Nick LeMasters & The Christmas Mix-Up

I love this picture. I’m thinking of referring to them as the “Silver Foxes,” to keep their identity a secret. Too late. They are already famous in the blogging universe. I mean, it truly brought a smile to my face when my friend once greeted my dad with, “Hi. I know you from Dayna’s blog.” Oh! The joy I felt in that moment. Like I was JK Rowling.

I think this blog has brought about many elements of my personality…typically my anti-social tendencies…but it has also identified me as a windtalker. When I say windtalker, I of course mean I am one of the few people on this planet that understands my mom. Remember this? Well, it happens on a regular basis.

You would think that after 33 years of marriage my dad would also have this innate ability, sadly he does not. Without calling them out, I would say one is given to flights of whimsy, the other only deals in absolute facts (you can draw your own conclusions). So when there are misunderstandings, it provides absolute entertainment…for me (and hopefully you).

This particular misunderstanding took place between 2:30pm and 3:00pm on Christmas Day. Yes. I was in the backseat of their car…laughing. I don’t know if I was uncomfortable or entertained. We all know I have an issue with laughing in uncomfortable situations.

Location: LeMasters’ Garage
Time: 2:30pm
Scene: The backseat of the car is loaded with three laundry baskets of gifts, dad is in the car (rushing my mom and myself) with the window down, mom is putting on boots, I am holding a bag full of presents chatting with her.

Mom: Do you know where my glasses are?
Me: No idea.
Dad: I threw them in a basket.
Me: Dad says he threw them in a basket.
Mom: Perfect! I’ll be able to see things at Ryan and Emily’s.

Location: LeMasters’ Car
Time: 2:45pm
Scene: Dad and Mom in the front seat, I’m in the back seat, my mom needs her glasses.

Mom: Dayna, can you find my glasses?
Me: Sure. Dad, what basket did you put them in?
Dad: Um. I didn’t put them in these baskets. I put them in the fruit basket on the kitchen counter.
Me: Are you being serious right now?
Mom: Are you freaking kidding me?
Me: Why would you tell me you put them in a basket, when there were three laundry baskets being brought with us?
Dad: I didn’t think about these baskets. I’m not even sure I said, “I threw them in a basket. I think I said I put them in the kitchen basket.”
Me: OH! Don’t lie. You’re changing your story because you know mom is pissed.
Mom: I can’t believe this. You always do this! You never think these things through. Now I won’t be able to see anything tonight. Why would you say that?
Dad: If I said...
Me: Wooh. Wooh. Wooh. Nope. What do you mean if? You said it!
Dad: You can borrow my glasses.
Mom: Are you freaking kidding me? I wanted my own! Share? Please.
Dad: Fine. I’ll stop at Walgreens and get you a pair.
Mom: Oh. That sounds great! I don’t want some gross, ugly pair of Walgreen glasses.
Dad: DAYNA! Stop laughing. I don’t know how, but this is somehow your fault.
Me: My fault? All I did was ask the location of the glasses. You are the one that told us the wrong location. Don’t blame me for your bad communication skills, sir.

The good news? A pair of glasses was located upon looking through the ten bags my mom keeps in her backseat. Yes. You read that correctly. Ten.

Some Things Never Change...Visits to Santa

For years my mom expected us to get our picture taken with Santa. Like my brother was in his twenties when we finally put a stop to it. Like we probably ruined her Christmas the year we put our foot down and said no more.

Now it’s time for a new generation to get their picture with Santa. What I’ve come to realize when looking at past and present pictures is there are only two poses. There is the “What the hell am I doing on this stranger’s lap” pose and there is the “Are we done yet” pose.

Below are three generations of LeMasters’ Santa pictures. There is a mix of hate and indifference in the photos below. I feel like it represents my family's feelings about strange, old men, who talk to us.

No letters were mailed out, because it was unanimously felt that I share entirely too much information throughout the year. I guess what I’m saying is, all is good on the Colorado front. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

A special thanks to Molly & Colleen LeMasters, who encouraged a blog based on the first photo below.

1959: Nick LeMasters (Age 1), wondering "what the hell Joan LeMasters was thinking putting him on a stranger's lap." Tommy LeMasters is obviously trying to put distance between himself and the crier...Santa makes naughty and nice decisions based on association.


