And it wasn't long before I started egging them on to pose with unsuspecting strangers (not an easy thing to pull off when there are only like 3 people in the whole bar).
And hey, remember this guy? So he's sort of been sitting on the side watching our dance party and when Amber asked him if he wanted to dance he said "How about we all smoke a jay instead?" And busted out this big, brown, gorilla finger of a joint.
I'm not a big fan of pot, but once in a blue moon, like in the middle of an impromptu afterhours dance party, it's just what the docta ordered. (PS - Look at everones' faces in this pic. So great).
Later that night, I was walking around the Lower East Side with Sarah and for some reason I was in the middle of telling her about how last year when I was backstage at an ACDC concert in London, Keith Flint from the Prodigy mistook me for a guy named Crispin Mills, who used to be the singer for a UK band called Kula Shaker. Anyway, right after I had finished telling the story, we walked into some shop, and the girl behind the counter waves to me and says "Hi, Crispin." Apparently, her sister used to date him and she was convinced I was him. Random, random, randon.
Hey, It's this guy! I think his name is Jay, not sure. Anyway, Jay was at Rosemary's Tavern the infamous night I french-kissed a senior citizen and never fails to remind me of it every time I run into him. Big ups! Big ups!
I'm not sure who this guy is or whether or not the drunk girl was a friend of his. He was sitting next to her the whole night and he loved that everyone was posing with her.
On Saturday, Grant had to go to VH1 and do voice-over work for his TV show, so Fatty and I decided to wander down Melrose. Check out what we saw in Starbucks: it's a shirtless guy, wearing overalls, a stoooopid Paddington bear hat, sunglasses INDOORS and holding a walking stick while he's SITTING DOWN AND PLAYING CHESS! Oh my god, I call this photo "EVERY SINGLE REASON I DON'T LIVE IN LOS ANGELES."
Right when we'd gotten to the bar, there were a few girls that came over to us because they could tell that we "weren't from around there." We chatted them up for awhile until we noticed that it was causing all of the guys in the room to give us the stinkeye. As the night pressed on and some of those guys started getting drunker and giving us the stink eye again, we decided it would probably be best to quit while we were ahead and call it a night. We snuck out right in the middle of a slow jam. Farewell, Coarse Gold!
Just when I was about to tell him he was crazy, I looked over at her and saw the resemblance myself (check it out. crazy, right?). I was like "Whoa! You're right, she IS hot!" (Which is also when I realized it would probably be best if Grant drove home).
...and refugee groupies from the 80s! Awwww, yeah! (This lady was awesome - she was totally all over Fatty. Fatty was laughing, but at the same time he was all nervous because she was there with a bunch of scary looking dudes. Check out how Fatty's all got his arms up in the air like "I'm not touching her, see? She is the one touching me!")
But we went up to them afterwards and were talking to them and they turned out to be the nicest people in the world. (And although you can't really tell from this pic, this lady was actually pretty hot. Fatty kept nudging me and nodding over at her being like "Dude, she's so hot....and TRAAAAASHY." Yep, Fatty loves him some trashy women.)
For some reason this is the only pic I have of Grant singing...see him there in the background? Look carefully, I know it's hard to see him behind the group of people who actually got up out of their seats and started doing a FUCKING KICKLINE to the end of his incredible rendition of Frank's "New York, New York." (People from California got up and kicklined to "New York, New York" sung by a Brit. Think about that.)
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!
This girl was fucking awesome. She was this tiny little five-footer wearing a sateen prom dress and was all by herself on the dancefloor completely freaking her own shit. As she was dancing she deliberately raked the crowd of onlookers with her eyes totally daring someone to go out there on the dancefloor and get drrrrrrrrty with her. Quote of the night goes to Laura's friend x, who out leant over to me when we were watching her and goes "That girl's sooooo looking to get fucked by a stranger tonight." Hahahahaha.
Check out the bouncer guy in the background, when he saw me getting ready to take a picture of Tookie he quickly jammed his hands in his pocket, leaned back against the wall and pulled one of the best, smoldering "sexy" faces I've ever seen. (Bonus points awarded for that butt-chin).
Then his pants. Somewhere along the lines a sailor hat, a life saver and an egg beater (yep, see it stuck down the front of his pants there?) entered the mix.
