What would you think if I sang out of tune?
Would you stand up and walk out on me?
Lend me your ears and I’ll sing you a song

And I’ll try not to sing out of key

Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends

Mm, I get high with a little help from my friends

Mm, gonna try with a little help from my friends

What do I do when my love is away?

Does it worry you to be alone?

How do I feel by the end of the day?

Are you sad because you’re on your own?

No, I get by with a little help from my friends

Mm, I get high with a little help from my friends

Mm, gonna try with a little help from my friends

Do you need anybody?

I need somebody to love

Could it be anybody?

I want somebody to love

Would you believe in a love at first sight?

Yes, I’m certain that it happens all the time

What do you see when you turn out the light?

I can’t tell you but I know it’s mine

Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends

Mm, I get high with a little help from my friends

Mm, gonna try with a little help from my friends

Do you need anybody?

I just need someone to love

Could it be anybody?

I want somebody to love

Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends

Mm, I get high with a little help from my friends

Mm, gonna try with a little help from my friends

Yes I get by with a little help from my friends

With a little help from my friends


Ridiculously awesome Thanksgiving break.

I had 2 Thanksgivings. One on Thanksgiving, the other last night.

I got trashed on both occasions.

On the first Thanksgiving, I demolished a third of Bacardi.

On the second, I enjoyed copious amounts of wine with food, and then partook in a liquor tasting tour. I was considerably smashed last night.

Words fail in describing how much I didn’t want to go to school today. I was dead the entire day. I came home and fucking napped.

Meh. Beatles rule though.

My PS3 bundle has shipped as of yesterday and I am to
receive it tomorrow.


Oh, did you not know about my acquiring a PS3? Well gosh,
let me tell you all about it!


I suppose it all started last Thursday. Right after school,
I sped home, grabbed a chair, 5 granola bars, 3 bottles of water, a magazine,
some books, and my MP3 player. I threw all that shit in my car, and sped over
to Sam’s Club. From there, I camped out for about 5 hours. I was fifth in line.

Now something you need to know about Sam’s Club is that the
supply they were getting was not the supply a store like Best Buy was getting
(which was in the neighborhood of 34.) No, instead of 34, Sam’s Club got 2.
That’s not a typo; they literally received two
units. The two assholes that got them were camping out in front of the store
since fucking Tuesday. So I was fucked. I went home. Whatever, I lost. It was


next afternoon, a Friday, I received an email from EB Games/Gamestop entitled “Important
Information Regarding PlayStation 3 Online Availability.” I give you the body
of the message in its entirety:


GameStop.com/EBgames.com Customer:

We will have an extremely limited supply of 20GB PlayStation 3 console bundles
for preorder on our site Friday evening, November 17th.

We expect these bundles to ship on or before December 1st. When the bundle is
activated on our site, you can find it here:


We will not offer 60GB PlayStation 3 console bundles until our store pre-orders
have been filled, but check back soon for future preorder opportunities.

Receipt of this email does not guarantee an opportunity to purchase. Orders
will be taken on a first come, first serve basis.

Thank you,

No virus found in this incoming message.
Checked by AVG Free Edition.
Version: 7.1.409 / Virus Database: 268.14.6/535 – Release Date: 11/15/2006


Now note the inclusion of the phrase “Friday evening.” This implies that the product
will be available at any one time between about 5:00
p.m., until the end of twilight.


As a result of this vile and mocking ambiguity, I sat in
front of my Firefox browser refreshing this page and this one every 5
minutes…for TWO HOURS.


At exactly 7:20 p.m.,
Eastern Standard Time, the floodgates opened. EBGames’ servers got demolished.
It is difficult to describe just how painfully slow the site became. Checkout
was mind-bendingly long. As I was about to enter my credit card information,
the site returned me an error. I stared for a second as realization sunk in,
and then proceeded to freak out. Frantically, I clicked “Back” in hopes that it
wasn’t too late. It brought me back, and I went to enter my credit card
information once more. To my luck and by the grace of God, it went through this
time. I entered my information, and clicked on the daunting oversized “SUBMIT”
button. The mouse click felt heavier than usual.

10 seconds later, I received a congratulations on my
purchase. A confirmation was included as well as a receipt of my purchase.


A truncated version of the receipt, you ask?

