You heard right, folks! Dr. Harry and I somehow convinced our wives that a joint family vacation to Puerto Vallarta would be light on the loco and heavy on the family time. They should have known better–we didn’t bring the video camera just to catch footage of our kids’ explosive diarrhea! No ma’am, this was to be a working vacation.

Educate, entertain, and learn the Spanish phrase for “Do you know a good divorce lawyer?”

Due to the combined magic of recession, swine flu, and raging drug war we were actually able to stay at the Grand Velas Resort, a fabuloso all-inclusive. We had access to unlimited awesome grub and high end booze like Pabst Blue Ribbon, Wild Turkey, and Dos Peso Pablo–the south-of-the-border equivalent of Two Buck Chuck (like fine Tequila, it contained a worm at the bottom…unlike fine Tequila, the worm was not dead).

Unfortunately for Dr. Harry, unlike in Hawaii, this symbol is apparently some sort of drug cartel sign in Mexico. Luckily, we had enough ransom money to get him back.
Guac this way. Dysentery 1, ZDoggMD 0.



We’d like to extend a hearty gracias to Nestor, the Gym Concierge, for graciously cooperating with our antics. He was worried about his English, but it was better than Dr. Harry’s. Confidence boosted, he started piping in with comedic gems of his own: “What if I come in dressed as a chicken holding dumbbells, and then…” Luckily, at that point Dr. Harry’s Montezuma’s Pre-venge kicked in and we beat a hasty retreat back to our rooms–mostly to plan how we were going to incorporate a weightlifting chicken into our next video.

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