..and still.
Happy Anniversary and Thank You for making this quote-a-day calendar true.
I love you.
Oct 142009
Nov 022007
Chris stands in front of the fridge with the door wide open, desperately searching for a bottle of his One True Love: beer. Unable to find the desired object, he loudly proclaims:
“There is never any beer in this fridge, because someone drinks it too fast!”
Leo responds, completely deadpan with perfect timing:
“Ah, that would be you.”
Apr 112007
Did you know they filmed Footloose here? Yep it’s true. Right in the heart of Utah County. Claim to fame, people. It doesn’t get better.Oct 052006
One day last week after Leo was done with his morning kindergarten session his best friend invited him over to play. I happily drove him to his friends house, and then drunk on the prospect of getting some shopping done with only one child in tow, I headed off to the store. Half way there I realized that I had forgotten to bring my purse because I was obviously a little too drunk. I turned around and went back home to get it, and that’s when my day of one child drunken shopping took a turn for the worse.
As I pulled into my driveway, I could see the backs of two people standing at the front door ringing the doorbell over and over. Because of angles and blindspots and drunkenness I was unable to identify these two figures, because believe you me had I identified these two people I would have pulled right out of my driveway and speed away, purse and shopping be damned! Instead I got out of the car and walked around to the front door, with the intention of telling who ever it was to go away because I had shopping to do with only one child and it couldn’t wait.
That’s when I was greeted by two pimply faced representatives for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
They immediately began to interrogate me.
Are you LDS?
Technically.
Do you go to church?
No. (I’m pretty sure they knew that answer)
Why not?
I don’t want to.
Do you have a testimony of the Gospel?
No.
But do you believe Joseph Smith was a true prophet of God?
No.
Oh, okay. We’d like to come back later and talk to your whole family about this, can we do that?
No.
If we give you a scripture to read would you promise to read it?
No.
They handed me a card with a picture of Jesus on one side and a scripture written on the other. I took the card and resisted the urge to tell them to fuck off!!, because, guess what assholes?, I’ve read that scripture at least 20 times, and it’s bullshit! Really, my urge to tell them off!!, it wasn’t that much of an urge because my belief in karma and humanity won’t really allow me to tell them off. That, and the fact that I’m a wuss.
For those of you who are blissfully unaware, there is a song with a similar title to that of my post used to indoctrinate young Mormon children from the time they begin to speak. I could sing it for you now, by heart, along with many other songs with themes ranging from the historical accuracy of the Book of Mormon to how the pioneer children had the most AWESOME time in the world walking from Missouri to Salt Lake City. And don’t even get me started on how Saturday is the most special day cuz it’s THE DAY WE GET READY FOR SUNDAY! Yes, it’s true people. The Mormons are trying to teach young children that their ENTIRE weekend should be devoted to church. What a fucking rip off.
I guess my main point here is I felt sorry for those kids, those fresh and pimply little missionaries, because I knew where they were coming from. It’s not really their fault, they just probably grew up singing the songs, you know?My brother served a 2 year full-time mission, and my nephew is currently serving his 2 years in a distant foreign country so karmicly speaking I couldn’t be mean to those kids because they are my brother and my nephew. And really I don’t think I need to be contributing to more negativity in the world. That and I’m a total wuss.
But then Chirs did this to their little card, and I have to admit it made me feel just a little bit better about the spoilage of my day, my inability to tell people off, about being raised Mormon, and just about life in general.
May 022006
“Mom, Hi! Dad is being a shithead.”
-my daughter Sunny (who is almost 
after a trip to the park with her father.
Nov 082005
[10:12] Chris: wtf is nubbin!
[10:12] Chris: i dONT GET IT DOOCE!
[10:12] Chris: you evil hearted BITCH!
[10:12] Chris: hahhaah tell me now!
[10:13] danica: i think nubbin is random conversations and things
[10:13] danica: and Sunny just read back to me everything you typed
[10:14] danica: up to and incluing ” you evil hearted BITCH!”
