Hypocrisy: Is It Really That Bad?

Hypocrisy: Is It Really That Bad?


[Ed: So it turns out doing stuff from the lobby of a hotel in Mexico is sub-optimal.  Moving to a boutique tomorrow, so should be able to resume a quasi-normal schedule.  One thing I’ve learned on this trip: the E! Network in Mexico is not afraid to show naked ladies!  They probably save tons on that blurring technology – savvy business move.  Back to the pool.  Oh yeah, whatever powers that be that slashed the Achilles of my trading account over the last few days: thanks a fucking lot.  Chilly]


Hola, MFers, coming at you live from Cancun, Mexico.  Weather here is 700% better than the weather on the East Coast.  (Sure sign you’re old as fuck: the weather is a major concern.)  This is the view from our balcony – can you spot the topless chick?  Enjoying a glass of champagne….well, forcing down a glass of champagne under massive protest from my internal organs, still upset with my decision-making skills over the weekend.  Got five hours of sleep last night, got on the plane, slept four hours on the plane, got to the hotel, went to the pool, had 1/3 of a cup of beer, slept for 1.5 hours, went up to the room, slept/coughed violently enough to scramble the Mexican CDC for 2 hours, had dinner, considering sleeping for another 10-15 hours.

That reunion seriously ruined me; I might never be the same.  The fluid building up in my lungs is apparently 85% Cabernet/Jager.  I think at some point on Saturday night I was drinking red wine and vodka’s (like Red Bull and vodka, except hold the Red Bull and add some wine.  Previous name: Turbo Boone’s.)  And after that night we took the bus back to NYC.  Yep, the bus.  Sounds pretty lame for a hard-hitter such as myself, but on the way down to B-More (I swear I saw someone who looked just like Snoop but then turned out to be a dude.  Snoop from The Wire, not the rapper/entrepreneur.) the bus ride was my most enjoyable travel experience in like 5 years.  Boltbus (not B@ngbus – I didn’t have to have sex on film or anything) features free wifi and our two tickets cost a total of $12.  Got to Baltimore in three hours.  As seamless as the online-food ordering web.  The ride back was a different story – five hours.  Crowded bus.  Unexpected stops.  On-again/off-again wifi.  If Amtrak wasn’t so completely ridiculous farewise, we would’ve trained it back.  But still – if you are trying to get to B-More or DC, and don’t like to travel with live poultry (aka Chinatown bus-style), give Boltbus a try.  (Or B@ngbus, if you are really strapped for cash.)

Stayed at my first B&B over the reunion weekend.  (Well, I’ve actually stayed in a B&B about 200 times, but in the capacity of “drunken friend in basement room,” not as “paying customer.”)  Not that impressed.  For one, I hate breakfast.  I generally go straight to lunch (a devoted follower of this site might snidely note that I often wake up at a time more suitable for lunch than breakfast anyway.  My clever retort: fuck off.)  Second, I don’t like to make small talk.  If I’m gonna do any small talking, it’s going to be to random strangers on the internet who stumble upon my opinions about candy bars and fast food sauces.  (And for the braying masses: gravy is not a sauce as defined in that article, have you ever had a packet of gravy?  And that nuclear-0range colored onion ring sauce at BK?  Are you fucking kidding me?  I hate onions in all forms but Funyuns, and as disgusting as I am, I wouldn’t go near that shit with a 100 foot spoon even if I had a french fry or other delicious fried appetizer in need of a dipping sauce.)  Third, the disclosure can be pretty shady – I ponied up $280/night so that I wouldn’t have to risk sharing a bathroom (frequent night urinator/tooth brusher and at the time was suffering from some illness that required 2-3 hours of coughing up greenish-brown playdoh each morning).   Even though we had the entire top floor, they somehow snuck some fucker up there that we were sharing the bathroom with.  I never saw him/her, he/she was probably hiding in their room after hearing the Paranormal Activity-scariness of my phlegm-removal routine.  Hotels for me from now on.  (Although I’m writing this from the lobby of our hotel in Mexico – seems by “in-room internet extra fee” they actually meant “in-room internet not available at all, gringo.”  We are switching to a boutique in Isla Mujeres for the weekend, I bet they are as-advertised.)

Shit, I forgot all about the title of the post.  I’m considering maybe going back to work.  On the Street.  (And if you think you know where, you don’t.  Well, like two people do – but it’s not where you think.)


To be continued,

Chilly17, wasted potential no more?



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