Forgive us this month for things are still hazy. After draining our energy at the International Auto Salon and revitalizing with a drink or two, we went wherever the action was, even if promises of full-course meals went unfulfilled. At the TYC shindig, we made complete asses of ourselves in hopes of winning an Xbox or two, and eventually went home with one, but only after Omar bound and gagged the TYC staff as it was shown in his Al Qaeda training manual. Later, we strolled leisurely down Sunset Boulevard over to the Hollywood Athletic Club where Sparco and a host of other manufacturers/retailers held one of the loudest gigs of the entire weekend. Anybody who was anybody was there, even if it was a pain in the ass to get inside. Signal Auto schooled us on the fine art of Japanese counting games, and a cue ball never looked so bad between the mouths of a British and Iranian man. And finally, joining the bandwagon of holy matrimony was our own Jen Thomson, who finally tied the knot with her longtime lambada dance partner, Terry McGean. The ceremonies were conducted in her home state of New Jersey, where the couple decided to be extremely daring for once and pumped their own gas at the Amoco off exit 46 from the The New Jersey Turnpike.
Russ never did find out what these girls' real names were. Nor did Roel. Nor Jonny.
Poor Michelle-surrounded by the biggest stalkers in the industry.
Dr. Charles: "Fine, Nads, I'll throw up the 'W' if you'll just leave me alone for the rest of the night."
"Shifty Eyes" Nads plans out his next move: rip shirt off to reveal man-boobs or fart really loudly.
Patrick from HKS USA and friend.
Michael Meyers completely ignored Nads' request to borrow the NOPI man costume to pick up chicks.
When boys go wild...