Shipped Items:
Title Platform Qty. Status Price
Resistance: The Fall of Man Official Strategy Guide
1 Shipped $14.39
Game Informer 12 Month Subscription
1 Shipped $19.98
PS3 Wireless SIXAXIS Controller
1 Shipped $49.99
Product Replacement Plan Internet Only
1 Shipped $49.99
Untold Legends: Dark Kingdom
1 Shipped $59.99
Madden NFL 07
1 Shipped $59.99
Ridge Racer 7
1 Shipped $59.99
NBA 07
1 Shipped $59.99
Marvel Ultimate Alliance
1 Shipped $59.99
Resistance: Fall of Man
1 Shipped $59.99
Sony PlayStation 3 (20 Gig)
1 Shipped $499.99

Sub-Total: $994.28
Handling (No additional shipping fee): $42.48
Tax: $69.60
TOTAL: $1,106.36

As you can tell, I did not merely purchase the system
itself. I also purchased $500 worth of goodies to go along with it.


The package is arriving to me tomorrow.


I’m a happy boy, you could say.

Day 5, Friday, November 10, 2006

The elevators in this hotel are at the zenith of
functionality. I reside on the sixth floor. When I call for the elevator, it
has a funny habit of skipping right over my floor.

Let’s say it was currently on the 8th floor. As I
press the button, a plastic border illuminates with a bright red. The digital
readout of what floor the elevator is on changes from 8 to 7, from 7 to 6, and
then 6 to 5. During the second step of this procedure, the elevator must have
made a conscious decision in the form of, “Fuck you. I don’t want to carry you
down to the main floor. Head for the stairs asshole.” So in the sense of
ultimate functionality, these top of the line elevators have actually broken
down humans to quite literally begging and pleading with these cold
machines. Perhaps it is another step toward the eventual revolution of the
machines and the enslavement of the warm fleshbags, I mean humans.


The Transporter 2 was playing in the theater today. I’ve
seen the movie 3 damned times now. It’s a good film, really. The Audi A8
(W12!!) that Jason Statham pilots during the film is a spectacular vehicle.
It’s automatic, which is stupid (especially given Statham’s “uber
driver/transporter” status), but it’s still a beautiful car. I kinda liked the
bitch with the twin Uzis, too. The fight scenes were great. Statham is a unique
type of badass; he’s not all macho, and he doesn’t overdo the arrogance bit. I
also hear he does his own stunts. I still haven’t seen Crank, either.

Near the end of the film, Statham jumps into a Lamborghini
Murcielago. That exhaust note just makes me shiver. Again, it was equipped with
that paddle shifting DSG bullshit, which is downright idiotic in as pure a
supercar as a Lambo. To those not in “the know,” DSG or Direct Shift
Gearbox is a new innovation in consumer automobiles that originated from
Formula 1. DSG allows you to shift up or down using steering wheel mounted
paddles or a shifter on the console. It’s an automatic transmission that’s
trying to offer the fun of manual, essentially. You hear all this bullshit that
it can shift in fractions of a second and it offers incredible performance
benefits. Well guess what? .002 second shifting is entirely pointless outside
of Formula 1. For that matter, any Dick or Harry can flip a paddle or toggle a
switch. With DSG, the whole fun of stick is gone. A double clutch rev-matched
5-3 downshift is some of the most fun shit you can possibly imagine. And it
also requires a little more capability on your behalf than just flipping the
left paddle twice. It actually takes a little dexterity to operate 3 pedals and
a shifter. At best, DSG transmissions are “neat.” That’s all I’ll give them.
But I’d still take a 6 speed manual over that shit without thinking twice.

Thanksgiving break. SWEET.
May be getting a call too.

Quick in between vacation posts update post.

Things are well.
Half day tomorrow. SICK.
I’m singing System of a Down for Solo Day tomorrow. Yeah. “Tentative” from “Hypnotize.”
I can sort of heel toe now. (Esoteric term that only stick drivers understand)

Irony has a neat knack for uncovering phonies. Or hypocrites at any rate. Names? Do you think me foolish?

“Up the Down Staircase” was spectacular. The emotion was a palpable thing, really. Only gripe was that Alice needed more exposition; she’s in the hospital…AND?! Little more background would have been nice. Otherwise, Ms. Sylvia Barrett’s performance was incredible, I thought; heartfelt and gripping.

Oh, Borat was the funniest fucking shit I’ve seen in a long time.

ARGH! The awkwardness of youth. Bitches. Anonymous stalking is so sophomoric, literally.

Day 4, Thursday, November 09, 2006

It is exactly 7:00 p.m.,
as I sit here nursing a glass of rum. A delightful warmth I simply adore is
coursing through my chest right now.


