Greetings again from Cancun!

The weather is hot, the skirts are short, and the drinks promote equal parts inebriation and diarrhea!

I’m your official CollegeHumor Spring Break ’07 Correspondent! This is my second day on the Peninsula of Paradise, and I have already learned an important lesson: College admissions boards exist for a reason. They weed out the weak, the stupid, and the undynamic. Those of us who are lucky enough to have made it through the obstacle course of college applications and are now of the university ilk have worked hard to earn our stripes. We are winners. We are leaders. We are people who can absorb knowledge and apply it. We compute, analyze, and summarize for nine long months each year. And, because of this, we deserve one week to let loose.

But, in that week, we cannot abandon the endless knowledge we have obtained throughout the year. We are intelligent people, and no amount of margaritas and beer bong hits is going to make us stupid, right?

We cannot ignore the lessons we have learned and the skills we have acquired. This became quite apparent to me today when I witnessed one spring breaker applying one such skill: multitasking.

Why, for example, would you waste time separately laying out, drinking, talking to your pal, and fingering a girl, when you could do all of these things at once?

Dear Sir or Madam,

I wish to file a complaint against two of your plumbers who, in my opinion, exhibited gross professional negligence and blatant disrespect while in my apartment to repair a clogged toilet. Though the employees refused to give their full names, I recall one being a short, pudgy man in red overalls, and the other tall and lanky in green overalls. Both had thick moustaches, and the short one, possibly a recuperating stroke victim, repeatedly shouted the name of your company in a high-pitched Italian accent.

I led the two gentlemen into the bathroom, explained the problem, told them I would be in the living room if they had any questions, and left them to their work. When I returned around half an hour later, however, I discovered the short one sitting cross-legged on the tile floor popping psychotropic mushrooms from a Ziploc bag, and the tall one—apparently tripping already—attempting to squeeze himself down my toilet and incoherently rambling something about getting to the "Mushroom Kingdom"—a place he appeared to already be in.

I went to the kitchen and began to call their supervisor. As I dialed, I heard a loud crash from my bedroom. I hung up the phone and ran over to discover the two had found their way in from the bathroom, and that the tall one had thrown my change jar to the ground and was scooping the coins up for, as he explained, "an extra life." Meanwhile, the short one was biting the heads off my girlfriend Christy's orchids. When I ran over to stop him, he warned me he now possessed the ability to shoot orbs of fire from his mouth.

At this point, I was more concerned over the two men's health, as well as the safety of my apartment. When I suggested calling an ambulance they began to panic. The tall one, under the delusion he could demolish brick walls with the top of his skull, ran headfirst into my bedroom wall, knocking himself unconscious. Then the short one jumped in the air, grabbed the lighting fixture above, ripped it from the ceiling and, screaming about his newfound "invincibility," leaped through my second-story window. Miraculously, he survived this fall, and continued to run down Union Ave. grasping my bedroom light and trying to squash every pigeon on the sidewalk he passed.