me + fatty

me×fatty×

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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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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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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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Then it was back to more sightseeing. Clark: "Look kids! Big Ben!"
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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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Group shot.
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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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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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Charlene called her friend Layla (who works for the company that promotes Carling Beer)...
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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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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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...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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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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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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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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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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Grant, Fatty, Colin (Big Daddy) and me.
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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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The Fatty (looking like a zombie from out of "The Night of the Living Dead") me, Vin (making the bestest face ever) and GrizzleMyNizzle.
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Thanks guys - I had an amazing night (and thank you too, Frances *wink*)!
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Reunited and it feels so right!
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I was trying to take a video of us rocking out but took a picture instead and managed to capture us in the midst of some pretty serious MetalFaces (check out Fatty pretending to play kit in the background with his DrummerFAce in full effect. Hahaha).
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One last pic with the New York Four.
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This is hands down my favorite pic of the night. Bert N' Tha Boyz.
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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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She was like "Why are you all laughing?" and started to walk away. I managed to convice her that we were just happy to meet such cute girls and Seth got his act together in time to snap this pic.
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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 headed to some god-awful outdoor Newport nightclub that was on the water.
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From L to R: Fatty, me, Colin, Frank and Grant.
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Ok, this photo's a bit redundant, but I only included it because check out Fatty surreptitiously making faces at his date. Hahahaha.
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Saturday night Grant made reservations for the Über-fancy restaurant, Suba. The food was so pretty, that our entries all merritted us all posing with them.
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Look! It's the ARMY OF DUDES. Can seven guys get into a nightclub on Friday night with only one female?
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Here's us teasing Colin about his nicknamed being changed from "Big Daddy" to "P.Dinky." (The entire story will be explained in a diary entry that probably won't be allowed to be realeased until the year 2030 *sigh*).
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Saturday morning, we woke up early, hopped the Amtrak train and headed out into dirty Jerz.
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So we're in the back of the bar and we see this guy (Scott Weinstein) who totally looks like a bizarro version of our friend Dave Fateman. (Click here to launch the comparison window).
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Thumbs up from the boys!
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Who loves you Big Daddy, eh? Who loves you?
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Which made Colin just a leeeetle jealous. So...
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Fatty couldn't resist getting of this last shot of Battjer rocking his tangerine shouldered ski jacket sans irony. The fucking balls on this kid. YOU GO GIRL!

THANKS FOR CAPTIONING THIS ENTRY FOR ME, GRANT!
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Here the New York Five homeward bound on Sunday evening.
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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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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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Doug, Colin (as a Hillbilly), me and Dave (who, as he put it, was dressed as "some random punk-rocker type, um, guy or something").
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Dave and I repraZent on the law enforcement tip, yo.
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?