I may not have ever given Jack Daniels a try, but I think I
can safely say a nice glass of rum is my favorite liquor.


Today, we partook in an activity outside of the hotel
grounds. We took a city bus over to some lagoon hotel where they host speed
boat and snorkeling tours. Half the tour sucked. And half of it ruled. The
speed boat part was the latter.

The speed boats were equipped with 30hp little Hondas. Now
this isn’t much, but God are those things a fucking blast. Not only are these
boats not equipped with much testicular fortitude, but our boat also had to lug
3 people, instead of 2. Given these circumstances, our boat pushed like a
champ. Out of a group of 5 boats, ours was the very last one. I had to go full
throttle just to keep up with the pack.

Driving these things is really like playing a videogame, I
think. The boat in front of you leaves waves trailing behind in a sort of
inverted V. The idea is to keep your boat in the middle of this V so as not to
rock. On the turns, I took great pleasure in riding the boat to the very edge
of these waves. The boat made quite impressive leans and I thought my mom might
have a heart attack right there.

Once we got to the snorkeling site, we got on our gear and
jumped in. I’m sad to say this snorkeling experience did not compare to the one
I had in the Dominican; there were hardly any fish, the ones that were there
were gray and bland, and the coral wasn’t even interesting to look at. It
essentially boiled down to following the guide around in a circle for a half
hour. The speed boat ride home made me feel better, though.


I was watching TV drunk today, and I caught quite an
interesting program. On the E! channel, there was plastic surgery program going
on. I’m just flipping channels, and WHAM! I get tits in my face. Now picture
your reaction as you would if you were functioning normally. Now picture
your reaction when you can safely be diagnosed as fucked to the wall.
Instead of expectedly becoming aroused, I found this hilarious.

I was having a fucking blast. Some bitch was getting tit
implants, and having her ugly ass witch nose reduced. She had some disgusting
hump going, and she felt that paying thousands of dollars to hide her shame was
a worthwhile endeavor.

Another chick was fatter than Buddha. Actually, she was
skinny. But she had a shitload of belly fat going on. When she tucked it in, it
was all good. So she went to get liposuction. As she was getting diagnosed by
the doctor, her genitalia get blurred out. I find this hysterical. (Note: To
the sober person, this may not even grant a chuckle. But when I’m drunk,
anything out of the ordinary is absolutely uproarious.)


Oh, by the way, it’s 7:16
right now, and I am fucked up. I don’t particularly enjoy interacting
with my parents when I’m fuck drunk, but I guess I don’t have a say in the
matter anymore, now do I? 


Another drunk update. 7:32, my typing skills are heavily
impaired, and I bless God for Word’s capabilities of auto-fixing spelling


Tonight, sometime around 10:00,
I tried a gin and tonic. This is nothing like what I expected, and that’s
probably understandable since I haven’t the faintest idea what the fuck tonic
is. It’s carbonated gin. Take seltzer (or “sparkling water”, the
horrendously pretentious French variant on the beverage), pour gin in it.
Voila, gin and tonic.

Day 3, Wednesday, November 08, 2006

Good day. Sunbathed. Played a little ping pong. Watched TV
drunk. Perfect way to spend a day in Cancun.


Today at the theater, X-Men 3 was playing. Now I’ve only
seen the first one. And I may have to watch the sequel when I get home, because
this movie was very very cool. This movie was an orgasmic overload of special
effects, nothing more and nothing less. Seeing the Golden
Gate Bridge
floating in mid air was quite the spectacle. And I love all the mutants and
their crazy shit too. Basically, for a geek like me, this was awesome.


I tried what’s called a screwdriver today. It’s a very plain
drink. It just tasted like pineapple and vodka. I’m much more a fan of the rum
and coke.


Tonight we had dinner at the hotel’s Japanese restaurant.

Yes, sushi was served as an appetizer and it was Goddamned
delicious. I threw the entire chunk of wasabi into the soy sauce, mixed it
altogether, and concocted a veritable brew of death. The sushi was nice
and varied, too. A few shrimp sashimi rolls, a couple of vegetable rolls.
Really good stuff.

And believe it or not, at 17 and ¾ of age, I finally
conquered the art… of eating with chopsticks. I am entirely serious. God
help me, I never knew how to use the fucking things. It was surprisingly easy,
actually; one stick remains immobile, and the other is used as a lever to move
up and down. Fascinating shit. And actually a bit of fun, too.

The main course was a steak cut into squares, so as to make
eating with chopsticks an actually feasible endeavor. I imagine I would
have had much fun fashioning a pair of chopsticks into a knife.


