fatty


showing 2003 only · show all years
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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.
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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)
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... and of course, David "The Fatty" Fateman!
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Here we are, four dudes surrounded by nothing but totally hot women from a Greek island who want to have NOTHING TO DO WITH US. Liberia's got nothing on us, THIS is hell on earth.
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Here's our car for the week! A Peugeot 307 hatchback. Check out Fatty enjoying the warm Cretan breeze on his face (which was such a nice change after having been in London freezing our asses off not 10 hours ago).
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Being that all the road signs were in Greek, we elected Chris to drive. We packed up the car, busted out the map, and started the 80 kilometer drive from Heraklion to Rethymnon.
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"Parliament!"
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...and then got the hell off that windy-ass bridge.
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We hurriedly snapped a few more pics (Here's me wearing Westminster Abbey as a hat)...
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...the center emergency row! Let's hear it for extra leg room. Awww, yeah.
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...and grabbed the train to Heathrow to catch our 10:20pm flight and kick off the next leg of the trip: Crete!
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...packed up our stuff...
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Clark: "Look kids! Big Ben!"
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After our beers, we walked over into Chinatown to get lunch.
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We chatted up the totally cute Greek girls working the Olympus Airlines ticketing counter and they hooked the four of us up with...
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After that, we hopped back onto the tube, headed back to Charlene's flat...
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Hi, we're tourists.
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Grammy Pammy, Fatty and Chris.
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Then it was back to more sightseeing. Clark: "Look kids! Big Ben!"
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After Grant's family took off, we popped into a cafe for a quick cup of coffee...
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London being London, it started raining just a few minutes after we got off the tube. We looked around for umbrellas and these were the only ones we could find. "Haaaaaaaaaaaay!"
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Fatty grabbed this pic of us too busy eating to look up. (Oh, and Charlene was with us too but for some reason she's hiding in all these pics!).
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Reunited! Grant had been in LA working on a TV show and we hadn't seen him in about a month. He arrived in London in the morning and woke our asses up. We showered, got dressed, and headed around the corner to a "builder's diner" right around the corner from her flat and we all ordered...
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I'm guessing this had to be a Van Halen song? (Check out Fatty pretending to play his guitar around Grant like he's in a Poison video. Hahaha.).
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Yes, Hallelujah! It's raining men!
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Charlene doing her impression of the guy who let us in.
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Group shot.
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Here's Fatty singing "It's Raining Men."
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After dinner, we stayed in Soho and upon Charlene's suggestion, decided to see if we could talk our way into the Kingly Club (which is this private, uber-exclusive, membership-only club that had only opened a few days ago). The rest of the group hung back and Charlene and I headed for the door to attempt to crash the club.
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So in the course of shooting the shit with Tony Chambers, it came up that we had wanted to sing karaoke that night but that the only place that we knew of had already closed. Tony leaned in close and in a conspirital tone told us about a private, karaoke speakeasy he knew of that operated afterhours on the second floor of a tiny, nearby sushi bar. After promising we'd keep it secret, he disclosed to us the location. (Looking back, he was probably just totally psyched to have our loud, American, clearly NOT VIP-asses out of his little private, members only backroom!)
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After a nap and some tea, we all met up later that night for pre-dinner drinks at a bar called The Social. L to R: Grant, Danni, Chris, Kate (I think), Layla, Fatty, Charlene and Grant Morris.
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At this point not only were we ridiculously over tired, we were drunk taboot. We pleaded for Charlene to take us home and put us to bed.
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GRANT! It was one thing for Lil' Buddy to miss out on Iceland, but a free, surprise concert of his favorite live band? That was just too much.
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Before heading to the concert, we decided to break out the bottle of Brennivin we'd given Charlene and give it a try. Not heeding the advice of the woman who sold us the bottle who told us to "make sure we drank it out from the freezer."
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Why yes, there is: The Fatty with a group of German ACDC fans. These guys were fucking hardcore. They got wind of the surprise show in Munich that morning and flew over on a whim.
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Fatty and Chris waiting for the tube.Me and Charlene. We hopped the tube from Charlene's place (the Caledonian Road stop)...
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Hans, me and Fatty. Hahahaha. Soooooo good.
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Fatty gives Charlene and "Oh my god you're the fucking best" smooch.
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Charlene called her friend Layla (who works for the company that promotes Carling Beer)...
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On the train we voted against bringing our luggage to the concert for fear that there'd be no place to put it (As much as we wanted to catch the ACDC concert in it's entirety, the thought all of our luggage getting lost in the fray was too much of a risk, even for us). So we hopped a quick cab back to Charlene's flat (that's fancy British talk for "apartment") to drop off our bags.
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Fatty, Charlene, Layla's boyfriend, Me, Layla, and ______.
