Hi. Man, it's been forever since I took an actual vacation (like a take-time-off-from-work vacation), but
last week actually, two weeks ago, I took 10 days off and went out to the house in Amagansett for 10 days. Actually, there was a whole crew of us that took time off - people showing up and leaving every few days. I think we had, what?, 14 people out there over the week. (read: the house = too crowded).
For the first half of the week, I spent most of my time
checking email trying to teach myself how to surf. Since the waves are pretty flat at the beach near our house, we trekked to the ditch (Ditch Plains), parked at MJ's place and spent our day at Poles (the break way to the right side of the beach @ ditch).
Back in the days of Montauk 2001 (the summer of unemployment), Randy and I spent a few days trying to learn on shortboards (I've since picked up a 9' longboard = much easier to learn on). Being the stoopid beginners are were back then, we were out in hurricane style surf (the aftermath of some tropical storm) on these little boards literally getting the shit kicked out of us. But that was then and this is now... and I still suck (though Randy is actually pretty good and Grellan can consistantly stand up too), though on day three, I was finally able to get up on the board with some consistency. And walk around the board a bit. Too bad that after day three the weather turned to shit (flat + rainy). By the way, that's Randy in the pic. Not me.
Note to fellow beginners: dark spots underwater that aren't moving are rocks, not sharks. I learned a lot.
My masterplan was to take my new waterproof camera out with us to take some pics, but, er, it was lost in the ocean. So, I had to settle for this lame beach shot of Randy. (When we head back out in Sept, I may try the digicam-in-the-ziplock-bag trick.)
14 people = lots of burgers. Some day I post up a how-to for all the folks that want to make my special DPS BurgersTM at home, but for now remember: one egg, one chopped-up onion, BBQ, some hot sauce, salt and pepper, skittles.
Innernets + Lucas' Mac -> TV connector = a festival of pirated movies. We tried to get some "Who Killed the Electric Car" (nerds!) but got duped into downloading this Making of the Documentary piece from the BBC. Fuckers.
ps: My pal Lucas = the director's evil twin brother???
Thursday. No surf. We spent the day at the beach across the street. KM huddling for warmth, Grellan knee deep in soduku and slow jams.
Our pal MJ (fresh back from Hawaii) stopped by bearing
gifts from the islands Heineken mini-kegs. We dug that sucker into the beach real good, wrapped it in a plastic bag, filled the bag with ice...
... and poured ourselves some of the foamiest beers you've ever done poured. (is "foamiest" a word? Verdict: yes!)
Hey Vipul, thanks serving up beers in little styrofoam cups(, you Earth killer!)
Got pretty wrecked surfing Tuesday. A fin to the thigh or something. It doesn't even look bad in the photo... in my younger year, would have Photoshopped it up real good. (ah, next time)
The sun beat down on poor Joost as if it were Baby's First Beach Day. I love how you can see the burnt-in finger marks where the lotion wouldn't reach. Sorry dude. [Jamaica flashback]
Thursday night dinner and we hit up some lobster shack on the bay side. KM's stoopid head blocking the sunset.
Sunset olympics featuring me + Lucas in a rock skippin' contest. Some 6 yr old shamed us (though he loses points for shaking a rock off a nearby boat.)
$35 = some lobster, some oysters, some corn, some mussels, some shrimps.
Sorry, but lobster rolls = better than lobster (if only because you don't have to wear the stoopid bib).
Late night. We went back to MJs to watch surf videos (cause that's what's surfers do, brother!). Continuing with the documentary-nerd theme we watched Riding Giants (documentary on big wave riding).
Here, MJ showing us how he busted his board in half.
Friday. Friday night at the beach?! You gots to look good! I got all dolled up with my best temporary tattoo.
Bad ass. (Randy stalking)
Crap Mexican dinner in Amagansett -> Karaoke @ Liars in Montauk. The scene started off pretty lame - salty locals and a "Everyone is taking it American-Idol-Serious" vibe - until
Vipul Veedal + Maysoon nearly got us tossed out for their version of "Hey Ya" (worst karaoke song ever?).
Grellan Graylan + Hilary + Shannon ripping up some Def Leppard.
Proof. (and by the way, I am *done* with YouTube and their crappy compression / mis-synced audio. Hello, Google video!) [video]
For our finale, someone cued me up some Third Eye Blind(, asshole!). I quickly protested and had my new staple - a little GnR Patience - cued up. I sent a special long distance dedication to all the underage girls at The Point. See you soon, girls.
Uh, slayed it.
Post debut, local ladies were all up in our grill. While my heart belongs to Lola...
... her heart belongs to Grellan. Poor dude went from simply-serenaded to cornered into a private dance. (Grellan, I left out Lola's post-game-analysis... shall I re-add it?)
Q: Where do the high school girls hang out around here? (Mom, it's a joke! Swingers! Come'on!)
A: The Point. (10 in the RR = a record?)
Chicks dig snakes tattoos and slow-jamming to Journey hits.
Shannon + Hilary dig dry-humping Grellan.
Of course, there were like five shots like this. This is the 2nd best. [ssh] Er, why does Hilary look all oompaloompa orange?
Fast forward to 4:30am. Back at the house, Grellan constructed the greatest sandwich ever known. I am overly excited by said sandwich.
Saturday. Our pal Alexa hooked us up with some +1 passes for this polo
match party in Bridgehampton. I tried to dress up all nice (my new brown shirt!), but Grellan wasn't having it. I got stuck borrowing one of Older Brother Randy's shirts (2 sizes too big!!). I made zero friends.
