T3H SUCK

Hey, I’ve been out for a while. My bad really, college has been a bitch here, there and everywhere. I still have to upload some wedding images, so don’t forget about this site for now. Please

 I’m without a desktop, so video editing has been halted again, although it should be up by this monday. Not really. I’ll still have a lot of work to finish, so video will be in t3h stuck for now. I’ll get on the images soon, they’re funny enough.

I recommen Nightwatch as a movie and book to watch and read this weekend. It a hyperfantasy written by Sergei Lukyanenko (I learned his name by memory, not easy), where the world is inhabited by supernatural humans called “others” whom mantain a strict truce, divided as Good and Evil. The descriptions are awesome, and the endings to all three stories are jaw dropping and they all fit. The movie takes on the books material but it is a different production altogether. Watch it, or read it, but you’ll certainly be hooked!

And thus, the consumed doth consume the consumer

Whoops. Kinda sorta forgot to wish you guys a Happy Thanksgiving and do something related. Well, I’m still on time… in some part of the world. Oh well, hope you guys had awesome pavo and arroz con gandules and pernil and batatas and “pie” de calabaza and ensalada de coditos y de papas and oh God the leftovers are calling to me I can’t eat anymore oh God why do you do this to me please make it stop I feel like I’m going to explode please make these voices shut up they’re not real what? juicy? i know your juicy but i cant eat anymor ive already had seconds of seconds and its just not right and what? gravy? and stuffing? so delisios im drolin so god mus rol to kichen eat evry ting in frige tank god is ony ones a yer

And now that I’ve regained some part of my sanity, I’ll share some pictures that have absolutely nothing to do with anything. It’s my way of saying thanks for your continued support and patience (by the way, Zeraphil is now desktop-less for a few days, so we ask that you please fight any urge you may have of forming an angry mob. Thank you).

Pictures after the break.

PeanutCup: My anti-study

Monday afternoon. Test in about 24 hours. Haven’t begun studying for it. Doesn’t seem like it’ll be happening for a while. Life is good.

Each day that passes that our video isn’t finished and placed online to be shared with the world, I shed a tear for each of those who anxiously sit in front of their computers with their browsers open to PeanutCup, refreshing as if their lives depended on it. But, faithful worshippers, being gods of entertainment and such, we require more virgin sacrifices so that we may serve you better. Not blood sacrifices, though… that’s just a waste of a good virgin. Just have them delievered to our rooms, and we’ll handle the sacrifices of their virginity. We will be most thankful if you can find a virgin that might know why Premier is having a hard time showing a preview of the project on Zeraphil’s (whoops, I used his real name, did anyone notice?) computer, one of the reasons why the video has yet to be released. Having to create a video file everytime we want to see a preview of the project is extremely inefficient.

Zeraphil currently has an ongoing streak of… eyebrow shifting posts. I fear that some readers will be left behind, being isolated by his ongoing antics, but ’tis quite all right. We only hang with the best of the best, and that means people that can stomach a little abuse here and there; pansies need not apply. I am the sugar of PeanutCup, and he the spice. I… bah, nevermind, I was going to use a bunch of analogies, but they all suck. The closest one I could think of was Piro and Largo, but that would mean Zeraphil gets the better half of that pair, and there’s no way in hell I’d agree to that. But… well, maybe a little spacing between one outrageous post and the next would be nice. A PeanutCup first timer would be somewhat weirded out to see gay porn, followed by lesbian porn.

We’ve got nothing concrete for what our next project will be, but we might go the way of just a normal video… well, normal being “not stop animation.” There shall be no “normal” productions from PeanutCup. It is the oath that we drew blood upon when PeanutCup was formed. We’re still looking into other things we can do to give you more of an incentive to come back frequently, but until then, we shall continue to rely on our wit and charm. I’m sure you guys don’t mind.

And with PeanutCup business out of the way, we move on to other matters. Short matters, though. I *really* need to start studying…

• Was able to get my paws upon my friend’s Wii. Wii Sports was a blast, definitely something I’d be able to come back to every so often with other people. And Twilight Princes… simply gorgeous. I was a bit disappointed with how the well-lit portions of the game looked, but that may simply have been the TV it was on, or the lack of component cables. I’d love to have a Wii, but really, I can wait. 21 years without one, what’s a few more months? And don’t people grow out of the “haha! I have one, you don’t!” phase before high school? Come now, it’s not something I’d expect from university students. For shame, names-that-I-shall-not-mention-but-instead-divert-your-attention-to-the-blogroll, for shame. I’m not so materialistic as to waste my time waiting outside of a store for something that I know I’ll get eventually. In the meantime, I shall mooch off my friends’ commodities (who claim they have no money, but in reality do. Really now, who are you trying to impress by saying you’re poor? Leave those bragging rights to those who actually deserve them!). [Small update: Different parts of my arm are sore from having played with the Wii... two days after having played! It's almost embarrassing. But I'm not the only one; everyone I've asked is sore too. I would suggest stretching before and after use of the Wii.]
• PS3s crashing ZOMG!
• So true
• If you’re from Puerto Rico and like good garage bands, then Silicon Fusion is for you. They don’t have music on their MySpace yet, though. Lame!

