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.

Weekend Photos.

Idiot.

So last night I was sewing the duvet cover for my down comforters. I got sick of both comforters floating around inside of the huge-ass thing, so I decided to take it in along all the edges, using my handy dandy sewing machine.

Well, I had accomplished sewing about 150,000 inches of the perimeter of this motherfucker and was down to the last 9 inches. The top layer is a smooth polyester-blend resembling silk. Slippery shit. As I was hurrying along, anticipating finally getting the last bit done, I pushed my left hand too close to the rapid-firing needle and my left index finger got sucked into path of stitching.

That's right. I stabbed my finger with my sewing needle, which was probably moving at about 95 miles per hour across the fabric.

I yelped like a wounded animal, tried to pull my finger back and couldn't. Why? Oh, because I had SEWED COMPLETELY THROUGH MY NAIL and my finger was still trapped under the foot of the sewing apparatus.

So I lifted the foot and yanked my finger back out.
Only to discover that there is a piece of needle STICKING OUT OF THE BOTTOM OF MY FINGER.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

That's right- the needle broke off. Went right through my nail and fucking BROKE OFF.

At that point it didn't really hurt yet, but I knew the pain would kick in within about 30 seconds, so I scrambled upstairs to find some pliers to extract the fucker.

In case you were wondering, sewing needles are tapered, and the pointy end sticking out of my finger was a far smaller gauge than the upper piece still wedged inside of it.
So I had to yank it through.

I'll let your imagination fill in the blanks.

So I have a hole in my finger.

And, scene.

Thanks for letting us take your car

up in the mountains, Nicole.

You were with us in spirit.

Dear Weiner Dog Hoodie,

At first I wasn’t sure you’d be so great.

I have to be honest, I was considering removing your little weiner dog patches from the front of you. While I was digging the little silver weiner dog print inside the hood, I suspected the patch-action might be a bit too much.

Thankfully I wore you out once before amputating the little felt dogs. You were a big hit, and I’m sorry I doubted you.

Respect,
Dajah

Altarboys / All Bets On Death / Jackmove

The Jolly Inn
Portland, OR
April 4 2008

All pictures here.

Road Trip!

March 23 -29 2008
Portland OR -> Boise ID -> Grand Canyon AZ -> Las Vegas NV ->San Francisco CA -> Home

All photos here.

Idaho.




Utah.


Fixing Nicole's car with duct tape.


Arizona










Grand Canyon.






Las Vegas.




... sunburned and eating like pigs at the MGM Grand




California




Then we drove all the way home in the dark and didn't take pictures. The end.