Proprietor and emcee "Owen the Brummie" gives madd props where madd props is due with a double index finger hail. This was the exact moment where the Arlene Grocery foundations were thoroughly shaken for the first of four times on that fateful evening.
One dude in the front row was so overcome by my re-voicing of 'Maidens' tale of the subjugation of the indigenous North American tribes, he actually reached out with a view to tweak my trouser schnauzer. Possibly to check if I was for real.
You know, life's funny: One minute you're riding high at a fancy-smancy club in the West Village and dancing with a hot chick. And then just 10 minutes later...
Grant was sweating this chick for awhile, so after he finished his ridicu-normous-sized drink he mustered up enough liquid courage to go up and start dancing with her.
...er, sort of. Upon closer examination I realized that he while he was holding a cigarette and even putting it in his mouth and puffing purposely, he wasn't inhaling any of the smoke. When I teased him, he goes "I've never smoked a cigarette in my life."
On Saturday, while browsing for discounted Canadian porn, we found out about Grant's former life as a model for the "Mr. Jack: Hungy, Hard Sucking, Mouth! (complete with multi-variable vibration unit). Check that shit out, the resemblance is uncanny.
....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.
Six cheap Canadian beers later, Grant somehow figured out he could really do a DLR-style (David Lee Roth) jumpkick!!! Check out this shit I managed to capture mid-air.
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.).
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.
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).
And here's Isabella "Tookie" Robertson, the woman who came up for the idea for the surprise party, and who also ruined the surprise by inviting Grant to his own surprise party. HAHAHA!
On Friday, a bunch of us got together at Joey's and had a surprise party for Grant (except like I explained earlier, he already knew about it). So here's everyone pretending to surprise Grant....
At some point in the evening, we decided it would be funny for Grant to fall off his chair repeatedly and take pictures of it. (I don't know either...it sounded fun at the time, okay?). Here's the best of the lot.
Grant had already gone to bed, so we decided to bumrush his room (he was staying in my roommates room) and wake him up by screaming and throwing the severed mouse head in bed with him. Here he is caught by the flash mid-scream...
Four drinks later and (many hours later) and Grant finds himself locking lips with yet another "beaut." (The only thing funnier than this pic is Grant's reaction when I showed it to him days later...he didn't even remember being at this bar, nevermind the girl.).
Grant poses with what can only be described as the Prom Queen. (Ba-dum-dum Cha! Thank You! Thank you! I'll be here all weekend! Don't forget to tip your waitresses...)
Some stranger (who bears a creepy resemblance to face painted on the side of the old "Tunnel of Love" amusement building in Asbury Park, NJ...look below, see?), Emma, Grant & JimJazz.
We ended up getting stuck on the ridiculously hot subway platform for over an hour! Then, making matters worse, the subway kept stopping! It took us almost two hours just to get from Manhattan to Brooklyn.
The most obvious perk at an empty beach is that there aren't any people around. A less-realized, ancillary perk is that sometimes your female friends will take out their "perks" and sun them in front of you. Grant peeps over Sarah's bizzoobie.
Immediately afterwards, Grant decided to run into the water to "take a swim" (a.k.a - hide the big, beach boner he popped in his tight, little Euro-swimtrunks he got from STARING at Sarah's titties.)
Late Saturday evening, two of Grant's friends, James & Charlene, arrived from London. They hadn't seen the sun in months, so on Sunday morning, we got up bright and early and headed right back to the beach!
We showed up around 9pm and everyone there had pretty much been drinking all day...so instead of enjoying lovely conversation with new people, we just decided to fuck with the guests that had passed out. Here's Grant posing with our new buddy.
No stranger to whipping out my own bag, I handed over the camera and teamed up with Grant for this amazing photo. (Look at our faces!!! nd bonus points to me for actually resting my nuts on the guys chair.)
The next moring, Dave and Grant (aka - the bestest friends ever) came over to help me clean up. Check out Dave way in the background rocking out to Laura Branigan's "Gloria" while mopping.
