You didn't know I've been domesticated??

This is what I made yesterday. It's a giant cupcake. A cupcake the size of a basketball.
It took me like 4 hours. It's kind of epic.
We're going to have a get-together to eat it.
Nessa, it's pretty much for you because you like cupcakes as much as I do.

Love,
Dajah

As if this weren't awesome enough, I feel you should know that the sprinkles are actually teal-colored miniature SUGAR COOKIES.

AND, I also feel you should know that I made the apron I'm wearing. It's a Creature of the Black Lagoon apron with dual-ties.

Marriage proposals may be submitted in application form and forwarded to my inbox, where they will be reviewed and appropriately filed away for future consideration.

Oh my god.

The long video of the actual radio take-over is still processing. Alison should have it done soon.

Meanwhile, we've watched this clip about 40 times today. Dying laughing. Nessa is the greatest when she's not even trying.
Nate and Nessa's ten seconds, as we're getting kicked out of the station:

All Bets On Death

At the Marginal Way Skate Park in Seattle
May 11 2008

All photos here.

Three Shall Be The Number of Alpacas

And the number of alpacas shall be three.

As noted in my previous blog, I was anticipating the third coming of the holy Alpaca into my life. I was unaware it would come so soon.

I was hoping it would be something truly magical, like waking up in the morning to find one tied to my porch with a pile of apples just waiting for me to feed it.

Instead I just got a phone call from Timm. Yeah, I hate him, but he IS the original Paltaculator. I had to tell him about the alpaca sightings, and he indicated that his timing in placing that call was obviously of divine nature, to complete the Trifecta of the Alpaculas.

I'm holding fast for a more auspicious coming of the alpaca into my life soon, but if it doesn't, I am prepared to accept this phone call as The Third Sign. If people see Jesus in their fucking toast and call it a miracle, I think it's reasonable for me to accept a phone call as a sign from the Alpaca Miracle Sighting Network as well.

Alpacas are all that matter. World hunger? No. War in Iraq? Sorry, no. Genocide in Darfur? Booooooooooooooooooooooooring.
Thousands of alpacas in my life?
ALL THAT MATTERS.

Please direct your attention to exhibit A (for Alpacas and Allthatmatters):










The defense rests.

Alpaca Alpaca Alpaca Alpaaaaaaaaaaaaca

I've had an awesome two days. Came to Seattle last night, went to Margaret Cho with Ava, got smashed, woke up this morning and had breakfast, then went to the Thrasher Skate Rock show at the Marginal Way Skatepark, because I wanted to see All Bets on Death.
Yes, that was a run-on sentence, I don't care, I'm busy.

Anyway, the BEST thing was when we left breakfast and walked through the farmer's market. There were ALPACAS!!!



Unfortunately they were not flying alpacas, but nevertheless they were the best thing in the entire world. I want a million alpacas. They're like sheep-horse-giraffes. I want to feed them apples and pet them on the head.

I'll have pictures later. Right now I'm at Ava's trying to re-load music onto my iPod for the drive home.

I just wanted to let you know about the Alpacas, though.

And actually, when Nate and I were on the way back from the Bonneville Dam, he drove behind an ALPACA TRUCK and I kind of freaked out. Good things come in threes so I'm waiting for the final Alpaca sighting.

Al. Paca.

Cico de Mayo Pictures

Alicia & baby, cute x 1,000,000



The Jamie/Dajah recliner-flip maneuver.



This turned out even though he had the flash backwards.



Look, I have a remote flash!



KRS(2) gets the upper hand.




MORE.

Did you chain a dinosaur outside my neighbor’s place?

This is the best out-of-the-blue question I've been asked, possibly ever.
Incidentally, the answer is no, but it could have been yes.

The parrotlet is currently sitting on my FOOT and just plucked the tiniest little hair out of my leg. I just shaved, there's nothing there, and yet this animal was able to tweeze something out. I yelped, impulsively yanked my foot back and sent the bird flying. In the time it took to write this, he's already back on my foot.

Today I had to take my sister's car to school. Why? My keys were missing. Surprise.
I was driving home an hour ago, reached over into the passenger seat to dig through my backpack and just happened to see them sitting on the seat. I swear they weren't there earlier. I believe there is a portal in my house which removes random important objects, holds them in limbo until I'm done looking for them, then puts them somewhere I already looked.

I fell asleep at school today, only once, but it could have been at least three times had I not shaken myself. In case you were wondering, I had four shots of espresso today. They did nothing. I'm still sitting here yawning. PS- I have narcolepsy. I'm going to the sleep clinic at OHSU in a month and getting put on something to help me stay awake. I fell asleep on the fucking picnic table at Zach's hotdog joint even though I was SURROUNDED by like 15 people, on Sunday. This is getting O.O.C.

The bird is nibbling my toes, making noises that sound eerily like the evil flying beasts that the nazgul ride on in the lord of the rings trilogy.
If you're wondering what that sounds like, it sounds like:
Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeech!!
Like a fuckin falcon posessed or something. How does a sound so scary come out of something so tiny and cute?
Mysteries abound.

Listening to the AB's One Match track all day has me in the mood to go smash shit and light it on fire. I'm gonna do homework for a while, then I think I might need to go do something. Like smash shit and then light it on fire. Fuck the po-lice. I'm out.

Seriously??

I forgot to update last weekend when I totally upped the ante of Dajah is a Fucking Retard with the stunt I pulled Friday night.