This really isn't my thing, I swear. You know how when you go out in the Lower East Side and everyone looks kind of stupid because it's supposed to be ironic (like, "yeah, I know I looked retarded, but that's why I am so rad!"), well the polo scene was kind of the same thing, except I had a hard time telling the ironic outfits (um, if any?) from the people who were just trying to look their bestest. This photo really doesn't show much (white pants + salmon colored shirts are a dime a dozen), but the guy dressed in three shades of white - one of which was a sweater wrapped around his neck??? - come'on! Is that for real?
So, the whole scene is put on by Mercedes Benz (and a handful of other smaller sponsors - some shirt company, T-Mobile sidekick, some ice-tea drink), so Benzes and free drinks scattered throughout. If you were had X-Ray vision to see through Alexa's head, you'd see Russel Simmons chatting it up with Kanye West. We so A-list!
Beyond the benzes there's this whole tent full of people not watching polo. I should have taken a pic with one of the 8000 supercute girls in the foreground instead of this one with Johnny McSunglasses. Next time.
Okay, outside the tent there were a few people watching the match.
I admit I didn't watch any of it.
But I did stomp on some of the divits when the game was over.
Er, after I stuffed my face with freebee cupcakes and wiped my chocolatey hands on fancy Benz interiors.
And Endeavour, er, wins (?) against White Birch! This is like watching a Braves vs. Padres game on TBS.
What's the name of the polo guy all the ladies love? Is his name up on the board? Hahahahahaha... I just found it by Googling "hamptons polo player the ladies love", it's
Nacho Libre Nacho Figueras!
Okay, are we done with polo? Let's head to the Fancy Champagne After Party(tm)! Another +1 gift from Alexa, we trekked from the polo grounds to some exclusive polo club and walked out in the middle of the field where some brokers were hosting a mini party designed to sell these $20m Park Ave apartments. Guess who's not buying, suckas! ("But yes, I will have another glass of that fine champagne, sir.")
$1000 a bottle? $100 a bottle? What's the difference? [buy some]
"Oh, and I'll have one of those scallop things, please. My, you look really nice today."
(ps: someday I will add the me-talking-to-Penelope-Cruz-lookalike story)
We took a walk to the sculture garden to clear our heads. I did not photograph the three girls squatting to pee behind a row of Cadillac Escalades.
And enough of the champagne party. Onto Patrick McMullen's surprise birthday party! Who's Patrick McMullen? No idea. Some fancy celebrity photographer. But he had his birthday party at this huge
McMansion McHouse out in Southampton, complete with Korean pop singers, valet parking, a swimming pool we weren't allowed to swim in and ourdoor beds we weren't allowed to sit in.
Was pretty packed. Lots of really beautiful people. Escorts vs. model types vs. 19-year-old Ukranian girls looking for husbands = I can't tell the difference sometimes.
Oh, they also had chicken skewers. The green in the background is the pool we weren't allowed to swim in.
Shit, there's my new brown shirt. I had to emergency-change in the car to escape from Big Brother Randy's polo getup.
My Mom called. I told her I couldn't hear her because I was at some fancy Hamptons party. She text'd me back this.
More crowd. Standing next to me was this euro dude who I read about in Gawker a while ago. (thankfully, present company had an eagle eye for anyone in the C to D-list celebrity range). The red in the background is the bed we weren't allowed to sit in.
Oh, and we ran into two of Jill's friends from work, Erika and <hello, what's your name again?>
Annnnnnnd then some dude got on the mic and was like "Hey everyone! The cops are here!" (which is lame, because they weren't), but it sent everyone in a mad dash out into the streets to grab their cars before the after-party traffic jam started.
Okay, imagine your typical suburban development - narrow road, 7 houses maybe, a cul-de-sac at the end. Then imagine a party with 300 people where everyone drove their own car. And they imagine all those cars parked on the sides of the street. Now the street is just *barely* wide enough for the two cars parked on both side of the street, nevermind the cars that are have to actually drive down the street. And then imagine everyone mad dashing to their cars so they can be the first to get out of this mess.
So, as luck may have it, in the unimaginably long line of cars to get out, we were #1 (I mean, we were already on our way out when then guy got on the mic). So we race to the car, start to pull out and we're blocked head-to-head style by all these fasionably-latecomers. I stick my head out the window and am like "Man, you gotta back up" to the first car in line. And he (dude in a Puffy Daddy-esque white suit driving a BMW Z4, no joke) is all, "This is a one-way street, man!" before Grellan has to get out and explain that this is the wrong time to start being all Johnny Tough and that there are 800 cars behind us. So after maybe 10 mins in traffic, we finally escape (and yes, the cops were there directing traffic), but I can't imagine what it would have been like to leave like 20 minutes after we did. The pics and videos I have don't really do the chaos justice, but whatever. (Grell, good call making a dash to the truck.)
And so that's it. Actually, after we left the Patrick McMullen bday party me + Grellan headed to the Talkhouse in Amagansett ($20 cover, worst band ever). After 10 days of Hamptons and one full day of polo party -> after party -> a Talkhouse full of cougars, I really couldn't take the scene anymore so I just headed home. Like drove-home-to-NYC-at-3am home. I got in at 5am. Slept for like 6 hours. Then helped Little Sister Katie move into her new apt, and that's about it.
So, the end. And that was my summer vacation (though, we've still got one more weekend out at the beach - 9/15 - sweet).