1961: Robyn LeMasters (Age 3), not really interested in the whole picture/Santa ordeal. The ringlets rock, though! I do think it's pretty obvious that she doesn't want the strange, old man touching her shoulder.


1965: Nick LeMasters (Age 7), finally accepting that this guy might actually be magical. Look at his face, he's totally captivated. I'm sure he's thinking, "I'll sit on this stranger for a minute if it means I get a new gold, Stingray bike, with a checker flag banana seat."


1983: Ryan LeMasters (Age 1), not really sure what's happening, but being the appeasing young-man that would turn into the pleasing man, he smiles for the camera...feeling indifferent about the whole situation. I would say that he does look like he's trying to inch his way off Santa's lap.


1985: Nathan LeMasters (Age 1), hating every second of this moment. Tiny, however, sees a new bone in her future.


1988: Dayna LeMasters (Age 1), so begins my phobia of strange, old men who feel the need to touch or talk to me.


2006: Annie LeMasters (Age 1), could really care less about the situation, completely indifferent.


2009: Zach LeMasters (Age 1), I think we can all tell by the red face, and glazed eyes, that somebody was crying about the prospect of sitting on a stranger's lap.


2011: Nick LeMasters (Age 1), obviously trying to figure out the nearest escape route.

Why I Can Never Marry Tim Tebow

Last night as I helped my mom wrap presents for her “work friends,” I stumbled across this picture on Facebook.

Yes. That’s right. That’s my brother Ryan, super excited about the prospect of wearing Tim Tebow’s face on his chest.

Yes. That’s right. Ryan LeMasters is the reason I can never marry Tim Tebow. This is what I chatted about with my parents as we wrapped, curled, and stuffed gifts last night.

Me: See. This is just sad. He’s obsessed. And he only likes him because he can ramble off scriptures at will. Now I can never marry him. It would just be awkward. Ryan would call him all the time.

Dad: You are so right! He would call him up and say things like, “Tiiiim! Tebow! Timmy Boy! Mr. T!

Me: (laughter) You are so right! It’s sad. He’s ruined my chances. And you know I would bring him over and this would be the first thing out of Ryan’s mouth, “We’ve actually met before. Remember when we took a picture together at DIA?”



Mom: They did not! Ryan did that? He has a picture with this guy?

Me: You haven’t seen it?!? Let me show you. I think they have their arms around each other’s waists.

Mom: Oh! He’s cute. I haven’t seen him before. He would look cute with our family.

Me: Okay. This just got creepy.

Obviously this is the only reason we would never make it as a couple. The fact that I'm not really into football and would probably tell him to calm himself down a bit, is nothing to be concerned about.

Starbucks & The Incognito LeMasters

I think it’s pretty clear that my family and myself tend to run on the anti-social side. People annoy us. We don’t really like socializing. We just don’t really like people. This personality trait shined bright and clear a few weeks ago, while on a visit to Starbucks.

A few weeks back, I wrangled my parents into helping set up my classroom. We would spend five hours cleaning, boxing, hanging, and drilling. Before setting out on our own version of “Extreme Makeover: Classroom Edition,” we stopped at our local Starbucks. This is a necessity whenever we all set out for an adventure. I mean…my dad doesn’t even ask anymore…he just drives straight to Starbucks.

When we walked in, it was clear we would be in for a bit of a wait. There were ten people in front of us. I immediately noticed they were doing the “name game thing.” You know what I’m talking about. When they say, “Can I get a name for the cup?” I HATE THIS!

Why, you are asking yourself? One, they never spell my name right and I don’t want to appear crazy and high maintenance by saying, “It’s Dayna. Dayna with a Y.” Two, I just don’t like giving out my name and then it’s on the cup and then people see it and then I just think, “Ugh. What if some weirdo starts talking to me and then knows my name…”

Anyway. My mom also hates the name thing. She typically says, “Oh. Yeah. I don’t do that.” That day, however, she was in rare spirits. I tried to avoid the whole situation by having my dad order, but he failed me. He didn’t move to the front of the line when our time came. I think he was distracted by the case of blueberry muffins. And so, this is what happened that fateful day in Starbucks. The Starbucks I have to go to on a regular basis, because it’s the only one on my way to work…

Me: Grande, non-fat, chai.
Baristo: Can I get your name for the cup?
Me: Dayna. Dayna with a Y. I know that sounds so high maintenance.
Baristo: That’s okay. No problem.