On my way back from Kristy's house, I stopped at a gas station. The one on 33rd and Broadway. Since I had approximately $2000 in digital still and video camera equipment in my bag on the front seat, as well as my purse, I opted to lock the doors as I ran in to grab a soda.

For the record, I don't drink soda. Except with booze. I had a bottle of Maker's in my car, so I was trying to preempt the imminent need for chaser.

I get out of my car while dude is pumping my gas (for those of you not in Oregon, apparently we're not legally competent enough to pump our own gas so gas stations pay people to do it for us). I stick my cell phone in my pocket. Grab my keys, get out of the car and lock my doors.

Just kidding, I didn't grab my keys. They were still in my ignition.

So, I'm at the fucking PUMP with my keys locked in my car.
With pretty much every expensive thing I own, short of my laptop, sitting on my passenger seat. Including my cigarettes and booze, which I could really have used at that point.

Long story short, Alison came and rescued me. Ransacked my house looking for my spare key, which was a fruitless endeavor. Went back to my car and noticed a warranty sticker on my window for road side assistance. Called it, and Kia dispached and paid for a lockout service to come liberate me from my embarassingly retarded predicament.

Since the time it took for me to discover this briiliant solution had pretty much wrecked my evening, I just left with Alison. I don't remember what we did, but it definitely involved doing whatever the fuck she wanted since she literally dragged her ass out of bed in her pajamas to come rescue my idiot ass.

Who locks their keys in their car at a busy gas station on a Friday night AT THE PUMP?

You've got three guesses and the first two don't count.

100 MPH Through Downtown PDX

Last night was stupid and boring.

UNTIL
At approximately 3 AM, Alison and I were leaving the Sandy Hut at last call. Incidentally, I hate the fucking Sandy Hut- their good juke box only just begins to compensate for their otherwise obnoxious douchebag clientele, and I had originally outright refused to go there. Luckily, Alison wouldn't take no for an answer and since she was driving, I rolled with.

We were only there for about 30 minutes, but we endead up with this table of guys in some biker club. Whatever, I could give a fuck about your motorcycle credentials. Anyway, we quickly got too smashed to drive, so one of the guys gave us a ride home. On the way, another friend of theirs was flanking us on his bike. And there's me, wasted, leaning out the window yelling "I WANT TO GO FOR A RIDE!!!!!"

We get to the house, I stumble out of the car and reiterate my desire to ride bitch on his motorcycle.
Him: "Do you have a helmet?"
Me: "Um..."
Alison: "I have my old roller derby helmet!"
Me: "Let's go."

So here I am, in a denim mini skirt, platform knee-high boots and Alisons' leather jacket with roller derby helmet, climbing on the back of this bike with some guy I just met. Whiskey consumption makes for great decision-making skills, obviously. But I'm thinking, oh he'll just cruise me around the block, whoopdeefuckindoo.

Well, he rode down Broadway and takes a right on Williams.
Takes a left off Williams onto fucking I-5 North. Accelerates.
Takes the next right onto 405-South, up over the Fremont/405 Bridge.

Some of you live in PDX so you know how cool this was. Some of you don't, so let me help you get hip. From here on out, I'm including pictures so you understand how fucking awesome the city of Portland can be.

The 405/Fremont Bridge is not only the longest bridge in Portland, it's the second-longest tied-arch bridge in the WORLD. It's enormous. Its arches are stunning and you can see them from all over the city. It curves around from the northeast side of the city, over the Willamette River, then splits three ways once it hits the west side- the leftmost lane carrying you in a loop around downtown and eventually running back into I-5. It gives arguably one of the best views of the city as you come over it, especially at night.



The point is, this bridge is massive and beautiful and every time I drive over it, it's hard not to careen off the side of it while rubbernecking at the rest of the city falling behind and below.

So, we hop onto 405 South, and accelerate. Fast. How fast? Shit, I don't know. Fucking fast. We hit the first curve circumventing downtown, and I reach up to tighten Alison's helmet. Not realizing that the helmet was the only thing holding my broke-ass glasses on my face, I touched them and the wind ripped them off and they flew behind me and ate asphalt at approximately 90+ miles per hour.
Whoops.
So, now I'm blind.

We fly around the rest of 405 and hit I-5 again, and I'm thinking oh, we're getting back on I-5 North to head back to Broadway.
He takes I-5 South.
We continue to fly down the interstate approaching and exceeding speeds of 100 miles per hour. After blowing by the first available exit and knowing that the next one was several miles down, I started wondering if maybe this was such a good idea. Really, this guy could be a total psycho spiriting me away to his underground lair where I will never be seen or heard from again. What do I have with me? Cell phone? No. I have a wallet and a knife. Oh, and some chapstick. That'll come in handy.

Anyway, my minor freak-out was unnecessary because we took the next exit at Terwilliger Blvd. Apparently he just missed the prior one off the interstate, which is understandable since it's hard to read exit signs when the world is flying past you at cyclone-speed.

On the way back, we crossed the Marquam Bridge (I-5 over the Willamette):

Which is not only the busiest bridge in the entire state- it is also gives the best view of downtown PDX. Below is a photo taken from the bridge. Now imagine how stunning it is at night with all the downtown lights blurring on the river. If you've never been to Portland, you'll never know how much you can fall the fuck in love with this city just going over one of these bridges at night.



Anyway.
I eventually made it back to Alison's house. Still with a buzz on, freezing in my skirt and fucking BLIND.

Good time? Check.

Then I went to Eyes on Broadway, and they GAVE me a new pair of glasses.

In case you were wondering about my life, it's pretty much awesome.