Champagne, Wine, and Vodka

….definetly don’t mix.

The day: Friday.

The Event: My cousin Allison’s wedding.

The time: 10:00pm and beyond.

The reasons: My cousins were drinking, they were free.

The disadvantages: I have two hardcore exams  on Tuesday, needed to wake up early on Saturday (the day after).

The story: It was the reception of my cousin’s wedding. I won’t explain much, because it’s another post that I’m writing about what happened at the ceremony. I arrived at the reception, and the first thing up the flight of fancy stairs was the table and the bartender. “Want something?” I browsed over the cups and saw a very nice bottle of red wine. “That.”  The rest is history.

The drinks: Two cups of wine. The champagne toast (this is the part that the alcohol got me good, the champagne was strong as hell.) Then, 2 madras (big glasses, about 10 oz, of cranberry, orange, and Absolut vodka) then, half a glass of my dad’s left over Chivas Regal and 7Up (that tastes like shit, but I was already fucked up), then, and half a madra my gf left over (I think of those that don’t have, and I don’t want to waste good alcohol), and finally, one final madra of my own.

The ending: I wasn’t driving, so I was pretty happy about that. I don’t remember getting home, though I remember dropping off Kari. I woke up with a nasty headache, and a stomach revolution that lasted throughout the whole day. I was whoozy and wasted the entire Saturday, and I had to study for my Genetics test. Bad bad bad.

The funny: Yeah, I was screwed, but check this hilarious part. Headaches, most of them, are caused by vasoconstriction of the capillaries that run throughout your brain. Ok, so I had this huge headache in the back of my skull, and I remembered this little thing. So, if blood is in my head, what is the fastest way I know that can reroute it out of my head and thus relieve the pressure? I’ll give you a hint, click here.

Yeah, that’s right! All I had to do was think happy thoughts, and I swear to you, it worked. The pressure was relieved, and while I still had my stomach rumbling, my head didn’t hurt anymore. ‘Course, I had the other head to worry about now, didn’t want to poke my eye out or anything, but that was more manageable.

Now you know guys, this is a little hint that is sure to help you in those hangover days! And it’s not too hard of a solution, either, isn’t it???? *wink wink*

Also, stay tuned, I’ll be writing about the hilarious turn of events that led to the funniest wedding I’ve ever been at. Later!

Merry Christmas, Carlos!

As part of my ongoing series of showing Christmas Presents, I’d like to evaluate with our fellow readers my gift to Carlos. As you know, Carlos has been under heavy fire these past few days, (See Genius, Incarnated) so, as a good, charitable soul I am, this gift is bound to bring happiness towards him. What I got him you ask? Well, anything that matches with his lovely personality. I took hints from several posts Ipsum has made over his behaviour, and so I give you the gift. ( I also cheated and asked Ipsum what was on Carlos’ wishlist.)

*Drumroll*

Merry Christmas Carlos.

Ipsum’s Manly Gift (courtesy of Viv Thomas)

I would like to show you what I got Ipsum for Christmas at his request. I’ve scanned the cover. (Kids, don’t watch this at home.) PS. This is also an effort to redeem myself over the recent Kotex inspection.

…

YUM!!!

……. Just kidding. Just wanted shocked reactions.

Wrong blog, buddy

Search Engine Terms

These are terms people used to find your blog.

Today

Search
underwear under pantyhose blog

Views
1

You sick, sick bastard.

[Update: I did the search myself on Google, and PeanutCup does indeed turn up in the results... after 18 pages. Whatever they were looking for, they were hellbent on finding it]

What no Man should be put through, pt 2 and 3

(Notice: Click on the links, this is a hypertext work that uses those links to help with visual aids (if you don’t know what they are, that is.) Also, this is, like the damn title says, the second [and third] part of the series. If you haven’t read the first part, I strongly suggest you scroll down or click here.)

II.

Johnny approached me in a casual, tranquil manner. He’s a PhD, ya know? “Well, there’s a Walgreens near the Americo Miranda. It’s not far, just through the Infirmary building, cross the street, take a left and walk until you find the mall.” I nodded, smiling shyly, maybe even embarrassed. My eyes darted to the sides like moths circling a lightbulb. Bad move, Dave, this guy’s a PhD. A researcher. A gamer. He knows how and what to observe. And he observed. “You need to go there now?” He asked, eyeing me cautiously, like a drug lord inspecting newly arrived merchandise. I gulped. The need to evade his question was there, but I couldn’t.

