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At Grant's request, Frank treated us to a little demonstration of his very special style of "dancing."
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After BBQ goodness we gathered in Frank's room and took turns trying to name a song that he couldn't play on the vibes. In the end, we didn't stump him once and it ended up turning into a 45 minute impromptu karaoke session almost as much fun as the last time this happened (minus Tracy Morgan of course).
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Here's Fatty telling his amazing story (complete with hand gestures) about a Russian girl he'd met through online dating who was only interested in getting her "rear emmissions checked" (if you know what I'm sayin'). Look at Frank's face, he's totally caught in the middle of saying "Duuuuude."
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After Chris and Mandy's, we walked three blocks over to Frank and Colin's apartment to eat more food at their BBQ! Here's Grant, Liz and Frank.
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Frank Picarazzi showed up late night to represent.
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That, my friends, is the look of defeat.
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One last pic with the New York Four.
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The Six of us looking surprisingly not-hungover (um, expcept for Fatty).
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Back at the hotel...
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Thumbs up from Bert. (This guy was awesome, earlier in the night when he drove us out we learned that he had graduated from MIT with a degree in theoretical math but lost his job, and was driving the bus on the weekends to earn a little extra money).
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This is hands down my favorite pic of the night. Bert N' Tha Boyz.
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When Frank started dancing on the bar, we knew it was time to head home.
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We summoned Bert, our driver, and piled into the van for the big 3 mile trip home (bonus points to Frank for picking his nose).
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Then the bartender, Frank, Colin and Seth sang the theme song to "The Jeffersons" (movin' on up...) in four-part harmony.
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As "last call" drew nearer, we bid the lovely ladies a fond farewell and hit the road to head over to some other bar where Seth and Frank knew the owner (If you look in the background behind my arm you can see Seth showing off the can of beer he snuck out of the bar by strategically hiding it in his asscrack. Sweet.)
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And here's another clutch shot of Frank's "tan." These guys are putting the "melon" in "melanoma."`
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So we chatted them up for a while, found out that they were down on vacation from Braintree, Mass (and Fatty made some more "Fatty" faces).
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Frank (also sporting a little, um, color) and me.
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We headed out to some restaurant on the water of dinner and some drinks. Yay, drinks!
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After months of getting people to willingly pose with my balls, it was time to try something new: getting unsuspecting people to unknowingly pose with my balls. I discreetly whipped out my bag, and grabbed one of our new friends for a picture. I handed off the cam to Seth who totally shit the bed by not managing to get my balls in the pic. Doh! The rest of the guys in the pic (Check out Grant and Franks' faces) were laughing so hard that the girl in the black shirt was totally confused...
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After dinner, we once again failed miserably to integrate with the fellow Newportians...
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...backup arrived in the form of Seth, fresh outta the car from Boston. (Bonus points to Frank for pulling that shit-eating grin.)
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After the beach, Fatty made the mistake of trying to catch a quick nap amidst a roomful of rowdy guys. Check out Big Daddy calling in for back-up while Frank gives Fatty a lil' "hot dog in the bun through the sheet" action...
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Thumbs up!
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During our delicious continental breakfast at the hotel in the morning, we saw this 80 year old woman who had on a big, ol' chain-link necklace. When overheard her (indiscernable from a distance) foreign accent, we started wondering if maybe she was one of the Sex Pistols' Nana. So we enlisted Frank to go up and get her pic, just in case. Once again we employed our fool-proof "you look just like my Great Aunt So-and-So, can I please take your picture?" Works like a charm.
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Earlier in the evening, we had spotted the guy in the middle, sporting a blonde molester-moustache and a BFLB (Bald Front, Long Back: pronounced beffle-bee), and we wanted to take his pic too. Turns out he was best friends (wouldn't you know it) with the leather vest guy and he soon joined are tight-knit group of outcasts.
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From L to R: Fatty, me, Colin, Frank and Grant.
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I know I bring this up everytime I post pics of this place - but seriously, look at this pic. Can you believe this is about 10 miles from Manhattan?
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Ah, yet another day trip out to the lovely Ft. Tilden with Frank, Colin, Liz and Grizzle.
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Frank (doing what he calls) driving on the way back home.
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Late, late in the day, Fatty showed up with some Russian girl that'd he'd met earlier on the week, but he didn't hang out with us becuase he was on a "date." We all left together, though. From L to R: Liz, Grant, Erica, Fatty, his Russian date, and there's Seven Layer down at the bottom.
