grant + me

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grant + me
Here's Grant sending me off. Goodbye California!
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Grant and I with Harlan Martin! (Best picture ever).
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Me and Grant dishing some double-lovin' to the lovely Jen Ehrman.
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Here's Steve, Grant and myself posing for a pic (which was really just an excuse to try to cop a feel of the faux-Britney's vinyl-clad arse).
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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!).
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But eventually we won them over with our cityboy charms
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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).
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Yay.
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Bee Gee Cowboy.
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After food we went back to the ranch and relaxed. Then later that night we drove to the nearest theater (like 45 minutes away) to see the midnight showing of the third installment of the Lord of the Rings trilogy. (Bonus points to Grant for flipping the bird while pulling a Pomodoro Guy face! Noice!).
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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.
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Hahaha. So funny. Clockwise from the Grizza: Fatty, Jamye, Al, me and Uncle Ira.
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Here's Grant and I in Ira's kitchen. We were all crabby from our drive and if I remember correctly were pretty much ready to fight each other (I'd SOOOO win) when this mutual "get a load of this fuggin' guy" photo was taken.
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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.
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After brunch, Grant and I met up with Pappa Ross and took Dash for a stroll down the the boardwalk at Santa Monica (I think).
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Friday night the three of us went out to The Short Stop in West Hollywood Echo Park...
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Me, Mr. and Mrs. Jamie Kijowski and Grizza.
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With one final pic of the fantasic four, we said goodbye to Grant (who was staying behind in London for another couple of days) and....
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With our time together disappering almost as fast as our delicious french fries, Grant gives me a "Be brave with out me" thumbs up.
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Shuttlebus from the rental car drop-off to the terminal.
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Saturday morning we woke up, double checked our packed bags, thanked Grant's parents for their hospitality, and hit the road for Heathrow.
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Saturday, Chris was in town and the four of us got together for brunch at 9th Street Market to reminisce about our recent hijinx in Europe.
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We posed for one last group photo before all going our separate ways. Let's hear it for Halloween 2003. Wooooo!
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We wanted to eat lots of stinky, spicy Indian food - that way if none of us managed to pull in the clubs later that night, we could all blame it on our kicking BREAFFF! (Hey, it worked in Greece, right?)
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...but eventually, even he, the videogame detractor, couldn't help but get caught up in the frenzy of excitement that is SILENT SCOPE 2.
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Grant was standoffish at first....
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....ARCADE TIME! (Look at Grant and Chris peeking out in the background. Hahaha).
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...ESSEX! That's right! We were heading out to Grant's parent's house in Essex to hang with his family and so he could show us around Corringham, the town he spend his formative years in.
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After a few England-bound hours in the air, it was time for ANOTHER MEAL! Wooooo! Who loves airline food more than us?
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...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...
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Despite all of my SUSPICIOUS CAMERA ACTIVITY I somehow managed to make it aboard the plane. Wait, where's the Fatty?
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We bid our lovely condo a fond farewell and piled into our sweet, lil' rental one last time.
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Once in the airport, we grabbed a quick slice...
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With a fistfulla cone, we bid a last fond-farewell to Rethymnon.
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Hahahah.
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How did Megadeth manage to never write a song about this?
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Our bellies full of warm doughnut, we hit the open road. We decided to take a 45 km backroads trip to check out the bad-ass Arkadi Monastery and then from there, if we had enough light, ride another 25 km and check out the Melidoni Caves.
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Seasoned veterans at this point in the trip, we even managed to drink our raki without so much as a grimmace. Opa! Opa!
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If you look closely, you can just barely see Grant peeking out between me and Fatty.
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"Yep, you're right Brian. You totally do need to cut off your silly, hippy hair."
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Then back near the car, we goofed off and took some pictures of us on the sea wall.
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We drove back into downtown Rethymnon, parked the car, and headed back over to...
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After a few songs I gave up and headed back to our table on the sidelines to coldlamp with my boys.
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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.
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Throwing down for the cam.
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Me, Tymber and tha Grizza.
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Yaaaaay, Amstel.
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We got outside and after a quick "Charlie's Angels" pose for the cam, Grant and Tymber made plans to meet up out front of the club the next morning at 11am and then head to the beach together.
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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.
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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.
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Fatty managed to snap a pic of the Grizza and I in a golden slumber before we got some breakfast and hit the road. (Luckily he wasn't there to capture the Golden Shower that had gone on a few minutes earlier).
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Aw, yeah. Let's hear it for culture.
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We lament not checking with the dancing piranha people before scheduling our trip.
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Me doing a Sweep the Leg Johnny Crane kick on the rock.
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The beginning of sunset.
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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?)
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Hungry boys.
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After we plowed our way through our second carafe of the red...
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Afterwards we walked around the surrounding area...