After dinner, we went out to walk around the town. Here, I
began to pay attention to the vehicles in the city. First of all, many models
are not native to the United States.
The new generation Jetta, for example, is called a Bora here. I caught site of
a Chevy Korba. Stupidest fucking name ever. There was also a Chevy Attitude (or
maybe a Hyundai?) It’s truly impressive when car manufacturers actually become
so fucking clueless as to what to call their cars that they resort to shit like

Just a fun fact: cars are ALL stick here. Every last one.

Day 2, Tuesday, November 7, 2006

Today, I saw The Da Vinci Code in the hotel theater.


I am glad that I missed it in theaters, because if I spent
$9.25 and 2 hours of my life on that trash, I would have never forgiven myself
for it. (Note: 2 hours of my life in Cancun is not
equivalent to 2 hours of my life at home, seeing as I find getting wasted, for
instance, as productive over here.)

The film was stupid and boring. And God were there plot

First of all, Leigh Teabing was fat as I remember from the
book. Here, he was an anorexic 80 year old.

Secondly, in the book, it was raining outside during the
whole cryptex showdown in the museum. Here, the sun was shining and the birds
were singing “Zippity Fucking Doo Da.”

Lastly, Sophie and Langdon didn’t even make out in the end!
Although the one plus is that the actress playing Sophie is VERY cute.

That night, we went out to dinner at the Brazilian
restaurant. Wine was served. I enjoyed this wine very much. One could say too
much. By the 3rd glass, I was retarded. Some chick sat at the table
across from me. She had these gorgeous round brown eyes. Beautiful blond hair
held back in a ponytail. This girl was in the simplest sense, banging.

Then I began to doubt myself. I can’t see clearly 4 feet in
front of me when I’m sober. How well can I possibly discern a cute girl wasted?
The answer: not well at all.

I ask my father, “Is she cute at all?”

He looks at me oddly, and replies, “She’s a crocodile.”

This disturbs me. Alcohol shouldn’t be able to do this to
me. Alcohol and I are friends. Friends don’t let friends think fuglies are

As we walk out of the restaurant, I’m pleasantly wobbling
around like a fuckhead. I see another chick, and she’s looking pretty hot.
“Wait,” I tell myself, “this is just alcohol fucking with me again.” Dear God,
this inability to tell who’s hot and who’s not is probably the scariest effect
of drunkenness imaginable.

Day 0 Part 2 – Day 1

Day 0 Part 2

As we went up to our rooms, I was slowly creeping into
depression. My room was decent. Bed, bathroom, tv. Standard protocol. I go over
to the corridor to hang my coat, and suddenly, the most beautiful thing in the world
catches my eye: four full size bottles of tequila, vodka, rum, and gin standing
on tap line the wall. This isn’t a mini bar; it’s a fucking maxi bar. My heart
skipped a beat and I felt faint. Maybe this vacation won’t be so bad after all!

Day 1, Monday,
November 6, 3006,


I think I consumed more alcohol today than every other day
of my life combined.


Mind you, I never got fuck drunk, per se. But my buzz
was maintained for much of the entire day through a combination of shots, White
Russians, and Black Russians. The first time I ventured over to a bar, I got a
White Russian with no problems (remember, a red wristband indicates that I
cannot have alcoholic beverages.) The next time, I tried to get a Black
Russian. The guy handed me the glass, and as I was walking away, he exclaims,
“Hey! Hey!” Seeing as I was caught red handed (or, perhaps, red wristed), I
suppose I had no choice but to surrender the drink. But before I did, I took a
big gulp right in front of the fuck.


Fuck these douchebags. I have an entire fucking bar in my


As I walked back to my room, I was healthily drunk. I walked
in, made myself a rum and coke and lay down to watch a little TV. I think
something that everyone should do at one point or another in his or her lifetime
is watch Dora the Explorer…wasted. The hilarious part about Dora the Explorer
is that over here, it’s in Spanish. The show is about a Mexican little girl
Dora and her retarded monkey pet, Boots. In the States, the show educates
little American boys and girls to learn small Spanish phrases in order to
culture them and add to their acceptance of various ethnic backgrounds. Here,
it’s vice versa; the entire show is in Spanish and various little bursts of
English pop out. As if the show isn’t hilarious enough when you’re plastered,
hearing some Spanish voice over spit out malformed English is just Goddamn


I also happened to catch a movie on TV. It was some old
flick with Nicolas Cage and what seemed like Sarah Jessica Parker to me. I
actually liked the movie. Cage lost a shitload of money to some casino boss,
and in order to settle the debt, he had to let his fiancée spend the week with
the guy. But the guy had a motive to actually get the chick to fall in love
with and marry him. Long story short: the bad guy and her didn’t get married,
Cage jumped out of a plane for her, they kissed and married, and the entire
audience said, “AWWWW!”, went home and masturbated.