“Yes.” I told him, edging slightly away and towards the door, sliding my feet on the floor, dancing a waltz out and away from the lab.

“What for?”

Damn you. He asked quickly. Too quickly. I was unprepared. But I didn’t blush. I don’t blush. Cherry’s not my color. But I did smile stupidly, and that was more than enough. C’mon, pull yourself together, lie, shout, ignore, anything, just be casual about it. “Uhhh…” Great. Very casual, numbnuts.

You don’t “uhhh” researchers. Or investigators. Especially young ones. This guy, he’s a PhD. Didn’t take him long to figure it out. Hell, he was sharper than cheddar, a real wise guy. He got to the point faster than an electric pencil sharpener, the big ones, industrial sized. “So, you’re buying tampons?”

Bam. You’re dead.

Genius, incarnated

It’s somewhat annoying to have all these different people making blogs now, being that I’m Andrew, and I tend to act like myself (hopefully this’ll be the last time I feel the need to link to that post), and relevant things to blog about get blogged by others first. But that’s OK, I still love them. Besides, we’ll see just how many of these stand the test of time. If anything, I guess I could see it as having the work done for me, which is never a bad thing…

On that note, Apox had a stroke of genius last Friday. For a recollection of that night’s events, I point you to here. Thinking out of the box… and right into the toilet.

Now, let’s talk about my roommate (Carlos). Again. In all honesty, I could dedicate this whole blog to my roommate, and only my roommate, and it’d be bustling with activity. I refrain from making constant posts about him, though; I just pick his best moments. His breed of specimen can’t even be considered to be one of a kind; in order to have a “kind,” there have to be several beings that share the qualities being considered for the “kind“. Nobody, and I mean nobody, can set so much as a foot on being similar to that man (and I use the term “man” very loosely, inclining it more towards “creature”). It’s something that really isn’t fathomable to anyone who hasn’t at least met him, but the following picture should decimate even the strongest of doubts:

“Wow… he’s using using his laptop. So what?” Well, for one, you can’t see that he’s half naked. Top half, mind you, but he tends to be as naked as he can without actually being naked. Always. Thanks to him, everybody in our damn building thinks we are more than just roommates, having opened the front door just out pure curiosity (as in, nobody had knocked on the door) while dressed in nothing but a loosely wrapped towel, only to be seen by a handful of people. But no, his being half-naked is not the subject of the post. Let’s take a closer look at the picture:

If you have what some would like to call a “life,” then you probably still don’t understand what the significance of this picture is. Pat yourself on the back while I explain. Notice the positioning of his hands, particularly the left hand. This is commonly known as the WASD position (pronounced Wah-s-duh), and is used for just about every computer game, where the W, A, S, and D keys control your character’s movement. Now, direct your attention to what’s on screen. It’s somewhat blurry, but you’ve probably been able to make out that it’s an MSN Messenger window. If it hasn’t hit you yet, he’s using the WASD position for MSN Messenger. I can’t imagine why anyone would use the WASD position for Messenger, unless you normally type with one hand and plan on only using those 4 keys:

Person: Hey! How are you?
Carlos: sad
Person: What’s wrong?
Carlos: saw dad
Person: So?
Carlos: was sad
Person: Why?
Carlos: sawd wad daws
Person: …Now I remember why I hate you

Clearly, such conversation would not get very far. And, clearly, there is something very wrong with Carlos.

I wish that that were all I had to say about him. I wish that I could just say he’s a bit weird and move on. This is hardly the case, though. Oh no, quite the contrary. The post is titled as such for a reason that is funny now, but was not always funny, and is a foreshadow to what awaits me next semester. The stories are getting better and better, and it doesn’t look like this source of writing material will be depleted for a very, very long time.

Just about every Friday, I leave as quickly as possible from the outer layer of Hell that is Mayaguez, with my sister in tow. Last Friday was no different, albeit the antics of my roommate (wait, this was last Friday too? Did Earth’s gravity become slightly altered or something?). Almost 15 minutes out of Mayaguez with heavy, heavy traffic, my phone starts to ring while flashing the name “Carlos” brightly on te screen. I’m not sure what it is, but I seem to have the ability of knowing when a phone call is just to talk or to ruin my life. It felt like the semi-strobe light used to display “Carlos” felt like a warning that was trying to get in contact with my very soul and say “for the love of God do not answer the phone, you will regret it eternally, and your grandchildren will, too.” So I, not being one for making the best choices, decide to answer. What follows is an almost verbatim account of the conversation:

Carlos: “DUDE! WHERE ARE YOU?”
Me: “Almost 15 minutes out, why?”
Carlos: “DUDE! I need you to turn around right now, please!”
Me: “What, Why, what happened?”
Carlos: “Dude, I left the fucking keys in the apartment!”
Me: “…and you locked it?”
Carlos: “Yes! it was an accident!”
Me: “I would hope so…”
Carlos: “I need you to turn around right now and come open the door for me. Please man, I will suck your dick if you do this for me! PLEASE!”
Me: *silence*

