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Ladies, you know him, you love him...and if you live in NYC, he's probably gotten drunk and tried to play grab-ass with you - it's Greg the Boyfriend! (Yo, besides Sarah's blog, Greg is the only other person I know whose website I actually read. If you haven't been there, go now.)
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Around 5am, I headed a few blocks north up to Don Hill's to go see Sarah who was DJing at the Burning Angel New Year's party. Here's me with Sarah and Raphael.
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Me (complete with gay camo hat?) and Liz.
new year's eve
December 31, 2003
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...and taking stupid pictures...
new year's eve
December 31, 2003
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...more stupid pictures.
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Here's Vin getting ready to light what he's betting me $20 will be his "last cigarette...EVER!" (Update: He managed to make it for six days before he had to hand over a Mr. Jackson.)
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Take two! This time with more attitude and less Ken.
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Yay, I have friends! I have friends! Clockwise from top left: Vin, Ken, Dave, me, Audrey and Julia.
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Saturday night, Emily and I put on our fancy duds and headed out to enjoy the only worthwhile nightlife in our town...
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On Sunday I gave my brother a haircut.
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After karaoke, we headed over to the *ahem* Roxbury Diner (which for as long as we'd known it had always been called the Victoria Diner before the Hatzimihalis family decided to go all weak on us and cash out) for some late night burgers...
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You know him, you love him. Ladies and gentleman, put your hands together and give a warm welcome to Chi-Chi's Mexican Mall Strip's very own, Music Man Jo-Jo Russell! (Yo, y'all may remember Jo Jo from entries like "Thanksgiving 2002," the good news is, his long-promised website is finally up and running!)
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...Saturday night karaoke at Chi-Chi's Mexican Strip Mall restaurant. Holla!
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"Now throw your hands in the air and scream!"
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For Christmas day, my grandparents and one of my mom's sister's family (The Carricks) came to our house. Christmas dinner in the house y'all. When I say "Hey," you say "Ho!" Now when I say "Je" you say "sus!"
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Brett and I with our other Great Uncle: Uncle Bob!
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Because there's nothing worse than a freshly armless Christmas. Foodcourt!
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That evening we all put on our most festivest Christmas sweaters (check out the bright green v-neck I dug up in my dad's closet)...
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The Battjer Treat Hounds.
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...and packed in the car to go to south Jersey for our annual Christmas Eve with my great uncle and aunt Walt and Ann (You know the drill by now, we do it every year (. Here's the backseat crizzew: me, mom and Brett's girlfriend Amy.
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Me. Hahahah.
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Me and Sid.
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Me with Amber (who became less shy as she drank more).
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Me and Candy.
a karaoke christmas
December 22, 2003
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What's up, horrible group shot. Clockwise from left: Mark, Andy, ?, me, the always lovely Sarah Lewitinn and Jamie.
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Me and Leila.
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Me and Jaime Kirkpatrick.
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Here's Grant sending me off. Goodbye California!
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Fare thee well Fatty! After seeing Dave off, Grant and I went to a bookstore and killed some time before we came back for him to drop me off (I was actually supposed to stay another two days, but being in 65 degree weather a few days before Christmas proved to be too much and I switched my flight so I could get home, do a little Christmas shopping and spend some time with my fam.
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...and I woke up just in time to thwart Grant's attempt to put his balls near my face.
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Me, resurrecting my impression of Ricky Schroeder with Down's Syndrome, and Jen.
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Grant and I with Harlan Martin! (Best picture ever).
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Me, Ross, Marianna and someone I don't know! (doh.)
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Dah-dah-disco.
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Me and Grant dishing some double-lovin' to the lovely Jen Ehrman.
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Me and the Fatty all dressed up.
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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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Those of you who know me know that I couldn't grow facial hair to save my life. Seriously, fifteen year olds with "dirtstaches" put me to shame. But after admiring Grant's crazy-ass cowboy beard, I decided that I wouldn't shave for six days and see what it looked like. And six days later...BLAMO! Check out my fucking beard!

What do you mean you can't see anything? Maybe you just need a closer look...
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...see? Check out that moustache. I'm practically Tom Selleck all over again.
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Here's me repping for the home state...
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...and giving love a bad name.
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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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Gun slinger.
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Me in the sun.
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Fatty in the sun.
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So remember how I said these weren't no pussy horses? As soon as we got them on the open trail, they all started galloping. That's right: not a trot, not a canter, a full-on fucking gallop. Holy shit, I almost did something in my pants that would've put Dashiell to shame. Here's a pic Grant managed to take of me right as we all finally managed to slow them down.
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Bee Gee Cowboy.
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After Fatty and I spent the better part of Wednesday getting acquinted with a few of the ranch's horses, on Thursday we were ready to ride. Here's me on the walk down...
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Later that night Grant, Fatty and I went over to the The Buckhorn, the local cowboy/loggers bar to do some research for Grant's "Sex Advice from Cowboys" article. Here's me with the bar's very real stuffed bear.
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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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Exhausted from too much driving and too many S'more, this little cowpoke decided to hit the hay.
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...RETALIATION! The Fatty Strikes Back!
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Several minutes later while I was focusing on making sure I toasted my marshmallow just right, I left myself wide-open for...
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On the way back to the ranch, we stopped at a store and picked up everything we needed to get our S'more on back at the ranch. Aw, yeah.
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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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Alysha and me.
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So I was talking to this girl (whose name I've since forgotten - DOH!) and we found out that she was to Harvard (ooooh! faaaaaancy!) with my good buddy Seth Familian (who y'all may remember as the evil culprit in June 23rd's notorius "Story That Can't Be Told" incident). Hehehe.
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Me in "The Hat." Yoooooooo.