Today, I gained a newfound affection for rum. It is
delicious. While vodka is elementary and plain (it is literally alcohol
distilled from wheat or potatoes), rum has flavor and body. I treated myself to
more than a few shots over the course of the day.


That night, I ventured over to the discotheque, and I got my
first taste of the “clubbing atmosphere.” It fucking sucks. The music is shit.
The girls are fat and ugly. And the fact that I’m sober is not fucking helping
things at all. These places are tolerable when and only when you are
wired to the tits.  

Day 0, Sunday, November 5, 2006

Wake up was at 5:45
in the morning for me today.

Not because we had to leave so early to warrant such an
early awakening, but because I wanted one last ride in my Miata. I took a
shower, got dressed, and headed off.

At 6 in the morning, the roads are empty. This makes Miata
and I a very happy couple.

I took this last opportunity in my Miata to set a new first
for myself: going more than twice over the speed limit. What was the speed
limit and where did I do it, you ask? Ryders, where the speed limit is 40mph,
and I piled a head spinning 90mph. Words cannot do this experience any justice
whatsoever. So I’ll just leave it at that.

So I got home, and about a half hour later, we set off
for JFK Airport.
Our flight was to take off at 10:50 a.m.
On international flights, passengers have to check in 2 hours in advance. We
had plenty of time to spare.

Then, in the footsteps of all modern thrillers, something
went terribly wrong. The Staten Island Expressway and the Verrazano
Bridge were closed off due to a
running marathon that was to take place that day. Traffic was pure and
elementary murder on the roads. Naturally, that put us in a rather fucked
position. Our only alternative was to go through The Holland Tunnel into Manhattan.
Manhattan is fun, let me tell you.
About as fun as chewing broken glass. By the time we got to the airport it was
10ish. To the check in, it was 10:20. We were too late. We were faced with two
options: take the flight tomorrow morning, or get on the standby list for a
connecting flight to Miami. We chose the latter.

There were two standby flights to Miami. One at 12:50, and
another at 2:55. By the grace of God, we managed to get on the 12:50 one. We
were given our tickets, and headed towards security. Some fat monkey was
rummaging through my backpack for obvious weapons of mass destruction (WMDs)
that I had cleverly concealed in there. His search proved fruitful, as he
triumphantly reached in and discovered a deadly tube of toothpaste hidden
within. With this toothpaste, I most certainly planned on squirting the captain
in the eye, thereby blinding him and causing him to crash the plane, ending
everyone’s lives, including my own, in kamikaze fashion. As the fat fuck went
through my shit, he actually started making small talk with me. It went
something like this:


Fat Fuck: How’s it going buddy?

Me: *staring with cold and unamused eyes* Not bad.

Fat Fuck: Well “not bad” is better than “bad”, right?


Desperately, I looked around for something to stab this stupid
motherfucker with.


The flight to Miami took 3 hours, but it was at Miami
airport where I bought the most delectable chicken Caesar salad this side of
wherever chicken Caesar salads were invented. To be quite honest, I was just
fucking starving at this point. The salad was in reality quite mediocre, and
ridiculously expensive (this is airport food, after all.) To comment on the
salad, the lettuce was in entire leaves. I am not a fucking cow. Cut the
fucking lettuce into pieces. The croutons were moldy, so they were really not
croutons at all, just moldy bread. And the chicken consisted of 3 strips in the
middle. Would it hurt to cut the fucking chicken? Seeing as I was starving
though, I devoured the salad in too short a time to complain about its flaws.

Once at Miami Airport, we managed to get on the connecting
Cancun flight and finally be on our way. When we finally arrived to Cancun, it
was about 9:00 p.m. So we essentially lost a day of vacation.

We claimed our baggage, and went through Mexican customs,
after which we climbed into the van that was to take us to our hotel. We got to
the hotel, and the guy at the counter gave us our wristbands. He looked at me
closely, and asked if I have ID. I showed him my driver’s license and with his
master’s degree in subtraction and addition, he deduced that I was 17 years
old. He slapped a red wristband on me, and tan wristbands on my parents. I was
enraged. This can’t be happening to me. I did not plan on spending a week here