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7:54pm: We arrived at Heathrow totally cracked out. We were so tired that we decided that we were going to tell Charlene that we were up for maybe grabbing one drink but then after that we needed to get some sleep. (Time Elapsed With Only 15 minutes of Sleep: 28h 24m)
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Oh, and it was really windy.
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Here's the entrance to the spa. The spa is this huge, brand new building that surrounds the 16,000 sqaure foot swimming lagoon.
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10:45am: When we had driven into Reykjavik earlier that morning the darkness had hidden the alieness of the Icelandic countryside. In the daylight, it was absolutely breathtaking. Rocky fields made up of lava rock covered in electric green moss stretched in all directions. We were so blown away that we eventually decided to pull over and take some pictures. (Time Elapsed With No Sleep: 20h 15m).
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The lagoon from three quarters of the way up.
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Chris and The Fatty.
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Fatty and Chris walking back down to our car.
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The swim also made us totally stupid tired. (No sleep + Warm Dehydrating Bath = Almost Inability to Speak). But we rallied yet again to go outside and climb the big hill that over looks the spa complex.
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Look at our cold, red, saltwater-irritated faces. Ouchie.
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After the museum, Smari remembered that he'd only put a few minutes of time in the meter back at the Tjorn, because he'd only been planning on being there for a few minutes. So we all headed back to the Tjorn.
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The Fatty.
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Here's me taking a picture of Fatty taking a picture of one of the smaller, detailed sculptures.
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Then Smari took us to the Hallgrimskirkja church, the tallest building in the city.
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I should also at this point tell you all that we carried Fatty's rad little MiniDV video camera with us throughout the entire trip and we ended up shooting just over 14 hours of tape (which I'm in the process of editing into a full-length video diary). Over the next few months I'll be posting some of the choice clips from it. Woo.
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8:02am (yep, still dark). We made it to downtown Reykjavik (the world's northernmost capital) and parked our teeny-tiny Eurocar in a public lot near the Tjörn, which is a big, man-made lake in the center of the oldest part of town.

We didn't manage to get a picture of him, but on the walk over to the Tjörn, this thirty-something year-old guy, who had what looked like a giant lobotomy scar running horizontally across his forehead, ran up to us and said "Where are you from?" in perfect English. "New York City," we told him. "Oh, yeah? What do you do?" Me: "I work at a software company." He then leaned in really close towards my face and asked, "A SOFTware company, or a softWARE company?" Then cackled maniacally and ran away.
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...and then the realization that we were actually IN ICELAND hit us. Iceland! Oh, snap.
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Miraculously, he managed to avoid getting a ticket (but he did accidentally lock himself out of the car...Doh!). We thanked him for the tour (it's still one of the nicest things a stranger has ever done for me - so Smari, if you read this, thanks again!) and then told him that we were thinking about checking out the Blue Lagoon on the way back to catch our flight but that the lady at the rental car place had seemed underwhelmed when we asked her about it. Smari told us "Fuck that lady. If there's only one thing you could see in Iceland, it should be the Blue Lagoon. Don't miss it. Go there now." That settled it. We bid Smari farewell, and headed for Grindavik.
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We were starting to feel a little tired on the plane, but we totally rallied and got a second wind the minute we stepped off the plane (must've been that reindeer meat finally kicking in).
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After we got our money all squared away, we headed over to Hertz and rented a car. We told the woman at the counter that we only had a few hours and we asked her if, besides Reykjavik, there was anything that we should be sure not to miss in the short time we had. She was like "Eh, not really." So we were like, "What about that Blue Lagoon place? We saw video about it on the plane and it looked amazing! Is that worth checking out?" Once again we were met with a tepid "Eh, it's ok" and a shrug. (We wrote off her lethargy as an effect of the less than four hours of sunshine Iceland receives during its winter days).
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7:25am: Lost. We were right on target until the highway we were on turned into this crazy-ass rotary that shot us off in the wrong direction. We stopped at a gas station for directions, but nobody there spoke enough English to be helpful - so we hunkered down with the map and tried to figure it out. (Check out Fatty's priceless "We're lost" expression).
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6:40am (local time and still pitch black out). We spent the hour-long drive into Reykjavik betting on what time the sun would rise. Price Is Right rules in effect: the one who managed to come closest, without going over would be declared the winner. It was then agreed upon that the winner would get to make out with Gemma, Grant's hot little sister, (mmmmmm....Gemma) when we stopped at Grant's parent's house in Essex on the last leg of our trip. But then we all remembered that Gemma had a boyfriend. (Booooo).
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We spent our cab ride discussing tricks and traps we could employ to scare the crap out of Grant and capture it on tape.