Mom: Venti, non-fat, six pump, chai, ½ pump peppermint, and no foam.
Baristo: Got it. Can I get your name for the cup?
Mom: Tamika.
Me: STOP IT!
Dad: Babe! You can’t do that. Stop it.
Mom: What? He just said a name for the cup.
Baristo: I like it. If she wants to be Tamika today, she can be Tamika.
Mom: See? You should have said Sophia Grace.
Me: This is the worst.

Yes. He did in fact write Tamika on the cup.

Obviously my mom was in good form that day. We left there with our chais in hand and set off for my new place of work. What I wasn’t expecting was that other teachers would be there. So yes, my parents ended up meeting quite a few of my co-workers. And yes. When my mom met one of the Spanish teachers, she said, “Hi. I’m Robyn. I teach art here.” It was so awkward.

Oh. Yes. That teacher tells everyone that we are good friends, because he knows my mother. Yes. When I stop in to Starbucks on my way to work, the baristo does in fact ask me how my mom is.

And so we now know that no good can come from the people at Starbucks asking for my name when I stop in for a chai.

iPods...A Window Into Our Souls

A few weeks ago I was driving to work and listening to the radio. It’s been a while since I’ve had an opportunity to listen to morning radio. Oh, the joys of commuting to work at 6am…Not complaining. I love my job.

Anyway. The topic for the morning was iPods. iPods and how we all have songs on our iPods that we wish we didn’t. I am guilty of this. I was also guilty of having every embarrassing song they listed on my iPod…we’ll get to this later.

I’ve often thought to myself, as I rocked out to Miley Cyrus’ Party in the USA, “Lord! Please don’t let anything terrible happen to me while I’m listening to this.” I can just imagine myself getting in a car accident or falling off the treadmill and knocking myself unconscious. I assume the person who finds me will be more concerned with the fact that I’m listening to The Biebs or Disney or ABBA, rather than the unconscious me.

And why is it, that the songs I am embarrassed of, are the ones that I can’t help but sing at the top of my lungs? In the shower. At home. And yes, in the car. They are the songs that I listen to at the gym and imagine myself singing on stage. Of course the setting changes with every song. When I listen to Mamma Mia, I am the star of a Broadway show. When I listen to The Biebs, I have amazing dance moves. When I listen Glee, I’m hosting the Oscars…no idea why…I assume it’s because I’m entertaining celebrities with song and dance.

And so. It came as no surprise that morning when they began to list their embarrassing songs and I had each and every one, plus more. So here. Here it is. My confession to the world. The top ten songs/music on my iPod that I’m ashamed of.

10. The Twilight Soundtrack
9. Various Glee Soundtracks (Yes. This means more than one)
8. Disney’s Greatest, Volume 2
7. Disney’s Greatest, Volume 1
6. Dolly Parton, 9 to 5
5. A Walk to Remember Soundtrack
4. Hilary Duff, Come Clean
3. Justin Bieber, Baby
2. Miley Cyrus, Party in the USA
1. Celine Dion, My Heart Will Go On

The "Used" Thanksgiving Dinner

I am finally back on the blogging track, following the constant badgering from friends and family. By constant, I mean my mom begging me to write one because she was sick of seeing my dad’s 8-year-old face when she checked for updates. By constant, I mean the one email from my friend Jordan demanding a quote “Dayna Blog.” Oh! The pressure.

A few months ago I promised another Marty LeMasters blog. I’m a woman true to my word. As it’s Thanksgiving week, I felt that the following story was appropriate for sharing.

Note: As this story happened approximately 30 years ago, the accuracy of the story may be questionable. Please direct any discrepancies to Nick LeMasters.

I think it’s pretty obvious that my family likes a shindig. We like an excuse to gather, eat, and be merry. Well, that was the same when my parents were first married. The following story is shared annually and has been a story I have cherished since I was a young girl.

