A couple days after the party, we all received an email from him with a link to a surprise video he'd edited together with all the clandestine hula hooping video he'd shot. It. Is. Amazing. My favorite part is the highlight reel of everyone throwing their hands up and leaning that starts around the 1:45 minute mark (right after Siege does the "white man's overbite") and just keeps getting better. (PS - Make sure you check out Ellen's sideways "tit-sway" at 2:14. Amazing.)
Since we were all pretty much recovering from my going away party earlier in the week (and also since I'd used "Hey, I'm moving" as an excuse to party pretty much every single night for the past five weeks) we decided to play it low-key and have a mellow last night at Misshapes. Here's Fatty, Amy and I on the cab ride over.
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).
We woke up early on Saturday morning, thought about skiing for a half-day, but when Fatty informed us that his pulled muscle still really hurt, it was the only excuse we needed to reset the alarm for noon and go back to sleep. We made it into the car a little before 1pm and started driving to Boston for Seth's surprise party.
After dinner, Liz left Fatty in the room to go make a phone call. We thought she would be gone longer and so when she came back early, she was given sneakpeek into what "macho" guys like Fatty and I do when there aren't ladies around we have to worry about showing off in front of.
First off, Friday was March 12th, so let me give a happy birthday shout out to little brother Brett! Happy TwoFour, playa! We got up a little before 8am and by 8:30 were were all dressed and ready for the mountain (PS - Hey Fatty, Captain Kirk just contacted me on his communicator - he wants his shirt back)
Here's me and the Fatster on the lift up for the first run. The first half of the day was great - but in the afternoon, the temperature dropped significantly and the mountain got super fogger. On one of his last runs, Fatty ate shit wicked hahd (that means he fell hard, for any of you not familiar with New England's quaint colloquialisms), and pulled a muscle pretty badly.
...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).
Now, neither Fatty or I had been skiing in several years and so we didn't have any ski gear. We were going to buy all new ski coats and gloves, but when I mentioned our upcoming trip to my mom she said "We have a whole trunk of ski gear - why don't you boys come out and visit and you can just borrow from us?" With Fatty recently having left his job as well, borrowing as opposed to buying made much more sense. So on Wednesday night, we took Fatty's car and drove out to my parents house in New Jersey. After we were done marveling at the veritable cornucopia that is my parent's well-stocked suburban fridge, it was time to get down to business. My mom took Fatty and I over to their trunk of ski clothes, but when she opened it, there was a horrifying blinding flash of light that seared our eyes and forced us to our knees...
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.
Fare thee well Fatty! After seeing Dave off, Grant and I went to a bookstore and killed some time before we came back for him to drop me off (I was actually supposed to stay another two days, but being in 65 degree weather a few days before Christmas proved to be too much and I switched my flight so I could get home, do a little Christmas shopping and spend some time with my fam.
After I'd finished documenting our facial hair, we headed back to the house, showered (and I shaved, thank god), packed up and hit the road to head back down to Los Angeles (to attend the surprise birthday party that Jordana had put together for him. Shhhh!).
One of the ranch hands was kind enough to give our saddle-sore cityslicker asses a lift back from the stable to the house (saving us the embarrasment of a bowlegged walk of pain home).
After a restful night of sleep at Uncle Ira's, we woke on Monday to do some quick exploring of San Fran before starting the four and a half hour drive out to the ranch in North Fork.
After getting settled in at Uncle Ira's, we all headed to downtown SF to meet up with some friends (my friend Alysha, Jamie Waxman, who we know from NYC, and one of Jordana's good friends from school) and have some Thai food.
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 another one. This one's my pensive and artsy "I'm acting like the camera's not there, but clearly I must know it is because I'm the one who took the picture" picture. Who's more emo than me? Motherfuck this photo diary nonsense, I'm gonna get me a LiveJournal. (ps - look at the two cutey patooties passed out next to me like little sleeping lambs. Teeheehee.)
...we arrived safely and without incident (save a slight yelling match between Grant and the rest of the passengers in the car who politely asked him if he would "SLOW THE FUCK DOWN SO DON'T HYDROPLANE OFF THE ROAD AND DIE FOR FUCK'S SAKE!") at Grant's parent's home and celebrated with some stiff drinks...
After fucking around for too long in Bali, we ended up having to make the 35 minute trip back to our condo at dusk (freezing our asses off the whole way). After dropping the bikes off and picking up our car, we headed to a nearby restaurant for an early dinner.
Looky, looky! What's going on here in this picture? After Grant was done giving her the "See, aren't we fun guys?" photo review, she quickly cozied up to tha Grizza.
With the leather-panted Gunther giving us the stinkeye from across the table we took a view pictures more pics without her in the background to try to throw him off our perv trail. By the way, ever notice how stuff like Coke, ketchup and McDonalds always taste not-so-great overseas? Well with beer, it works the other way around. The beer we are drinking is Amstel. (not Amstel light, regular Amstel) Maybe it was the crisp sea breeze or the abundance of badobnkadonk butts out there but it was hands down one of the best beers I've ever had.
The camera never lies. That's why the picture is blurred. But turn down a complimentary digestif in Greece and you might get your ass handed to you along with the check. Looks like we have some shots to drink. Oh well, here's to minimal liver damage.
When Fatty showed me the great mid-air picture he captured of me jumping of the rock, we decided we needed a picture of EVERYONE jumping off the rock. So without further ado, here we go!
Here's us bright and early out on our front porch enjoying a breakfast of Greek yogurt and granola. Mmmmmmmm. (ps - what's up, busted dudes in the morning?)
Live Show gets the thumbsdown! Here's us in the parking lot trying to assess the financial damage. Our four Russian "strippers" managed to fleece the four of us for a grand total of €120 in less than 20 minutes! And we still didn't manage to see any heines! We hopped in the car to drive the remaing 1/4 mile back to our resort, and in the moment of silence after we were finished laughing hysterically at what had just happened we all heard Grant say quietly to himself: "Hmmmmm. A hundred Euros, eh?" Hahahahaha.
On the way back to the car a little after 3am, we found another sidewalk snack shop and decided to get something to eat. We all ended up ordering the Cretan equivalent of (my favorite bo-bo NYC food) the infamous Rosario's "Frankie and Cheese." (special shout out to the Crowley brothers, Dens & J Crowley, who have both frequently use their web pages to expound upon the most excellent deliciousness of this culinary wonder of the Lower East Side)