[10:14] Chris: i love her
[10:14] danica: yes
[10:14] danica: i’m going to shower now
[10:14] danica: please don’t type anything while i’m gone
[10:14] Chris: roger
[10:14] danica: i want our daughter to stay as innocent as possible
[10:14] danica: ok?
[10:14] Chris: good luck with that 
[10:14] Chris: btw, you have to paste that to elliott
[10:15] danica: hahahaha, yeah and the whole internet too
Of all the things in the world that I dread, and there are a lot of things that I dread, really, A LOT, one that I really dread is the call from the neighborhood kids mom. You know the call I’m talking about. The one where the mom has a concern regarding their child and something that happened to them at your house. The one where your parenting/supervisory skills are seriously being called into question. The call where you are made to feel like a TOTAL AND COMPLETE IDIOT, over something that really wasn’t your fault, only kind of your fault.
It started out innocently enough, some time last week all the neighborhood kids were over, per usual, and one of those charming children unloaded three huge logs of shit in the kids toilet and then unrolled an entire roll of toilet paper on top of it. I know you people can imagine how truly and utterly, and because I’m on a roll here people, really disgusting this was. This shit/toilet paper combo created an unflushable bomb, a kid-made beaver dam, or some other indestructible third thing, that wasn’t going anywhere without a fight.
I think this mass of paper and feces sat there for a few days before I noticed it, because I don’t use the kids bathroom very often and of course no one bothered to mention it to me. Needless to say it was RANK by the time I stumbled across it. I attempted to flush it several times with no success and then I did the only thing I can in this type of situation, I waited for Chris to get home and take care of it for me. He plunged it without complaint and only almost vomited, then he made an attempt to get to the bottom(pun totally intended) of who had made this mess. Because people, is it really necessary to use an whole roll of toilet paper to wipe your ass? I believe the child who created the bomb should have and, in fact, DID know better. Chris interrogated all the children that were present in the house at that time, but none of them would admit to doing it or knowing who did it. And with the plunging experience fresh in his mind, Chris told our kids and all the kids over here that they couldn’t play at our house for a week, because of the inappropriate use of toilet paper.
In hind sight, it was probably a knee jerk reaction, that taken out of context seems infantile and foolish. I mean really, are we those kinds of parents, the kind that ban sweet innocent children from our house over something as silly as a clogged toilet? Are we that uptight? No we are nice people, but you should have seen it, really, because it was sick and gross, and worst of all, looked INTENTIONAL! We did the only thing we could think of, we freaked out. And when I got THE call, I was immediately sorry.
Today the girl down the street came over to play, and I let her right in, having seriously forgotten all about the toilet incident and subsequent friend ban, because it happened three days ago and that is really like 2.5 days past the statute of limitations my memory has on this kind of thing. She had been here about 10 minutes when the phone rang. It was her mother. The conversation went something like this:
“Is it ok for my daughter to be playing over there right now?”
“Yes, of course.” (with genuine surprise, really)
“Because she told me she wasn’t allowed to play over there this week”
“Really?” (I almost choke on the phone that has fallen into my gaping mouth)
“Yes. Something about a clogged toilet?”
“Oh, I don’t know anything about it, maybe Chris said that.” (I start playing stupid and blaming the husband, out of sheer horror because the way she said ‘clogged toilet‘ made me feel like I was about 4 years old)
“Well, I just wanted to make sure she was okay playing over there today.”
“Yes, she is fine. I’ll have to talk to Chris about this toilet thing. Thanks.” (because of course I never communicate with my husband so I’m totally in the dark, and thank you for clueing me in, really. And CAN I DIE NOW, PLEASE.)
I guess my point to this whole story is really pretty simple: When you allow every kid in the neighborhood to play at your house, you pretty much have to expect to get some shit clogged in your toilet, and some shit on the telephone too.
Sep 222005
This is a shout out to my favorite rapper Jay-Z! I hope all the wind, traffic, and weirdos aren’t getting the best of you. Also, a quick reminder that crabs are bad. They are painful and hard to get rid of. Seriously. Don’t forget all your fans here in the City of Salts love you and are anxiously awaiting your triumphant return. Crabs. Are. Bad.
Respect!
