"Yes, hello. I'm calling from across the bar...can you please turn down your giant fan? As you can probably see, it's making my hair look quite silly. No, I'm over to your left. I'm wearing a blue sweatsh...Hey! Stop laughing! Just turn down your fan, ok?"
"No, you listen to me, Kurt Loder! I was the star of that show! You hear me? The STAR! I don't care if you don't want me back on for the next season because without me, you got nothing. NOTHING!"
A week earlier Leigh had asked me if I'd be one of the DJs at her party. I was like "Uh, I don't know how to DJ, remember?" She was all "You don't have to beat-match and shit. Just bring a bunch of songs that you think will get people dancing. I'll take you over early and show you how to use the decks. It'll take twenty minutes." True to her word, she picked me up in a cab a few hours before her party was set to start, took me over to Luke and Leroy's (Here's the bday girl pulling a face)...
In the midst of our maxing and relaxing, Grant got a call on his cell from his Grammy Pammy in England (who is probably the only octagenarian who is a regular reader of my site)!
In the end, I ended up fishing his wallet out of his pants and looking up his name and address (if memory serves correctly, I think his name was Brice or something like that). Here's Tinny holding his phone to his ear as we took turns calling people in his phone trying to get someone who knew him to confirm his address so we could put him in a cab. (In the end, we were never able to confirm where he lived so we sat him down outside with a bottle of water and went back inside. When I came out an hour later, he was passed out and had pissed his pants and we ended up calling the cops who sent an ambulance for him. Doh!) Anybody know who this guy is?
We took this picture of us both speaking with her and assured her that it'd eventually be posted on the site. So here's a big shout out to Grammy Pam! (Here's a pic of her from when we were in London last year! She's the one immediately to Grant's left!)
After some frantic late night form-filling, I managed to make it over to the Penn Station Post office with my tax return with a whopping 46 minutes to spare before the tax deadline.
Sad! The small text that you can't read in the pic says "Please call before March 2004!" Anyone up for calling and finding out what they ended up naming the baby? Email me.
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