C'mon sing it boys. Took the L back into Manhattan to First Ave and walked down to 8th street to check in on the Fatty's party. I got there at 2:15am and found that things were already in, as they say, "full effect." Here's Setty and Frank.
After the gig, we hopped in Seth's fancy Mercedes and headed up towards the Empire State Building for a lil' late night treat. Aw yeah, White Castle! (Seth lives up in Boston where they don't have the WC, so it was worth the pilgrimage).
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."
...and the one and only Seth Miller on vox. (All of the smaller pics that you see here were lifted off of Em & Lo's website.) And yes, they're available for weddings. Make sure to check out their killer set list.
But not nearly as happy as this picture makes me. There's too much going on for me to even write about (but I do need to at least mention Seth's gratuitious cupping of Matt's tits).
As the night gained momentum, we abandoned our little table in the corner and took over the couch directly in front of the stage. Here's Frank, Seth, Colin and Tara.
So somewhere around this time, I started spitting on my friends. Well, more like spitting on my hand and throwing it at them. I don't know, it seemed funny at the time. Needless to say, people weren't happy with me. After realizing that I'd been an asshole, I apologized and Seth opened his arms for a hug. Little did I know, it was a set up: while I was hugging Seth, Grant snuck up behind me and poured his beer down my shirt (while Fatty, privy to the plan, waited in the wings with the camera. Bastards).
Seth was kind enough to offer me a sip of his water as a chaser. Only after a I swallowed did I realize his "water" was actually a glass of vodka with just a little bit of ice. A real prince among men, I tell ya.
Here's me with Sheff and Seth (who had just arrived in town on Sheff's brand, new boat. Which being 40' is prolly more appropriately called a yacht. Jesus.)
After he'd finished singing, one of Tracy's friends (Shawn Wayans, I think) came up on stage and the band kicked off a Stevie Wonder tune. Seth ran up and joined them to first provide some backing harmonies...
Ohhhh, man. I'm so not allowed to tell you about the rest of the night. (I want to type it sooooo bad. My fingers are trembling with the desire to spill forth the bestest story ever). But alas, I promised Colin (the artist formerly known as Big Daddy) that this story would stay under wraps until at least 2013. Check back then, please. Thank you.
Saturday night Grant and I stayed in watching TV at my house until like 1am (losers) and then finally got our asses in gear to go meet Seth (who had just come down from Boston) and a bunch of other people at Antarctica. (L to R: Seth, Big Daddy, Grant [looking tres Billyburg in his gay-ass, cocked, camo hat] and me).