One Thanksgiving many years ago, the LeMasters siblings and those with spouses, gathered at 3051 Bruin Court for yet another Thanksgiving meal. Grandma Joan always set a beautiful table and the house smelled amazing. The usual suspects were assembled: The LeMasters Clan (Marty, Joan, Jackie, Kevin, Jerry, Jeannie, Nick, Robyn, Tom, and Molly), Nana, Jean, and Auntie Irene.

As was typical on most holidays, Marty announced to everyone that he needed to take a late-afternoon “nap.” This was code for “I have to sleep off the few pops I’ve enjoyed this afternoon.” Marty retreated to the bedroom.

At just about the time dinner was to be served, Marty arose from his slumber. Soon there after, the guests took their seats around the dinner table to begin their Thanksgiving feast.

Nick recalls this meal being particularly good…but maybe he was just hungry. The meal proceeded in the usual fashion: lively conversation, loud voices, and good food. As the legend goes, Uncle Tom wanted seconds of that delicious bird. Grandma Joan directed Uncle Tom to the kitchen, where he would have to carve more.

At that moment, Marty now over his post nap grogginess, decided he needed to weigh-in on the matter. As Nick recalls, Tommy was directed not toward the succulent bird in the kitchen, but to Jerry’s plate. A quick look revealed ample turkey, stuffing, and gravy remaining from the young man whose eyes were bigger than his stomach. It was not a pretty picture. A brief argument ensued between Tommy and Marty (not an uncommon occurrence).

The conversation may have sounded like this:
Tommy: Are you kidding me? Have you seen his plate?
Marty: Don’t let good food go to waste! We need the rest of the turkey for sandwiches.

Tom abruptly left the table, brief laughter ensued, and fresh turkey appeared on his plate.

Note: We believe Marty’s reaction may be attributed to Post Traumatic Stress (PTS) experienced while growing up in depression era New York City.

Tune in next time on “Infinite Twaddle” where Nick will recount the time he rejected Marty’s offer of red wine.

Money Doesn't Grow On Trees, Nick LeMasters

After my previous blog entry about fake sheriffs, my dad called up his mom to see if she had read my latest LeMasters’ tell all. She had in-fact read the story and was interested to know if he had regaled us with another famous story. I don’t know where I’ve been hiding, but I haven’t heard this one. However, I know it’s been told because my mom looked at me as he was telling it and mouthed, “He tells this all the time.”

As the story goes, Nick LeMasters was always on the hunt for money growing up. Grandma Joan used to say: “Nicky’s always got a few bucks in his pocket.” He valued money. He valued money from a young age. And so the following story was found about five-year-old Nick LeMasters in The Vallejo Times Herald.

IT’S RICH (August 6, 1963 - The Vallejo Times Herald)

CROP FAILURE – For every unsophisticated person there seems to be an opportunist ready to capitalize on his victim’s naiveté.

For instance, there’s the case of five-year-old Napa youngster who recently lost his first tooth. The next morning when he woke up, he found three shiny dimes the “good fairies” had deposited under his pillow during the night.

But instead of investing his newfound wealth in something substantial like popsicles or bubblegum, the youngster insisted on planting the coins in his backyard and raise “money trees.”

A few days later when he went to check his newly planted “crop,” the boy discovered to his dismay that his three silver seeds stamped with “E Pluribus Unum” had disappeared.

No direct accusations have been made, but the crestfallen youngster who had dreams of becoming wealthy by raising “money trees” recalls that a playmate – not quite as visionary as his friend – was with him when he “planted” his ten-cent piece “seeds.”

The Times said “no direct accusations have been made,” but upon deep reflection, we have a few new accusations. I asked Nick to reflect on that day so long ago. That day that should have been full of joy but was full of disappointment. This is how our conversation unfolded:

Me: Who was this kid with you?
Dad: My friend Don DeSoto.
Me: Well he’s a dirty rotten thief.
Dad: So it would seem. The article got it wrong, by the way, I planted the money under the Hawthorne tree in the Hancock’s front yard.
Me: Ooh. See that’s important information. That means more people were aware of the situation. Why did you go back to dig up that 30 cents?
Dad: Well, I had told my mom and dad what I had done and they told me that’s not how money works. Money doesn’t actually grow on trees.
Me: Ooh. See that implicates them. Personally I think the notorious Marty LeMasters went out there and dug that 30 cents up and put it toward his weekly serving of Alfredo's pizza.
Dad: Good point! Perhaps grandma Joan coerced Tommy into digging it up and then sent him down to buy a pack of Pall Mall Reds.
Me: OH! The possibilities. If only your little five-year-old mind had been as suspicious as mine.