Many dick sucking offers, and one heavy sigh later, I decide to turn around and help him out. I drive all the way back to the apartment, open the door for him, and receive much thanks (not in the form of dick sucking). The weekend comes and goes, and Sunday arrives rather quickly. I get to my apartment and reach for the handle while fumbling with my keys. To my surprise, I end up with a fistful of air instead of handle. Naturally, I attempt to grab the handle again, thinking I had just missed. I’m left with yet more air. Upon inspecting the handle, I notice that there is something very different… or rather, something missing, like the handle itself. Shock and fear perfectly describe how I felt at that moment, the thought of having had the apartment broken into running through my mind. But then I remembered the events of Friday, and quickly proceeded to call my roommate for an explanation, all the while thinking “there’s just no way he’d be that stupid”. The first thing he tells me is that the apartment had been broken into, but sensing my sudden shift in emotions, he tells me what really happened. He should have just stuck to the robbery story. That Friday night, the Friday that I had to turn around and open the apartment for him, he went and left the keys in the apartment again, and was forced to find someone with a hammer to open the door… at 3am. He lucked out, as such a person appeared out of nowhere, completely wide awake. One idiot and several hammer blows later, I’m left handleless.

And he still owes me a good sucking.

What no Man should be put through, part I

It all started with a vibration in my blue denim, like the rumbling of the ground in a Canadian avalanche. I was at work, mind you not the ice cream serving work other people my age do, this was serious business, real work, contemplating the latest experiment results with eyes glued on the flat screen like a fly on a mouse trap. I opened the cell phone, wearily flipping it in a manner of disinterest and speaking in short but sweet sentences like a good politician in a debate. “Hello” I said. The voice that came out was familiar, but desperate. It was the girl, my mistress, my lady, my honeybun, my pochoo, my…you get the idea. “David, this will sound weird, but I need your help.” Now why would that sound weird, I asked myself, finding no real answer but millions of possibilities in the endless sea of a woman’s request. I shifted my seat, checking the signal bars in my cellular. So much for “raising the bar”. The only thing that would be raised here would be my voice so it wouldn’t break. Note the cynical remark at the useless marketing motto of the company. Genius. “What do you need?” I replied, excited, like a child watching a swing set for the first time. I was desperate to know, these mysteries, they kill me, I tell ya. There was a long pause, like dreaded lag in an online game with a 56k modem. Long, frustrating. What could she need? “I need a big favor, a big big big favor.” She answered, emphasizing on each recurrent big with a desperate tone in crescendo. It was a musical masterpiece that only served in exasperating me, the listener, without giving off any real information. Like watching a Puerto Rican news channel focusing on politics; only with less noise. I tightened my grip on the phone. “I can tell, now what is it babe?” Had I known what she needed, I would never have felt so anxious in finding out that secret desire, that spinning distress she wove in my head. “I need you to get me a sanitary towel. I forgot to bring mine and I’ve had an…accident.”

You kill me babe, you kill me.

So there I was, my jaw fully open, even dislocated, like a python’s when it swallows its meal. The image flashed in front of my eyes. The store, the register, the line, and I confronting the cashier with ATM in one hand and sanitary towels in the other. This is a stick up, and this is not for me. I swear. And then laughter.

“You must be joking.” I replied, after a pause no longer than Britney Spear’s first marriage. “I really need one. Please.” She said, and then I noted misery in her voice. It was pure, genuine suffering. The thought of wearing moist underwear for an entire day ran into my head; the heat, the general discomfort of bloody panties clinging to the crotch like a fly to cow crap, walking with wet, sliding motions, that didn’t do it for me at all. “Alright, don’t worry, I’ll buy you some.” I said with a noticeable, deep strain in my voice, a mouse just barely missing the cheese trap, a fish that got caught in the line but managed to wiggle free.

The voice responded with a palpable sense of relief. “Thank you, my love.” I smiled, for a second there forgetting what I had actually agreed to. “No worries babe, I love you too.” Click.

Now, tell me Dave, what the hell are you thinking. This is something no man should be allowed to endure. No man on Earth. For a moment there I remembered the stupid shampoo commercial with the guy allowing himself to get run over by a girl twirling her hair after she asked him to buy her tampons. That day I had thought “what an idiot.” The jokes on you this time, Dave ol’ buddy.”

Right that moment a coworker entered the lab. He’s a nice fellow, well built, 30 years old but looks 21, has a PhD and is also a hardcore gamer. A guy worth taking as a role model. He’d help me out. “Hey Johnny”, I called after him. “Where’s the nearest pharmacy?”

To Be Continued