25 or 6 to 4

Hanging out with Pikkon will invariably leave you with a story to tell every time you do. More often than not, these stories will run the gamut from terrifying to embarrassing to horrifying.

Here I am at my house, it's eight or nine p.m., and Pikkon calls me up. "I WANT PANCAKES" he bellows. I got nothing better to do, so I accompany him to Denny's, where he finds out that pancakes aren't a main dish, but a side dish. After making the poor waitress wait a good while (he was on the phone most of the night), he finally orders a club sandwich.

So much for pancakes.

After an enlightening talk about the Military and its ranking system, and after making the waitress wait twice more (Pikkon ordered dessert, and then after the bill came, he ordered more food), we finally get up to pay. I lay down my ATM for my side of things, and Pikkon asks the cashier if he can bring his excess coins to pay with; Pikkon's had a couple of friends pay him IOUs in coins, for reasons unknown, and he wants to unload.


So, he walks out to the parking lot and walks in with a tupperware bowl full of coins. WUT.


Again, WUT.

I can only wonder what the cashier, and the dozens of people walking in and out of the restaurant thought of Pikkon's little stunt. So after 10 minutes of counting, we came to a grand total of $23.30, 3 bucks of which were pennies. WHY PIKKON WHY. As you can see from the pictures, he shows no shame in the fact that we are now probably banned from this particular Denny's. The cashier was a good sport about it, and another customer actually WANTED all of Pikkon's pennies, so she exchanged them for dollars, which just added to the lulz of it all...

Oh, and when we got back to his house...

Pikkon showed me that there was more where that came from.

orz.

Twice more, with feeling

Let's give this another shot, shall we?

I've been meaning to change things up a bit, and move the focus a bit from me ranting aimlessly to me taking pictures aimlessly and ranting about that. I won't erase the previous posts, but I'll be pretty much considering this the zero post from now on. That doesn't mean that I've forgotten about all those PuDS out there... You're all still on probation. Anyways, I haven't had a camera of my own in years, so now that I've got a little point-and-shoot Nikon, I need to make up for all those years I've spent not taking pics of every little insignificant thing I find. Keep in mind, this is for fun, so don't expect expert composition, masterful lighting, or any other poser photography dicksuckery.

I wanna begin with a note of nostalgia. When I was a young boy (after my father took me into the city), me and my neighbor used to play with his LEGOs day in and day out. His dad would always get him big, piece-laded sets and we would lay all the blocks out in our front yards and build anything that came to mind. Thanks to my (still) overactive imagination, epic starfighters and motherships and grand space operas soon began taking shape. LEGOs weren't the only construction equipment to our imaginations- does anyone remember K'nex? Or Zaks? Look them up if you're ready for a nice hit of nostalgia, or alternatively to see what you missed, you childhoodless heathen.

Anyways, as is always the case, as the years passed, the LEGOs were put away but never forgotten when video games came into our lives. Well, back in February, I decided to do a little Spring cleaning and lo and behold, look what I found:

My Lego/Zaks stash!

Upon seeing them, I very quickly started remembering how to put them back together and their individual stories... I felt myself turn 8 again.

This little mech has a beam sword and a shield, and vernier thrusters out back. Yes, even then I needed my fantasies to have practicality to them.

This would be the red mech's rival. Couldn't find his other arm....

F-15E Strike Eagle, because even as a young child, I knew that the Hornet sucks, and that the Eagle and the Tomcat are superior.

These two are one-person speeders, because speeders are awesome.

This whole mess is the inside of a large, square Millennium Falcon-type ship, what with powerful weapons and living quarters and stuff. Yes, I was a budding nerd even at that tender age. Those red and black dudes are grunts, with the little LEGO figures as the protagonists.

Yes, they are all very dusty, it's been years since they've seen the light of day. I'm in a dangerous position right now: my imagination and desire to play with LEGOs has only increased since I was a kid, and now I actually have the money to keep buying sets... You guys better learn to be careful of the past you dig up- it might end up costing you...

Disparate musings of one shafted by the TSA

Ok, so it took me a bit longer than a week. You guys oughta be used to it by now. In fact, you should check out my DeviantArt page- I was away for around nine MONTHS there. Yes, I'm the very definition of a lurker.

Obviously, a lot has happened in between, and I'd be hard-pressed to remember all of it. In fact, I can barely remember what I was doing before I logged in today. It's been a sleepy semester for me- went by very quickly, but at the same time it felt like it dragged on. Then again, that's how it usually feels, doesn't it? My friend is playing Yoshi's Island DS right beside me, and I hate him for it. With any luck, he will be stricken down by random act of nature, say, a stray piece of the ISS falls and knocks him out, freeing him of his DS duties so that I may abscond with the game. Yes, I said duties.

