Damn, that boat puts lead in your pencil.
Once you've given the valet your customary buck-and-a-wink to safely dispose of your little red jetset-sled, jump on the cabin cruiser and set the GPS for ports unknown. In your Tretorn Smogen Suede Boat Shoes, you pad across the deck like a pudgy ninja in the throes of manopause. And where the hell's Buffy? That Harvey Wallbanger isn't gonna mix itself!