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I arrived at the Fatty's around 2:30ish to find him doing some last minute packing. (We had both gotten up that morning around 10am - Time Elapsed With No Sleep: 4h 30m).
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Fatty. Ahhh, much better!
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9:29pm: Night portraits....somewhere over the Atlantic.
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Fatty's big plan was to pop a few Tylenol PM and sleep for the entire flight. But for some reason, he didn't stay asleep. He managed to get, oh, about 25 minutes of sleep before he was awaken by the stewardess who wanted to know what we wanted for dinner.
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And Fatty, not having a new camera, played around with his phone cam.
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Boarding.
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...taking a picture of him. Hi, we're dorks.
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Before getting in the cab, we neurotically checked to make sure we had our passports with us for the 11th time. You know, just in case one of us had somehow managed to loose it on the 25ft trek from Fatty's apartment to the street.
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We headed to the McDonalds around the corner from his house to say goodbye to America properly. Aw yeah, Big Mac.
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4:13pm: Outside of Fatty's apartment, bags all packed and double-checked we coldlamped for one last photo before hailing a cab.
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We spent the next half an hour going through all of our checklists and making sure that we had everything we needed.
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The Fatty singing into his beer.
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Fatty and Susan.
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"Thank you and goodnight, New York City. We'll be back in just a few weeks."
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...Fatty stepped up and was like "No, wait. Let me show you how that move's really done."
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We met these two as we were leaving. They were in town from England and when they heard that we were getting ready to take a trip there, they became our new best friends. The guy in the scarf was so drunk that we're actually holding him up in this pic.
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On the way out Counter gave Fatty a goodbye hug and assured him he'd keep watch over his Jdate harem.We met these two as we were leaving. They were in town from England and when they heard that we were getting ready to take a trip there, they became our new best friends. The guy in the scarf was so drunk that we're actually holding him up in this pic.
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After Fatty was finished informing his harem of cyber-Jewesses that he was going to be out of town for a coupla weeks, we headed over to Pianos where we ran into my friend Susan.
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Which quickly led to doing stupid stuff with Fatty's Jack-o-Lanterns that he had carved the day before.
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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.
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Hahaha.
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Hahaha. Holy busted photo.
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For whatever reason, I only took one photo all day on Saturday; of Fatty and I going sunglasses shopping after our brunch. Dig my new look?
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Then the guests started showing up! Here's The Fatty and Zara.
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Colin (Big Daddy) and Dave (The Fatty).
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The Fatty and Sarah.
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It started off with a phone call - I was awoken Saturday morning by Grant who put out the word to the Fatty and me: Saturday brunch was to be held downtown...waaaaaaay downtown. That's right y'all...
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Oh, and somewhere along the way we decided that our 1/2 pound burgers and plates of fries just wouldn't be complete unless we each ordered a bowl of chili too.
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A few minutes later, Colin realized he'd missed one of his quarter-hourly sunblock applications and we had to evacuate the beach before he spontaneously combusted. Um, either that or it was just getting late - I forget which.
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Fatty about to take a swim.
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Grant, Fatty, Colin (Big Daddy) and me.
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Ummm...and then later that night we all went to a party at Sarah's new apartment. Grant and I took a whole bunch of funny pictures on Sarah's camera but she never sent them to me and this is the only pic I took on my camera. So, the end!

Addendum! January 3, 2004
So I finally got around to getting some of Sarah's photos from that same night. Here are some of the pics from her cam!
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And here's Fatty waving his arm so fast that it's actually blurring with speed. Talk about action, that's more like it.
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Later on, we got a call from the Fatty who wanted to know what we were up to. "Taking stupid pictures of us kicking stuff in Chinatown," we told him. Without a pause Fatty was like "Awesome, I'll be there in ten." True to his word, Fatty was on the scene in less than ten minutes. (Courtesy of his bike and shiny, silver helmet).
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Fatty posing with the nice ladies who tried to kill us. (Death by consumption).
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And so this is how our simple journey for a little KFC turned into an bacchanalia of gluttony. Fatty gets to work on his umpteenth piece.
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Sometimes those late night food tv commercials can straight fuck your night up. Grant and I were at my house watching tv, trying to figure out what to get for dinner, and all of a sudden this KFC commercial comes on. We both started drooling and were like, "Let's get that (points to TV)." The nearest KFC is up on 14th and 1st (about 20 blocks from my place) so on the walk up, we called the Fatty and he joined us. We got to that KFC only to find it closed early for construction. We remember that there was another KFC on 14th near 6th Ave. Craving chicken, we braved on. As we went up to order, the lady told us, "We're closing - but if you want, I'll give you two buckets of chicken, biscuits and three sodas for ten bucks." SOLD! Cha-ching!