dextra: (Cherry Hammer)
Text convo with [livejournal.com profile] cielamara.

Dextra: Beat em over the head with a Louisville Slugger and drink heavily. That's my motto.

Nikki: I want to see that in Latin on someone's coat of arms.

Dextra: God damn it. You know if you say these things to me I have to draw them.

Nikki: Well, you needed motivation to draw tonight, didn't you? :P

Dextra: Damn it. I was gonna piss around and play Arkham City.

Nikki: I think you should put some swans on there. Like oh, how dainty and pretty and then BOOM! HEADSHOT with a wing. Swans will beat some ass.
....
I ruin everything, it's my specialty.

Dextra: SHUT UUUUUPPPPP

Nikki: Trollolololol :D:D:D

Dextra: I NAME YOU BEYOTCH, RUINER OF LAZYTIEMS

Nikki: And maybe a four-leaf clover because it's on the Davis coat of arms and also to say BISH YOU LUCKY I'M TOO DRUNK TO REALLY STOMP YO ASS. Building a theme here.
Though if I were desigining a coat of arms for myself it would feature a goose and its mottow would be FUCK YOU, I'M A GOOSE, GEESE DON'T CARE. But in Latin.

Dextra: I did just get a coat of atms* in the mail. It's all Dr Who related. Odd coincidence.

Nikki: Clearly you need to design this coat of arms.

Dextra: Biiiiiitch.

Nikki: :D It's so cute that you're haing such a hard time spelling "mistress of all that is awesome."

Dextra: No, I think I know how to spell cuntbag. :p I'm also proud of my phone for having cuntbag in its dictionary.

Nikki: LMAO did you put it there?

Dextra: ...maybe.

Ok, so to recap, my phone is made up of equal parts LOL, OMG and WTF.

LOL - It's been known to change *hugs* to *jihad*

OMG - Its internal dictionary contains words like "cuntbag", "twatwaffle" and "Benedict Cumberbatch". There's actually a shortcut for the last one.

*WTF - Sometimes, things like "arms" come out as "atms". Now I'm wondering what the fuck a coat made of atms looks like. o_O
dextra: (Infinite Mockery)
My Sunday is the first day of the work week for me. So while the rest of the world gets a day off, I...don't. But, I have a totally clear Friday, so I'll deal. Here's how mine goes:

7:30 am - First alarm on my phone goes off. I tap the snooze.
8:00 am - Second alarm goes off. I tap the snooze yet again.
8:15 am - Third alarm goes off (this is actually the snooze from the first alarm reactivating). I turn it off.
8:30 am - Fourth alarm (second snooze) goes off. I unplug phone from the charger, turn off alarm, prepare to swing feet off of bed and sit up.
9:52 am - Phone screams with a text message and nearly makes me wet myself. My text alert sound is the Wilhelm Scream.
10:03 am - Sit bleary-eyed in front of computer with coffee and a Clif bar while taking vitamins and Claritin and reading email and Facebook. Multitasking at its finest.
More thrilling heroics under here. )
dextra: (Abbey Road Treadmill)
As I announced on Facebook yesterday, I am in possession of wheels once again. I'm pretty happy about it. It's a 1997 Mecury Sable. It's older, but it's in great shape. Even the engine is spanky clean. It runs great, and the AC is icy cold. And it's nice and spacious on the inside, which is good for me, because I tend to get a little car claustrophobic sometimes.

Pictures and other junk under here. )

And finally...I made an ass out of myself for lulz. And Fia helped.

dextra: (Infinite Mockery)
I meant to do a post on this a while back. I think I only hesitated becuase a) I have a hard time talking about this without laughing so hard I cry and b) I didn't think anyone would believe me. But now, I have screenshot evidence a la Facebook:



Now, most of us live outside of the cultural vacuum that is Kentucky (apologies to those of you that are, but you know what I'm talking about). And to the rest of the world, the word "cornhole" makes you think of two things.

Photobucket

Or

Photobucket

I'm right there with you on that one. However, in the state of Kentucky, or more specifically, the Eastern half, cornholing is a game of skill. And I can hear at least one of you saying "But Dex, cornholing does require skill! *snicker*" Yes, I'm well aware of the joke potential here. Bear with me a moment.

I first heard about this mysterious game a couple of years ago while driving around my hometown with my mother in the car. I saw a hand-painted sign advertising a cornhole tournament. Yes, a tournament. I'm cracking up and my mother asks why. I point at the sign, since I was laughing so hard that verbal communication was now lost to me.

This is when my mother proudly tells me, with a straight face, "Well, you happen to be looking at the Cornhole Champion of Montgomery County!"

Photobucket

Once I recovered from my head explosion, my mother explained to me that Cornhole is a game of skill involving small cloth bags filled with dried corn and planks of wood with holes in them. That's about as far as I got. I can only assume that this is some form of redneck skeeball. A quick skim of Google search results seem to imply that this is the case.

But I still just about lose my mind whenever I think of my mother proudly announcing her status as a champion cornholer.
dextra: (Default)
This is a test. I just want to see what this looks like. Pay no attention to the chick behind the curtain.
dextra: (Default)
I just got a text from Gracie saying that she sent a stoned text message to someone with my old number talking about tits and Xanax. I LOL'D. :p

Also! I went to the meeting about the insurance sales job this morning and it looks promising so far. I got a call this afternoon requesting a second interview, so I get to go to Louisville (ugh) on Monday for that.

Tomorrow is the big comic convention, the first this sleepy little burg has ever seen. So I'm helping with that tonight and tomorrow. Sara, Justin and I just took a break for food, then we're going back down to pack up some more shit to take to the convention center in the morning.

Also, I punched a fifty year old man. To be fair, he deserved it.

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