I'm such a tease

Back from chumming the sea with freshly eaten cod and shrimp raviolis. Someone should have warned me that mixing two dinner entrees, a towering buffet plate that would make Babe Ruth say, "Damn, my boy, that's a crap load of food," and two well alcohol-downed Jack and Cokes is dangerous when the water is as choppy as chef at Benihana.

Here are some of the highlights, day by day, with a promise of more to come by the end of the week (call this foreplay if you want):

Sunday: Tremendous shrimp raviolis despite their unfortunate outcome (hello toilet bowl, you're my friend tonight), free booze from our new friends Manolo and Ricky at the Schooner Bar and watching my two rock star friends make a pair of songs their bitches during Karaoke night. They tried to get me up there - I was going to throw down on some J. Geils Band "Centerfold" - but luckily for the Vision of the Seas crowd the alcohol was too overpriced forcing me to watch my consumption/cash flow ratio.

Monday: Lost $55 in just 1 hour between blowing 3 hands in a blackjack tournament and scuttling $35 for six whole Bingo cards. It took Wife and I a while to wipe "Sucker" from our foreheads. Fancy dinner saves the day as I munch down snails (yep, the same snails we crunched with our shoes when we were kids - or just last week), lobster bisque (my favorite soup, I'd bathe in it and use if for aftershave if I could) and then tore through a duck for dinner (not sure if it was Daffy or Donald).

Tuesday: Cabo San Lucas and our introduction to Mojitos thanks to Angela's parental units. It has mint and sugar in it, other than I don't know. It could be a Mexican dude taking a leak in each glass for all I care, it still spells yummy. We did this at Sammy Hagar's joint - Cabo Wabo - which after taking a pull from Jerry's Waborita (Sammy's fave the bartenders say) I down my own. It's blue, so I had to suspend my ban on drinks of color (unnatural color). But unlike most blue drinks, it doesn't taste like sweet Windex.

Wednesday: City tour of Mazatlan where the driver takes us to an open-air fish mart that is no where near the ocean, instead it's in the middle of town and is comprised of a dozen or so blue over-turned trash buckets used as tables and busboy trays filled with various seafood items, including Jumbo shrimp. Try small-dog sized shrimps, not those shrimpy shrimps you find in Top Ramen. Order Tequila Sunrise on board, and find it's more tequila than sunrise. Quest game after dinner (I'll say that one female member of our group watched the last part of the game topless while a male member wore women's clothing and lipstick then paraded around the dance floor ... read the day-to-day posts when I get them finished) which left many people in the lounge in various stages of undress. Can't beat that, can you?

Thursday: Puerta Vallarta where I became a spider monkey in the morning, and felt like a spider monkey in the evening. All I have to say is "dos para uno mojitos. Gracias." My new favorite Spanish saying.

Friday: No where to go but the ship. Walked around the track hoping a side passage would open up to another mainland port that would produce more fun, but none showed. But with p.m. snacks of hot dogs and Ben & Jerry's ice cream (the Dogs were my favorite price - free), I really couldn't complain. Plus it was lobster night! Three was my total, but I could have tripled that number with my eyes closed

Saturday: Finally did the rock wall on the ship. Ring three bells 200 feet above the ocean. Screw that punk Leo DiCaprio, I'm king of the frickin' world. Day just got better from there with a dinner of shrimp cocktails, orange salmon blossom, and pasta in vodka salmon sauce. Oh yeah, this is what heaven is like, mix and match foods so your mouth orgasms every night. Our favorite bartenders tell us we can have free drinks if we get on the next cruise. Little do they know that I was thisclose to buying the ticket before Wife found me and pulled me through the ship's purser area by my ear.

Sunday: Disembarkation day. I ain't ready to leave, and the group must pull me away from the breakfast buffet. I throw a 34-year-old's tantrum, hanging onto the waffle bar, tears streaming down my face, yelling "Hell no, I won't go."

But now I'm home and no matter how much I beg Wife won't put together a choice of dinner appetizers and entrees, like the ship's nightly menu. I'm stuck with either Campbell's Clam Chowder soup or a dog biscuits. It's not exactly choosing between lobster tails and prime rib, but it's a touch decision nonetheless.