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Later on in the afternoon, Frank and Liz came out and met up with us. Here's Frank striking "sexy beach pose #482."
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While we all squared off in two-person team competition...
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Afterwards, it was time for Seth to go solo with a little "New York State of Mind" action.
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Frank can pretty much play any song you can name on the vibes (and Antonio Di Lullo's the same on guitar) so it wasn't long before Frank started inviting people up for some impromptu karaoke accompaniment. Here's Amanda cutting loose.
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Then out of the blue, Steve Hayes, Jetsetera's long-lost fourth member showed up...
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Here's the lesser-seen "sideways DLR (that's David Lee Roth, playa) kick."
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...and the original Jetsetera line up took the stage for the first time in over three years for a four-way karaoke re-enactment of the seminal Van Halen song, "Hot For Teacher." (In order to really appreciate that last caption, you have to hear me say it in my Casey Kasem voice.)
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A night of karaoke ecstasy was had by all.
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Here's Frank Picarazzi (in a tuxedo shirt, no less) who insisted the prompter be turned off while he was singing because he was, "going 'off book'" for her schmoking version of Lionel Ritchie's "All Night Long."
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Frank was telling stories about how when he was heavier back in college he used to be able to lick his own tit. It only took a tiny bit of prompting before Seven Layer busted out ye old titty to see if he still had "it" in him (he came up about five inches shy. Drat!).
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Frank, Colin helping Dave schlepp schtuff up into his fancy new digs on the corner of 1st & St. Marks (that he bought. Player's got bank, yo).
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Moving Day! The crew headed uptown to Fatty's apartment to help him move out (because good friends always help their friends move). After all the heavy lifting was done, Frank serenaded us on the uke'.
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Complete with Townsendesque air-guitar strums.
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Frank "Seven Layer" Picarazzi doing The Who's "My Generation."
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Lo's "Total Eclipse of the Heart" sparked candles of adornment.
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Mostly, it was an excuse to eat lots of food. I don't think we even made it halfway through the game. We ended up watching the "To Live and Date in New York: Part II" (let's hear it for the MetroChannel, aw yeah) and intermittenly flipping back over to the game to watch the commercials.
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Here the New York Five homeward bound on Sunday evening.
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Back in tha lizzimo.
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Seth, Seven Layer (sans bib), Grant and me.
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The band formerly known as Jetsetera poses for a snow-ridden stroll down Mammary Lane.
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Oh, and mirrored ceilings. You gotta have mirrored ceilings.
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Saturday night we went the Quatro steakhouse where we all prompty fell in love with...
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....a night out on the town! Seth being a pimped-ass high roller, he called in to have a limo chaffeur our asses around all night. Nothing says class like a white-stretch with neon underrunners, baby.
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After a hard day of shopping and further sullying the repuations of Americans in general, we went back to our fancy hotel and got all dressed up for...
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In Montreal, we met up with the three other guys (who drove in from Boston). Seth (the guy next to me), Chef (not pictured because he's being blocked by Fatty's head) and the uber-scary (and therefore edited out of most of the pictures) Ethan (gee, can you figure out which guy is the sociopath in the pic...c'mon, look carefully.).
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Here's the New York Five, coldlamping in front of our pimpin' rented Blazer. From Left: Grant, Dave "Fatty" Fateman, Colin "Big Daddy" Gentle and Frank "Seven Layer" Picarazzi.
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Seven Layer put on a fancy shirt and wasn't about to get clam sauce all over it...check him shamelessly sporting the fucking Guinea Bib. Molto bello, fuckhead! (PS - Bonus Points to Grant for an amazing "get a load of this fuggin' guy" face).
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Frank "The Fridge" Picarazzi keeping my bizzeer cold.
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Grant, Frank and Nina. Frank took one of those "fake butt" things, cut out eye holes, glued wig-hair all over it, attached a strap-on dildo, and transformed his entire head into a giant cockn'balls. I'm not really sure what the Star Trek shirt had to do with anything...
I edited together this montage of some choice cuts of the hits from the evening. (My favorite moment is Fatty's expression at 3:20) Enjoy! Track listing:
1. Christmas Wrapping
2. I Can't Go for That
3. Christmas Wrapping (part 2)
4. Head Over Heels
5. Plush
6. Peace on Earth / Ziggy Stardust
7. Let's Go
8. Fairytale Of New York
9. Creep
10. Don't You Want Me
11. Do They Know It's Christmas?