So, in the space of 60 photos - and significantly less words - get ready to sizzle folks. Slap on the sunblock, get out the chilly bin, slip into some jandals, and get ready for the hottest online action you can get, short of signing up to follow your friendly local congressman's tweets.
How considerate, summer is having a Grand Opening this year. Just in case all the incessant rain and cold left you confused.
Cherry blossoms as far as the eye can see. Rock's wondering why he can't spot any cherries. It's hungry work venturing across the terrible raging waters of the East River to the wild lands far beyond.
Mei waits for an opening so she can get her turn in.
The local Geisha school seems to have embraced a few select modern American techniques. Such as never walking when you can drive. Brings a whole new dimension to floating like a Geisha.
The cherry trees don't get it all their own way. The other locals are clamoring for a little attention themselves.
Flower power. The Brooklyn Botanic Gardens may not be on the island, but don't hold that against them. Lots of good things don't come from the island. Like the Mets. Err ok, we concede the point.
I think someone forgot to tell them the Gundam Wing isn't going to make it this year. Apparently Mega Tokyo is under attack from the vile Zechs and they can't spare a platoon.
To fit in around here, you need either an 15 foot Mech, or a sailor suit.
They don't call New York the melting pot just because Rock forgot to turn off the stove.
From the tranquility of a Japanese oasis hidden in the heart of gritty Brooklyn, to the wilds of the Pocono Mountains for the Memorial Day long weekend.
Don't tell me the booze has run out already? Someone brave the maundering bears and make a dash for the local saloon.
I'll raise you one marshmallow...
For Rock, a royal flush is only interesting when flushed down with an ice cold coca cola.
Let the games begin! Or, in Rock's case, end in yet another crushing defeat.
A bitter melon sandwich anyone? Guess you had to be there.
When cabin fever sets in, the wilderness is conveniently close by. Nothing like a walk in the woods to burn off lunch. Actually, sit's going to take something more like 40 days and 40 nights in the wilderness to work off those BBQ ribs.
Jeepers, it's hot when you can't just flag down a nice air conned yellow cab at the next corner.
Rock figures he could beat the long weekend traffic back to NY in one of these babies. Mei is inclined to agree, having sat through more than one "but this lane looked faster from back there" speeches.
The town of Jim Thorpe, Pennsylvania has the coolest name since Rochester, New York. How many towns bear the name of a legendary athlete? Excusing, of course, the aforementioned bright lights of Rochester.
Americana as far as the eye can see. Which ain't far when the main street is one block. 
Looks like the kind of place to order a sarsaparilla, pardners.
Some appropriately patriotic Memorial Day regalia. 
And with that, it's off to the next stop. Fast forward to the 35th running of the JP Morgan Corporate Challenge. Better known as the event where Goldman Sachers have to don the logo of their hated league table rival for the space of 3.5 sweaty miles.
The event is run in twelve cities around the world, but none can come close to the setting at the flagship New York event, where 30,000 bankers run like their bonus depends on it. Because in this economy, it probably does.
Just in case you get sick of watching type A personalities trying to get one up on the competition via color coordinated bespoke running kits.
Some more eye candy for those who enjoy looking at something other than Fortune 500 logos streaming past.
3.5 miles is over faster than Anthony Weiner's political career.
It may not yet be the pre-GFC glory days of fully catered BBQs, but at least Gatorade is back on the menu at the corporate tents. Even if the tents themselves are still gathering dust in the underutilized boom boom room.
Next on the summer agenda, a birthday cruise around the island. Or rather, that will be on the agenda after a brief detour to load up on chili cheese fries.
Given this is a beer tasting cruise, one hopes the crew will be the ones trimming the sails.
Don't worry, after the beer tasting no one will expect you to know your port from your starboard. Although you darn well better know your Broolyn Lager from your Williamsburg Pale Ale.
Anchors away landlubbers!
The cameras roll for Summer in the City 3. Careful, so much glamor in one place is rocking the boat.
This guy is rocking the boat too. Unfortunately in this case it has more to do with those cheesy chili fries.
How many times do the poor crew have to witness the drunken I'm the King of the World routine?
Careful, any further south and we might enter the dreaded Staten Island waters.
The sea breeze has been known to play havoc with carefully crafted hairdos.
Tough times on Wall Street. This poor fellow is nearly destitute; he had to trade his 60 foot speedboat for a mere sailboat.
Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses, yearning to breath free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore, Send these, the homeless, tempest tossed, I lift my lamp beside the golden door.
Why that's the most eloquent thing that's ever been said on this blog.
One bank to rule them all. Errr... I think you mean King Bernake and his Fortress Fed. 