As people started passing out all around us, we decided it was probalby best to pack it up and call it a night. We'd made it through the night without anyone even trying to pick a fight and figured it'd be best to quit while we were ahead.
Here's a better pic of him. He was dating this girl who had these weird saggy titties and no bra and the entire time they were making out on the dance floor he kept taking her titties and TWISTING the fuck out of them.
Grant was all excited because he thought this woman was dressed up as something for Halloween but then a few days later he saw the picture and realized that she was just dressed up as herself.
This pub is crazy old. There was a plaque on wall over by these dudes (that were dressed like they'd just gotten back from a goddamned foxhunt) that told about how it was the meeting point for the Peasant's Revolution in 1381.
My goal for the night was to try to get this girl in the white to dance with me. (And then, after we were done dancing, to marry me). She was being carefully watched over by the guy you see on the left so I dispatched Chris to head over and use a little of his fluent Greek magick to try to see if he'd introduce me to her.
We chatted Michael up for a few minutes and after we'd established a rapport, I asked him if I had any shot with his cute friend and he replied (please make sure you read the next sentence in your best Balki from "Perfect Strangers" voice) "Don' be ree-deek-you-los!"
Here you can see Michael hi-fiving his friends ("And then I told them to fuck off before I kicked their American asses!") while my dreamgirl chats with her friend about how she wishes her friend would stop coming between her and her future husband.
This dude was hanging out for a long time waiting for Tymber to say goodbye so he could walk her home. Check out Grant in the corner trying his hardest to not let on that he's trying his hardest to listen in on what they're saying.
And then a group shot. HA HA HA HA. Notice in the background you can see the chick's equally-attractive German boyfriend totally catching on to what we were up too. Das gig ist up, ja?
We walked around town for awhile and eventually managed to find the steak joint. After we'd been seated, we noticed a heartbreakingly attractive German woman sitting at a nearby table and all of a sudden Grant wants to take a picture of Chris reading a menu.
Now this picture really does not do any justice to this girls sick ol' onion. The Grizza doesn't make that face for just any hot girls bee-hind. (Oh wait, yes he does.) Although, I regret to inform that points are taken away for wearing white pants after Labor Day.
...that she was only fourteen years old! Doh! Turns out her family owned the club and twice a week she worked the door to earn some extra money (ummm, her allowance, I guess). It was a little past 2am and we were all knackered from our long day of scootering (and too much wine at dinner) so we decided to pack it in early and head back to the resort. We arrived at our car to find Grant sprawled out across the backseat asleep...and decided to do what any friends in our situation would do: scare the living shit out of him. We all got on one side of the car and at the count of three started rocked the (tiny) car back and forth as hard as we could while screaming. Grant leapt awake (screaming along with us) and nearly soiled himself. I tried to take a pic of it, but the flash bounced off the car's glass and it didn't come out. Sorry.
We wandered the streets for almost an hour trying to decide on where we wanted to eat (ok, trying to find the place that had the most hot girls dining there). The problem was, there was so many restaurants (and so many hot girls) that we couldn't make up our minds. Finally, as we neared the point of collapse from hunger, we were courted by this dude, Kostas Vallasso, and he was so friendly and funny that we decided to eat as his place.
The first thing we did on the beach was make sure we staked out a location near the topless Scandinavian girls that was close enough to see their boobies clearly but not so close that Grant's staring would get us in trouble.
Here's the side by side comparison: The real Ross Martin's on the left and the Ogrified Ross Martin is on the right. If you squint a little, you almost can't tell who's who! Hahahah.
...a huge Cretan man that looked like a bizarro "Ogre Version" of our good friend Ross Martin. Not willing to let him escape undocumented, we dispatched Chris (who speaks fluent Greek) to tell the giant Ross-Ogre (R'ogre, if you will) that he looked just like a friend of ours and would he mind posing for a picture. There was an uncomfortably long pause as he pondered our request (which I spent fearing he was about to crush all of our heads like grapes) but instead he gave a polite nod and posed for this fantastic pic.
Why yes, there is: The Fatty with a group of German ACDC fans. These guys were fucking hardcore. They got wind of the surprise show in Munich that morning and flew over on a whim.