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...quickly digressed into another Sears' Catalog-inspired photo shoot. "Look! Over there!" "No! Look over there!"
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Turns out, the highway was way less scary than the little road we'd been riding through town. On the little road, we were forced to ride in the sketchy, pothole ridden shoulder, where we constantly had to worry about cars pulling out in front of us and dogs that were running around in the street. But on the highway there was hardly any traffic and the shoulder was wide and smoothly paved. (By the way, you know you totally love my wind-styled Farrah Fawcett wings. They're the latest in cycling fashion.)
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Heltmets? Check. We had originally planned on driving west to a nearby city called Hania but when we looked more carefully at the map, we realized it was over 75 km away (which is really far by scooter). So we instead decided to head to Balí, a small beach town about 35 km away.
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After a quick lesson from Chris, Grant wowed us all with his ability to do the "It's Windy!" trick!
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After our quick half-time show, we decided to try our luck in one more bar. Upon returning from the bathroom upstairs, Fatty actually managed to capture with his camera the Force Field that was physically preventing all girls from seeing us (nevermind actually letting them get close enough to dance with us). Once he showed us this pic, we knew we'd better just call it a night.
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Not wanting to make me feel bad, Chris was quick to throw down with a quick "See, not only pussies have to hang from window?" show of solidarity. What a fuggin guy, eh?
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Around midnight, we finally got motivated enough to all hop into the car and drive into downtown Rethymnon. We sat at an outdoor cafe right on the water, had some coffee and chocolate cake, then around 1am we started roaming the streets looking for some interesting bars or clubs to hit.
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With no girls in sight, here's Grant blatantly busted leering at me. So gay!
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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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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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...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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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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Then it was back to more sightseeing. Clark: "Look kids! Big Ben!"
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Our schtick was apparently so convincing that they even seated us in one of the cool private rooms in the back (that we ended up sharing with Tony Chambers, the Creative Director for Wallpaper Magazine. Oooooooooh! Fancy!)
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After our failed attempt to find cheap "dressy shoes," (FUCK, London's expensive!), Grant and I decided to head back to Charlene's and relax while Fatty and Chris decided to stay behind, do some more sight seeing and go to Guitar Center and impress the locals by shredding on the guitars there (Too bad you think I'm kidding).
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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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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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Grant and I giving props to our man Jack (aka - Crazy Pomodoro Guy). Oh, and somewhere right around this time, Layla got all huffy about something and decided to just leave without telling anyone. (Wtf?).
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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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Just me and tha Grizza.
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Grant, Fatty, Colin (Big Daddy) and me.
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And then, well, shit you knew it was coming. Lucky for me the drawstring on his shorts is almost completely obscuring his bitsy ballsack.
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While we slept, Grant apparently decided to get all artsy with them cam. Artsy Photo #1
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I have no idea why I'm pulling that face - maybe I was singing?
karaoke with seth
September 02, 2003
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Frank, me, and Grant.
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Yep, and this one too. (Although, now that I think about it, I think we all might have been singing the four-part back up bit to Aerosmith's "Love In An Elevator" in these last two.)
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How do you turn two baby-tees into muscle-tees? Easy! You just put them on two huge, musclebound hulks of men.
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Here's me leaning in and making eating noises trying to get Grant to make good on his threat. (I figured worse case scenario, if he actually did throw up, we could just put one of the huge soda-pails in front of him to catch the mess!).
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After we polished off the first bucket, Grant was feeling pretty sick. Fatty and I started on the second bucket and Grant was like "Please stop eating you guys. Seriously. I'm so full the sound of you eating is going to make me throw up."
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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!
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Here she is ladies and gents - Emily Scarlet Kramer. One of the three people responsible for the whole Cake thingy.
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Wait a minute...what's that playing up there on the ginormous big-screen TV...
cake party part four
August 27, 2003
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Opting to avoid any drama, Grant and I quickly said hi and then we ran away.
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At 8:59pm, just as we sat down on a bench to eat our dinner the power was finally restored to Soho and the Lower East Side (we were the last neighborhoods in all of NYC to get it restored going a whoppoing 28 hours and 28 minutes without it)! As the lights came up all around us, people everywhere were laughing and clapping and cheering and singing. Yay, power!
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A little bit later, a squinty, cranky Tara showed up and Grant and I tried to entertain her by...
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Hot, sweaty and tired in a way that only comes from having recent, unwanted proximity to another man's plumbag, we plunked our party down at a table outside in the back patio.
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Also, try to keep in mind that it's like 95 degrees outside. As our office started heating up (no AC, remember?), I decided to lay down and take a nap and wait for the power to come back on. I must've fallen into a deep sleep, because Grant managed to brain me pretty good. He loses points for not having my face in the pic, tho. (Thank god).