
...concuss himself out as rammed the can into his head full-force while doing the old "Hey look at me! I'm the guy with a mohawk who crushes cans on his head" trick.
Time out! On my walk up Bowery to meet Grant and the boys for a little pre-karaoke Thai dinner, I saw a white, 40ft Hummer limo parked outside of CBGBs. As I passed the open door, I was almost blinded by bling. A white Hummer stretch limo? Vision-restrictive amounts of bling? There could only be one human responsible for that - That's right, y'all, it's BIG RAY. Ray was an "investor" in a studio we built when I was a partner in on online music start-up. Turns out one of the bands he manages was playing CBGBs that night and it gave us a chance to catch up.
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...
Along with Dennis' crew came superstar Mike Tully, who dropped some hip hop flava on the crowd before chugging his forty of brass monkey (that's malt liquor and orange juice) and heading off to see the Dizzy Rascal show.
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.
So by this point in the night, we'd told everyone that we'd flown in without a place to stay and that we planned on partying ALL NIGHT our first two days and sleeping in the car for a few hours each morning. So when when the Paddock had last call at 2am, the group (still clearly riding high from our Jersey-pride fueled rendition of Bon Jovi's seminal hit "Livin' on A Prayer"), was only too happy to indulge the "crazy New Yorkers," and suggested we all head to an all night karaoke afterhours club. ("An Arubian all night karaoke afterhours club." Is there a sweeter phrase in the world?)
By the way, as we were getting ready to leave the Paddock, the bartender put a stack of plastic cups on the bar. When I inquired what they were for, our new friend Inge explained that they were "to go" cups for your drinks. She mistook my blank stare of disbelief and explained further, "You know, in case you're not done with your drink - you pour it in one of those and then you have it with you for the car ride to where ever you're going next." Me: "Um, but isn't it illegal to drink and drive?" Inge: "I don't think so. Wait, maybe it's illegal for the driver to be drinking, but it doesn't matter. Everyone does it anyway." Me: "Isn't that dangerous?" Inge: "Not really, there are only a few roads and the speed limit is 35mph everywhere - so even if you crash no one really ever gets hurt." Um. Yeah. O-kaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay.
Oh, and by "full effect," I mean shirtless. Check out kooky Candy getting caught up in the karaoke moment and whipping off her shirt and swinging it over her head...
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