In a totally crazy coincidence, later that night we ran into Steve Haise who is hands down the BIGGEST Van Halen fan we know (and maybe even in the world). He almost creamed himself when he heard where we'd been earlier that night.
We got to the building in question and fucked around pressing all the apartment buzzers until someone finally buzzed us in (Holly Golightly style, boyeeee). We weren't positive the intelligence we'd gotten was accurate until we got into the lobby and saw this sticker on one of the mailboxes (I shit you not!). He even calls himself DLR. Fucking amazing.
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.
What's up best photo of all time? Just as I was about to snap a pic of the delicious cinnamon buns baking in the oven, my brother, who loves cinnamon buns more than ANYONE you've ever met, pops his excited face into view.
Scary clown candy! (Okay, there probably would've been a lot more "candy!" pictures except that right after this picture was taken Grant got caught using my camera to take pictures of some lady's ass while pretending to take pictures of candy and a female employee asked him to leave the store. "Sir, If you're going to take pictures, please make sure someone you know is in them. Thank you." Hahahahaha.).
If you don't know her from when we danced dirty at my Goodbye Brooklyn party back in April of 2002, do yourself a favor and familiarize yourself with the background to this story right now. (Don't worry, it'll open a new window and when you're done you can just close it and you'll be right back here, kay?)
Here's Tara and me at the Taqueria. Why bother with Italy when you can kill two birds with one stone and eat "athentic" Mexican food right next to the canals of Venice? Vegas, baby. Vegas. They've got it all figured out.
...this time he made sure to wear pants that can only be described as "ass-a-liscous!" Grant Stoddard kneels down so he can appreciate it in all its full glory.
Hey! Remember The Ass? (If not, you must take immediately take a time out from this entry to go back and read about him. Just click here, don't worry, it'll open into another window for you.)
All caught up? Well then you're probably thinking to yourself "Wow Brian, how in the world did The Ass (who's real name is Stevie, I'd like to add) end up at your party?" I'm glad you asked.
Most of you know that I work for an online dating company. One of the people who reviews the profiles when they're created came across Stevie's profile and emailed it to my attention. I emailed Stevie through the personals and sent him a link the aforementioned diary entry (when I dragged him out of Lombardi's to photograph his ass). He thought the pics were hilarious so I invited him to the party. And he came! AND..
Okay, so I'm chilling in the beer room getting a drink (remeber, this is college and most of the kids aren't old enough to drink, bless their little hearts, so there was a whole room set aside for all the "older" kids), and this incredibly hot, scantily-clad, girl comes up to me and just starts freaking my shit. I don't think I've ever smiled that big in my life.
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