Oh, and about last time, I just wanted to mentioned that while perfectly understandable, there's a lot of pages that default to Spanish when I visit them, including Blogger. Everything computer-related just reads so very weird in Spanish- mostly because it seems to be written in European Spanish. American Spanish is to Spaniard Spanish what American English is to British English... That is to say, our Old World counterparts sound more... formal, even haughty... Which is funny, 'cause Spaniards are awesome at cursing people out.

I notice I'm veering off topic. Now I notice I have no topic whatsoever, so I'll look around the room for stuff to talk about- you know, for text padding. Ah! Mario Galaxy. You should play it- it's superb. So is Mario Strikers, for that matter- it's like Smash Bros. with a football in the middle. A real football, I mean- not a pigskin. I find it very hard to classify American Football as, well, football. Most of the time they're HOLDING the ball. They should call it American Handball. Or American Ovoid Brown Ball. Or Calvinball.

Speaking of ovoid balls, I am pretty much resigned to the fact that I am bound by a tenuous but resilient soul-link to people that like to speak up in theaters. Seriously, I can sit way up front in an empty theater, and the loudest person in the vicinity will sit right behind me. I mean, if only they made good jokes, but I've found the louder the person the lesser the wit. I'm sure there's some sort of math formula involved. You can tell when a loudmouth has negative wit- he'll start using the same joke over and over every 3 seconds, no matter what's on screen. He gets bonus points if he thinks nobody heard him so he repeats the joke, but louder.

And speaking of donkey shows, did you know that I need to get permission from the government to partake in flight training, all because I'm not a US Citizen? It's interesting how my 21 years of legal residency amount to a big, fat, ovoid zero. It's also interesting how I have to pay the TSA to run background checks on me. Oh, wait, it's not interesting- it's fucked up. EVERYBODY should get background checks, not just non-citizens. Just like you suspect me, you should suspect John J. Patriot from Austin, Texas.

TSA, what a bunch of PuDS.

But, I digress. Back on topic, I'm finding that drawing on MSPaint is unusually relaxing. Go fig.

Wait, that's not my topic... Ah, screw it, I'm gonna go draw.

Later!

Because you've been itching to see our Wiis

Yes, I know I've neglected you, my children- however, the bottle, a dead end job, or your mother is not the reason. No, daddy doesn't have a mistress, either (the position's open, ladies). No. Daddy has been playing with his Wii. If you kids behave, daddy will let you play with his Wii too.


This is the Wii that almost didn't come (Yes, visibility today is around one mile, you've been warned). I had reserved the Zelda game you see here resting against my Wii back in 2005, when it was announced for the GameCube, and before it was delayed ass amounts of times like a Final Fantasy game. When they started reserving the Wii, GameStop offered to change up GC Zelda for Wii Zelda, so I did. Now, I was expecting to have a certain amount of capital alloted already by the time the Wii came, so imagine my surprise when I realized that money is to be used for tuition and other services colleges provide.

Long story short, I totally spent a lot of the Wii money on lesser stuff like education. I know, what was I thinking? Anyways, as I prepared to do something a bit drastic by trading in my PS2 to finish paying for it, a guardian angel emerged from a house behind Rio Hondo to aid me financially. Yamil ended up helping me pay for it after Andrew very selfishly declined to trade in all his games to get me some store credit. For shame, Andrew, for shame. Anyways, it seems that, out of all of my friends, I was the only one that had actually reserved it (because hindsight is a sultry bitch), so after receiving the gift of the God (that God being Miyamoto) Sunday morning at midnight, I went and accompanied Yamil, Pikkon, and Joel as they made the line in front of Wal Mart to see if they could get it eleven hours later when the store opened.

We were ready for the long haul, having come more prepared than when we took a weekend trip to Vieques during the summer. Fortunately, the store manager came in at 2 am, took a list of all the loyal fans, and said, 'Go home and rest young ones, you'll need it, for in a few hours, you will have your Wiis in your hands, and you will play with it vigorously.'

Their Wiis secured, I followed the gang as we made our way to Joel's to wait out the 11am-opening of the store by playing with my Wii.


Here I am, taking out my Wii.


I'll use this to play with my Wii.



