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showing 2003 only · show all years
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Me and Sid.
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Well, almost every single reason. Check out LA, working hard to further blur the line between gainful employment and prostitution.
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Fatty crashed the fuck out on the ride. Hahah.
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Me 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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...and here's the Fatty and Grant.
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We bid our lovely condo a fond farewell and piled into our sweet, lil' rental one last time.
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Back in the parking lot, Grant snapped a bunch of pics as we prepared to head back to Rethymnon.
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I totally forgot to mention that the temperature had dropped sharply from the previous day and was in the low 50s, which might not sound too cold, but when you're riding a scooter at 50mph with no gloves, it's almost unbearable. Here's me using the exaust to defrost my frozen lil' phalanges.
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Our bellies full of warm doughnut, we hit the open road. We decided to take a 45 km backroads trip to check out the bad-ass Arkadi Monastery and then from there, if we had enough light, ride another 25 km and check out the Melidoni Caves.
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Grant proudly displays his can of "Master Cafe" iced coffee drink. Any time a beverage features a tractor trailer on it, you KNOW it's going to motherfucking kickstart your heart.
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Me upon realizing that my grandparents are older than the buildings that you see in the background.
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Fatty taking a self-portrait of his puffy beach-hair Jew-fro. Suh-weet!
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Grant and The Fatty.
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After our busy day of swimming and napping, we headed over to one of the nearby beach restaurants for some lunch. Chris and me.
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Then the food shows up and all of a sudden he's jamming wif breffis all koo-dey-la and shit in the Fatty's glasses.
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While Chris and I goofed around with our cameras,
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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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Emily and me in the backseat.
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Next, Tara and Grant decided to bond a little bit by fucking with me while I tried to sleep.
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DeNiro meets Elvis meets Mullet.
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Me and an Elvis-lipped Tara.
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After a few aspirin and several liters of water *whew*, we hopped in the car and drove out to Ross & Jordana's house in the valley where we also met up with Emma Taylor and Lorelei Sharkey who were in LA for two days as part of their book tour.
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U-S-A! U-S-A!
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Hahahah. Just when you thought Fatty couldn't top the "dessert" pic above...
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Hahahaha. If Dave Fateman dies before me, I'm gonna make sure this is one of the pics they put on top of the coffin - because this one photo bascially sums up how Fatty's living his life.
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...and me with my beach hair.
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Here's my dad cold kicking it with his aqua shades.
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MLE upped the ante but breaking out a pair of CHiPs shades to go with it.
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Hey lover of "Pietro,"
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I put the hat on, the shades on and then I did the robot. Top that! Top that! Top that-th-th-that, th-that, that!
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Oh, did I forget to mention that they have a giant bag of costumes and (if you want) you can dress up as whoever you're singing a song by? Er, or as in this case, you can dress up in random, white jumpsuits. (Sorry guys, I forgot who you're supposed to be here!)
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We ended up eating across that street at some god-awful, faux, Tex-Mex place where the bill was like $65 for the three of us to eat lunch. Lunch! Sixty-five bones! Bah!