MISSING PHOHTOS (oh no!)
After the Farmer's Market, Grant and I bid the Martin's farewell and embarked on a two-stop, six day trip. First up to San Fran to rendez vous with the Fatty (who had flown into SF earlier last night) and then the three of us were going to head to North Fork, California (just outside of Yosemite) and spend five days at Jordana and Ross' house located on a 4,000 acre ranch! Normally I'd have a ton of pics of the drive up, but in a far too common display of total incompetence, I somehow managed to reformat one of my camera's memory cards and about 50 pictures that I had taken with my second (and thankfully, less-used) camera.
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...crazy-ass baby diarrhea. Grant and I were sitting on the couch and all of a sudden we smelled something that reminded us of a really sharp block of cheddar that had gone bad.
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Oh my god, how in the world could I have forgotten to mention this in my last post? So remember how I went to the LA Weekly party with Laura right when I'd gotten into town? Well right when I got there, Laura introduced me to one of her friends, and he was like "I know this guy, I read his website!" Tavis, Laura's boyfriend was in disbelief. He was like "People you don't know read your website?" As soon as he said it, almost on cue, a girl walking by sees me, stops, grabs my arm and screams "OH MY GOD, YOU KEEP A DIARY!" and then laughs and walks away.

Later that night when I got home, she had emailed me. She introduced herself as Ellen Griley (Hi Ellen!) and was at the party because she works for the OC Weekly paper (also owned by Village Voice Media). She invited us to come down and check out the LBC "so we could flash all of our favorite gang signs and really mean it" and attend her friend's annual THONGSGIVING party. Thongsgiving? Clearly this was a group that Grant and I could roll wit. Here's Grant and I with Ellen. Woooo!
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Here's Ellen's friend Ryan, the host of the Thongsgiving bash.
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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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Some of you may remember him from back in October of 2002, when he was just a leeeetle baby. Here's a pic from back then when Ross and Jord were getting ready to move to LA and we went out to Ross' parents in NJ to see the baby and see them off.
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"Fifty million!"
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"Hee hee hee, you´re a funny guy!"
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"Fumes, quicksand, toxic waste, it´s all ours!"
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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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I heart her. (Mad props to Laura's friend for snapping this pic).
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Hahaha.
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But his patented "mean face" all but made up for it.
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After bidding farewell to Dash and Jord, Ross took me to VH1's production offices to show me the television pilot (that he created and exec produced) starring none other than...
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...but you got a drooling problem.
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Me & G-ma in tha hizzouse, boyeeeee.
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Scott Jentzen and Kermit Albertson.
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Turkey Time! Going Clockwise from the front left: G-ma, G-pa, Aunt Sue, me, Pappi, Mami, Chad, Uncle Wayne, Aunt Elaine and Lindsay.
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Lisa Puzio and Kim Shortino! Ha!
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First thing I did upon arriving in town on Wednesday evening was pick up Kim Wilson (my senior prom date, awwww) who was in town from North Carolina and head over to a bar in town called "The Barn," which before all major holidays is the best place to find other people you went to high school with.
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With Frank's drum kit taking up the entire rear half of his car, Fatty and I were forced to share the front seat.
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With a belly fulla greasy C-grade meat, Frank, the Fatty and I decided to call it an early night. Here's Seth giving the international sign for "you're a pussy."
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Me and the Fatty (who's looking super-disco in the photo).
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Me and Nina.
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Roxbury High School in the house, y'all.
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Miye wasn't ready to brave the karaoke stage solo, so I helped ease her on in by teaming up for a duet. She spent more time sucking down her drink than she did singing.
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Here's Jesse telling his two Karaoke Santas that he wants the fucking ROKK for Christmas this year.
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Chiara and I did our best to keep up with them.
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Leila took a quick break from her make out sesh to writhe and gratuitously cup her breasts next to me on stage while I sang. Thanks for that, hon. Motley Crue karaoke just isn't the same without a girl on the stage touching herself and shimmying suggestively.
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Yet again! As soon as she see's someone hold up a camera, *poof*, she hides.
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Me flanked by Leila and Chiara (aka - "The Trouble Twins") I sang, um, something. (See how Chiara's hiding again?)
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Me, Sarah, Adriana and Emma.
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First off check out Vin's face (hahahah)! So after getting a clutch shot of Emma with the "pressed hams" move, I thought I'd continue the streak and take one of my famous "You're posing with my balls but you don't know that you are" pictures with Crazy Marni. The plan was that I'd go up to her with them out, snap a couple of shots to lull her into a false sense of security, and then turn the camera lengthwise introducing my plums into the equation. Everything was going smoothly until...
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Oooooh, yeah.
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Me, Mr. and Mrs. Jamie Kijowski and Grizza.
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After we finished eating, the plan was for Emma and Lorelei to call and say that we should meet them at the Sunburned Cow, a bar all the way over on Avenue C. We'd try to arrive right at 10pm, and everyone would jump out yell "Surprise!" (hopefully both surprising Grant and scaring the living shit out of him simutaneously).
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Fire up iTunes and here cue up Crüe's "Home Sweet Home." Awww, yeah.