Left-to-right: Me, Gary, Yamil (holding Suki), Pikkon, and Javier... grabbing his junk. I dunno why. And no, I didn't photoshop that, there IS a heavenly light streaming from above, basking me. Apotheosis. Blessed are those that have the Wii, for they shall inherit the earth. Needless to say, a helluva lot of fun was had with Wii Sports, and after everybody else went to sleep, I stayed up and played Zelda, an excellent way to follow up the awesomeness that is Wind Waker, but more on that later. Morning came, and I decided to rest a bit while the guys went ahead and got their Wiis.


Even among Wiis mine is unique.


These are the Fates. They weave our destiny. The quilt they've woven indicates that Zelda'll make me a college drop-out.

Anyways, I'll try to return to the internets this week to pick up on on my blogging.

If, Zelda'll let me.

Soggy is the cereal of my discontent

And... back.

So, what's up with taking 12 plastic cups and making a championship tournament out of STACKING them? Seriously, that must get old by what, the second time? I mean, how many variations can you actually think of that involve stacking 12 cups more than one cup high? There's gotta be a better way to exercise you hand-eye coordination... Masturbation, maybe? How about competitive Archery? That's a pretty fun sport. And uh, it's an actual sport too. Hell, I think masturbation is more of a sport than cup stacking. In fact, I'd go as far as to say that masturbation will make it into the Olympics before cup stacking. Seriously, man... Cup stacking?

Anyways, I've pretty much spent the entire day just dicking around, and playing Age of Mythology with a good friend of mine. We realized how much we suck when the computer players, on Titan, would so incredibly easy out-Age us and smother us to death like you would do an unwanted child.
Yes, we suck that much. Still fun as hell.

Me and my friends have been doing these AOM matches from night til morning every few days, I'm sure we've all lost a couple of years worth of college thanks to it. We've been LANning it, one of my friends tried it online and came back battle-scarred. Apparently, we suck and blow compared to real players. Go fig.

Talking to Lola right now, the one that recommended I start blogging, and here's what she told me to say, word for word:

say i'm the coolest girl alive and should be made a goddess and people have to sacrifice their money and buy me a jeep

And there we go, I've used the quote button instead of actually using "", I feel lazier already. Also, although it has its moments, Mind of Mencia will never be as awesome as Chappelle's Show... That show was pure, pure genius. There's nothing quite as awesome as Charlie Murphy's stories, and of course, the Wayne Brady skit... "Is Wayne Brady gonna have to choke a bitch?"
Brilliant.

Tom DeLonge is on Larry King. Cool. AVA ftw.

Anyways, I realize that I've had this window open ALL day and have just come back to write on in every few hours, as if you couldn't tell by the disconnected, slightly bent (read: psychotic) flow of the post.

Anyways, I'm checking out my friend's blog, a blog he had completely neglected to mention he had (some friend the bastard is), and there I find an excellent post about soggy cereal . Now, what saddened me was Lola's reply, coming to you in Technicolor Quote

I like Quaker Cinnamon Squares and I absolutely hate when my cereal is CRUNCHY! You have to let it soak in milk (preferibly if you have milk with cereal instead of cereal with milk) and let it ablandate.

I feel I must say something about this. Soggy cereal is the most horrible thing that could happen to you in the morning. Waking up to ten other guys in your bed, and you yourself stuck to the wall in dried man-spooge, most of it coming out of various orifices in your body, as you take a look around the room and notice that a lot of stuff is missing from your desk, and has made its way up your anal cavity, does not even come close to as bad a morning as soggy cereal makes. It's like you puked diarrhea in your bowl, and your emesis forms soggy scabs that you are about to re-ingest for some ungodly reason. Had man wanted cereal to be soggy, he would have just sold it already pre-soaked in milk, not dry inside a box sold by weight, not by contents. It's simple, really- there's solid food- like, cereal, there's gaseous food, like Coke, there's liquid food, like... Coke, and there's plasma-state food, like flan. Notice that there's no state of matter called 'Puked diarrhea scabs' state... And for good reason, too.

But hey, if you people like food to have the consistency of something that is forcefully expelled from your body because it rejects on account of it being harmful to it, be my guests...

Sick weirdoes.

Listening to Sheep Ballers

Hey All-

Gravekeeper here, listening to Smashing...Live!, an orchestral rendition of the Smash Bros. themes (well, a second rendition, as the themes are already orchestrated versions of their original). It's Saturday morning, 1 am to be precise, and I'm sitting here at home instead of having gone to two parties... I'm never gonna hear the end of it from the people that invited me, but I just wasn't feeling in a very party-ish mood.