He'd moved back to Iceland a few years ago and was managing a bakery there. He'd just gotten off work - so he grabbed a bag full of day-old bread, and brought his son to the pond to feed the birds while waiting for his wife (who was originally from Russia) to get out of her class at the nearby University.
It was right around this time that I decided it was time to pull out the video camera and start capturing some of this. I mean, Christ, I'd already failed to capture the lobotomy guy and Smari dropping the C-bomb about his sister - I wasn't about to miss out on any more. I asked him if he minded me filming him talking and he said he didn't. As soon as I started taping, he launched into all these stories about Iceland's crazy nightlife and told us that we needed to come back over the summer and spend a few days. "Don't worry about a hotel." He told us, "You won't be needing one." Hahaha. (Footage coming soon).
As stood nearby discussing what our best plan of attack in exploring the city, , he overheard us talking and asked where we were from. "Oh shit," we thought. "Here we go again." But when we told him we were from NYC, he told us that he'd lived in NYC for a bunch of years as well. He introduced himself as Smari and told us that he'd lived in the States for 15 years and that besides NYC, he'd also worked as a bakery manager in New Hampshire and San Francisco.
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.
Susan claims she was just talking to him because he was wearing a shirt with an upside-down picture of himself on it and she wanted to see if he was a narcissist. A likely story. (photo by Susan).
We met these two as we were leaving. They were in town from England and when they heard that we were getting ready to take a trip there, they became our new best friends. The guy in the scarf was so drunk that we're actually holding him up in this pic.
Some girl we just met going further than anyone had yet gone by actually putting the tip of her tounge inside the peeny hole of the Penis Straw! Holy Moly!
On the way home, I was happy to see that my local McDonald's has re-instituted it's "Free Nap With Every Value Meal" policy. I know how it is lady, the McChicken makes me sleepy too!
...and this guy! I wish I could remember his fucking name! ARgh! He was a total Staten Island-style guido who was pretty much the friendliest guy I've ever met. He saw us taking pictures and wanted to take a look at my camera...which of course led to us taking pictures with him.
On the way over to some bar called O'Donohughe's, Crazy made friends with a homeless Puerto Rican guy and they sang us some songs together in Spanish. (Which was extra entertaining because, um, Crazy doesn't speak Spanish)
This was the best part, I was standing really close to him with my nuts out and all of sudden he woke up. He seemed started to find me standing so close to him and and was like "What's up?" So I said to him enthusiastically, "Nothing, dude! You're rocking the fuck out, that's what! Let's take a picture together!" He jumped up and with like "Ok!" So that's how I turned an "Almost Got My Ass Kicked" situtation into the greatest "You Don't Know You're Posing With My Balls But You Are" picture of all time.
Shortly after, his girlfriend returned and somehow Jen Choi ended up on stage dirty dancing with her. (It was also right around here that my camera's batteries fucking died on me. I managed to snap a few more pics, but I kept having to turn the cam off for a few seconds, let it rest, then turn it on and try to take another pic before it died again.)
The real tragedy is that because of this I missed getting a really good action shot of Jen spanking the Bellybutton Lady with a leather S&M paddle. (I swear to God, I'm not kidding. This actually happened. If you look in the background, you can see Jen holding the paddle in her right hand - and see who the turquoise lady is all leaning against the wall - submitting herself?)
So it was around this time that we noticed these two (aka - "The Greatest Couple in the World."). He was completely shit-hammered; to the point where his head was all bobbing around like we was on a fucking wagonride on a cobblestone street. And she (as if her matching aqua skirt-outfit wasn't enough) had the biggest belly button jewelry thing I've ever seen. I mean look at that thing - it's like the J-Lo engagement ring of bellybuttons. Anyway, she was really drunk and kept heckling people in between songs, yelling that it was her turn already....we'll get back to these guys later.
Sid & Buddy quickly caught on. Now at this point, it pretty much stopped being about her ass and just started being about how much we could get away with behind this unsuspecting girl's back. Here's Buddy barking like a dog.
So to be honest with you, I don't really even know how this started. There was something about this girl's bum that Grant and I thought was great. So we started taking sneaky pictures of it.
Monday night karaoke was extra-special because there were all these Mafiosa guys there that wandered in after eating at Lombardi's nextdoor. They all sang Frank Sinatra songs.