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!).
Fatty, seen here double fisting, was getting pretty drunk at this point in the night. I remember him turning to me, nudging me yet again and pointing out his favorite, older blonde lady and saying "Dude, I think I realized why she's so hot. She totally looks like Stifler's Mom!"
...and refugee groupies from the 80s! Awwww, yeah! (This lady was awesome - she was totally all over Fatty. Fatty was laughing, but at the same time he was all nervous because she was there with a bunch of scary looking dudes. Check out how Fatty's all got his arms up in the air like "I'm not touching her, see? She is the one touching me!")
Here's Grant nursing a couple of beers as he got up the courage to ask some of the burly men for their best tips on how to get women to have anal sex, etc.
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).
Grant and the Fatty on theirs. Now, one thing to keep in mind - the horses we were riding weren't wimpy petting zoo horses that have been ridden by hundreds of people. These horses were broken, but don't get ridden all that often - and when they do get ridden, they're ridden by real cowboys who know how to handle them. So in the beginning, we each had to spend quite a bit of time with our horses pretending like we knew how to act like we were in charge.
We got to North Fork and met up with Fatty and Grant's good friend Aaron Schmidt who had driven up from San Diego to visit with his boys. We dropped our stuff off at the ranch house and by the time we'd driven back into town (around 10pm, mind you) the only place open that was serving food was McDonalds (where the heat wasn't working). Here's us with Aaron "Double A" Schmidt eating and freezing.
Fatty took himself a little post-McDonalds nappity nap and opened his eyes just in time to see Grant taking a picture of him as lead star in the first braining of our California adventure.
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.
At first you thought that this photo was repetitive and not worth including...and then you looked again and noticed Fatty's ridiculous expression in the background and suddenly everything made sense.
On the walk over we tried to distract Grant from wondering if he was on his way to a surprise party by having a contest to see who could most closely mimic the running and jumping mural figures on 2nd St between B & C. Here's Fatty's attempt.
As you can tell by his face in this photo, Grant knew something was up. Emma and Lo called as planned, but dinner was taking too long. As I kept trying to rush things along, Grant kept saying things like "Why the rush? Why are we in such a hurry?" All smarmy-like.
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.)
Better yet, Fatty was smelling the flowers on our table when he got too close and ended up getting pollen all over his nose. (PS - Go see Shrek 2. When Shrek gets turned into a human...oooops....SPOILER!.....the human version of Shrek looks exactly like Fatty. Seriously. It's fucking hilarious).
On Wednesday Grant came back from London (he stayed behind to hang with his parents after our vacation ended, remember?) and was going to be in NYC for a few days (one of which we threw him a surprise party) before heading back to Los Angeles to do some final work oh his television pilot (nope, so not kidding). That night Fatty, (the rarely photographed) Michael Martin and myself all met up with Grant at the nearby Congee Village for some tasty dinner.
The group headed outside for our last round of goodbyes. With the exception of Grant who was staying behind for a few more days to hang with his family, the rest of us were heading back to the States in the mornin
And hey, I bet you'd completely forgotten that this was Halloween night. We'd almost forgotten too - or at least until Charlene and Dave found these creepy masks that the put on. (This was our first Halloween in two years that we didn't get to attend Viola's "My Friends are All Out of Your League" Supermodel Party. See: Halloween 2001 and Halloween 2002.)
Awww, yeah - check tha setup! Awwww, look how cute Grant's mom is all displaying the food with the boys. (And be forewarned, anybody making remarks about Moms in the comments section will be promptly banned. In the words, of the Wise Fatty, "Dat shit ain' coo'!")
After spending too much money at the arcade (those pound coins certainly aren't US quarters) we went the the nearby "Under the Arches" restaurant and got our fish and chips (Because it's just not a shore experience until you've had something deep-fried).
Here's Fatty's "meat from three different animals with cheese" sandwich. He's going to put this pic up on JDate to subtly communicate to the ladies that he doesn't keep kosher. Bad Jew! Baaaad!
...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...
(Update: Ok, in Grant's
defense I have to post something from an email he just sent clarifying
why he was worried about the whole plane thing. Turns out he
wasn't worried that I'd be mistaken for a a terrorist,
he was worried that they were going to think I was
a spy. In
his email he included a link to story on the
BBC
news website about 14 "planespotters," people that
take pictures of airplanes as a hobby, that were
just convicted
of "espionage" after being arrested for taking pictures
of Greek military planes during an airshow there. Ka-ka-kuh-razy!
Good
looking out, Grizza. Sorry.)
Being that we were leaving Crete in the morning to head back to the UK, we decided to take one more trip into Rethymnon to walk around and get some ice cream.
Back at the condo after dinner, Fatty managed to get off a fairly decent braining while Grant took a nap. He was about to lean in closer, but Grant woke up (This kid's so high-strung a mouse fart'd wake him up).
Not completely happy with the shaky, hand-held quality of the previous "Scootering" footage we'd shot a few days earlier, Chris strapped the camera to the back of my bike so we could film our mountainous ascent on the coastal backroads. (I'll get around to posting clips of this someday. Don't worry, with the exception of Grant trying to brain we while I'm squatting down and talking to the bike-mounted cam, you're really not missing much).