It's been a rainy, sleepy day, and I really didn't feel very social at all, so I kicked back and watched some anime with a friend. Among these was one called Death Note, about a dude that acquires a Death god's little black book... Now he has the power to decide who dies and how. Very cool stuff. Personally, there's quite a few people I wouldn't mind offing at all. Don't know if I'd go through with it, but it's nice to know I can. Besides, how cool would it be if like, Bush died of explosive diarrhea at a UN summit? But I digress.

Going back to the topic at hand, I've always been pretty antisocial... At first, I was just always the odd one out, your traditional outcast, loser and all that drama from high school... Now, I just don't like the environment. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that I disapprove or that there's anything wrong with it- I just feel out of place at pubs and parties and stuff. Don't drink, smoke or even know how to dance well. Probably the only black dude in the world without rhythm. You can imagine how big a hit with the ladies this antisocialness is.

By the way, this Smashing...Live! thing is pretty good, you should give it a listen. Heh, now we got on History Channel something about some dude looking for Noah's Ark on top of a mountain. Good luck, buddy. Reminds me of this inspirational poster, about how all of humanity's scientific accomplishments and discoveries take a back seat to a little book written by some antiquated, sheep-herding (and probably sheep-balling) dudes that thought that all the species of animals in the world lived within walking distance of Noah's house. Wool for thought.

Anyways, I kinda blanked out there, I'll come back a bit later with more to say.

And then Eddy came into your world, and it was good.

Hey all-

Eduardo here, but you can call me Eddy. I was somehow convinced of starting a blog. Call this a social experiment in boredom. Or a blog, whatever. Anyways, I'm just your average Joe, lazier than most, lazier than all, probably. Don't be surprised if I disappear all of a sudden for a few weeks at a time. I'm lurky like that.

'Sup Lola?

Anyways, I'm an avid (though simple-minded) Smash player, and just a general fan of video games, leaning more towards Nintendo and Sega, and a few computer games. I grew up on Sonic the Hedgehog, so that to me is god. I'm somewhat of an artist, just dabbling in my own little characters and stories, of which I may start posting sketches of from time to time whenever I can't think of anything to post. I'll slowly introduce you guys to my characters, I always like talking about them to anybody who's interested.

Last Saturday I went to the most awesomenest concert I've ever been to- a Mägo de Oz concert. They rock SO hard it's unfair to other bands whose concerts I might attend in the future. It was aural consensual rape, and my right ear took the brunt of it, happily. I'm not just one type of music lover, so you'd be hard-pressed to label me as whatever- if I hear a song and like it, then I'll get it- I don't normally even feel inspired to search out more by the artist (unless by recommendation), so I have a mish-mash of music lying around here- from blink-182, to Dvořák, to Queen, to Ian Van Dahl, to Bach, to Muse, to Ricardo Arjona, to Young Jeezy, to Robbie Williams, to Ben E. King, to Angels & Airwaves (blink 3.0?).

Reggaeton can go choke on a peanut and die, though. It just seems like such an unoriginal genre of something (music it ain't)... And I know that to each his own, but to those that do listen to it- what's up with every Reggaeton song using the exact same bassline? It almost seems like they've been rehashing the same song for years and years, changing the lyrics slightly, and making millions of it. Absurd. Even worse, the whole culture around it seems pretty much a poor-man's version of the hip-hop culture and thug life (most of whom are posers), so in essence, the caco culture are posers of posers. It's like a photocopy of a photocopy, just keeps degrading in quality the more you copy it. I mean, even through rampant sampling, Hip-Hop and Rap still have different-sounding music and bassline, something that can't be argued at all for Reggaeton. Just sayin'...

Anyways, going back to my likes, most important of all is my love of aviation. Flying is the most awesome thing you can possibly do, there's nothing quite as awesome. I've been a rabid fan of anything that can slip the surly bonds of Earth since I was VERY young- I remember that one of the triggers was my dad teaching me how to make paper airplanes and then us throwing them all over the house. Good stuff. Though I'm grounded right now for lack of money and bling and moola and all that stuff that pays for instructors and Low-Lead Avgas, I've got 53 hours of flight time and am poised to do my check-ride for the Private License as soon as I strike oil. I'll keep ya posted.

Anyways, that's me in a nutshell. If you wanna get on my good side, just keep a healthy stock of Coke (NOT Pepsi, that thing is so sugary-sweet it should only be marketed to little girls), and Pizza Hut pan pizza nearby (or pretty much any other kind of pizza except Domino's. Go fig.)

Laters!