Being brought up Mormon left me naive about important things like the difference between an americano and a latte. Or proper beer bong technique. But my upbringing on the fringes of American religion did teach me some valuable lessons.

For example; if the charismatic, bearded leader of your congregation on an isolated ranch in {fill in the name of a western state here} claims that he is the resurrected Jesus. Or even if he claims to get text messages from Jesus. There's a good chance he's trying to have sex with your under-age daughter.

But don't take my word for it. It happens all the time. Seriously. All the time. So much.

Kelly over there to the Mocha Momma blog
tagged me with a meme.

Normally, I'm not a big fan of meme tagging but I guess I'm just not in the mood to be anti-social. Maybe I'm just feeling the love from the blogosphere and I wanna give a little back. Get I get an amen?

Try as I might I couldn't get Dave Fletcher to admit to randomly deleting Chris Buttars' email. Though, towards the end of the interview, after finally lulling him with my witty repartee, he did admit to once having been a bigot.

Listen to The Couchcast

Every morning I get an email from Google with a daily agenda from my online personal calendar.

From: Google Calendar

So, this morning was awesome. I was a dad-machine. The little girls were out of bed, dressed, fed and sent towards the bus stop, completed homework in hand... err... backpack.

I was out the door on time. ON. TIME. Oh, and I was shaved, showered and managed to match my socks to my underwear. I had kicked the morning's ass. Solo, bitches.

I even remembered that I needed to swap cars with my sister-in-law so she could help out and cover the carpool with our van. This I remembered until I replaced that remembering with the rememory that I needed to take The Bitch to the sitter's. Then, somehow the remembering about the van left my brain. I still drove the van. It's just that I drove it all the way to work.

I've been thinking about putting together a podcast for a while. I have a ton of ideas, probably too many, and I still need to settle on an exact format. While I'm trying to figure all that out, I'm trying to participate in as many other projects as I can to get the hang of the whole process.

I've been given a generous offer to join Robert Merrill, Thom Allen and Matt Reinbold on The Couchcast this Monday to interview Dave Fletcher, CTO for the State of Utah. I can only assume I've been included as comic relief.

Hopefully the joke isn't on me. Be sure to tune in and find out.

"I remember when I found out Donny and Marie were brother and sister
and not husband and wife. I was shocked. Like finding out Santa Claus
wasn't real."

Donna and our two oldest girls are taking a road trip to Disneyland this week. Megan's dance company will be shaking their booties at the Magic Kingdom as part of their mission to spread their message of Miley Cyrus-inspired tween hoochiness around the world.

It should be a fun weekend of overpriced food, long lines and miles of endless walking between rides for them.

But you want to know the best part about their trip? Since they are taking my mother along, my house will actually be The Happiest Place on Earth.

Marie is almost nine. Her friend, Kelly, is also nine. Marie and Kelly claim to have counted over a thousand other things they have in common, in addition to being nine. They are totally BFF.

On Saturday, the friendship was tested. As was my patience. And my Zoloft. Let me, if I may, give away the ending to this story. All three passed the test but it was sketchy there for a bit.

The morning was spent, as a lot of Saturday mornings are spent, with Marie and Kelly on the phone. There's always a lot of whispering and giggling and that sort of thing but they seemed to be scheming something in particular this time. Somewhere around ten o'clock, Marie came bouncing down the stairs asking where her shoes were.