Anyway. The point of this sad little tale is that Nick LeMasters was ripped off. If you know the whereabouts of his 30 cents, please contact us ASAP. Oh…with inflation…I’d say it’s about 5 bucks.

The Childhood Memory of Nick LeMasters

The above photo is of Nick LeMasters with an original Joan LeMasters' haircut. I would also like to report that he still wears white collared shirts on a regular basis.

I was once again regaled by a story from my dad’s childhood. I love his stories and I love the sixties.

The other night my family and I were chatting at my brother Ryan’s house. During this time his dog Chili decided to get cozy with my mom and myself. Chili the dog is a shedder and Ryan is self-conscious about this. So, he told her to get away from us and she wouldn’t listen. Ryan then said, “UGH! Chili if you don’t stop I’m taking you on my cattle drive. Then you can see how other dogs are treated.”

My mom started laughing and said, “Where did that come from?” Ryan immediately told her that it came from her. Yes. That’s correct. When we were kids my mom would threaten us with Kindercare if we were misbehaving. She would say, “If you don’t stop this right now, we’re driving down to Kindercare, and you can see how other kids live.”

I’ve told this story numerous times over the years and was entertained to find out that many parents threaten their kids with similar actions. For some it was a “mysterious bus that will pick them up and take them away” and for others it was “Juvenile Hall.”

This is what parents have to resort to when spanking is no longer allowed by society. I did recently find out that a similar technique was being used in The LeMasters’ household mid 1960s.

Dad: I’ll tell you what. I was so gullible as a kid.
Me: What are you talking about?
Dad: Well, when I was a kid and we were misbehaving at dinner…you know throwing peas at your Uncle Tommy or something…we’d hear a knock. When we would ask what it was, your Grandma Joan would say, “That’s Tommy Joyce. He’s the Sheriff of Vallejo. If you don’t behave, he is going to take you down to the station in the back of his paddywagon.”
Me: Oh.My.Gosh.
Dad: Scared me half to death. Little did I know it was just Grandma knocking on the bottom of the table. It worked like a charm.

I’m not gonna lie to you. I’ll probably be using this technique when I have children.

How To Break The Bank...Circus Style

The circus recently came to Denver, Colorado and some of the LeMasters clan attended. The preparation for the circus was time consuming, but we all wanted to have a fun time with the little ones…within a budget. But, let’s be honest. As with all things like Disneyland, the zoo, the fair, Miracles on Ice, a trip to Target…things tend to get out of hand.

2 Weeks Ago:
Mom: Can you go to the Dollar Store and get some light up toys for the kids, before we go to the circus?
Me: Wooh! We’re sneaking toys into the circus? That’s not okay. We’ll get caught!
Mom: Yeah. Grab some treats, too! You know what a rip off food is at these things.
Me: You realize I’m the one who will be carrying the bag full of contraband, right? If I get caught, I’m dropping the bag and running!
Mom: First of all, I’m never robbing a bank with you. Second of all, I’ll hide stuff in my boots if I have too.
Me: That is disgusting!

Thursday…Day Before The Circus:

Dollar Store (On The Phone):

Me: Hey, Mom! I’m at the Dollar Store and they only have glow sticks.

Mom: Right.

Me: Not right. Glow sticks are stupid. Annie & Zach will want light up toys.

Mom: O.K.A.Y. Get some light up toys.

Me: They don’t have any!

Mom: Then go somewhere else.

Me: This is turning into an ordeal. You said they have light up toys!

Mom: They do. They’re glow sticks.

Me: Fine…I’ll get these, but I’m going to Party City for the good ones.

Mom: Fine. Whatever. It will still be cheaper.

Amount Spent at Dollar Store: $6.00

Party City (On The Phone):

Me: Hey, Dad! I’m at Party City and they have light up toys for 4.99 each. Should I get them?

Dad: Get them.

Me: Are you sure they’ll be cheaper than the circus?

Dad: ABSOLUTELY! GET THEM!

Amount Spent at Party City: $10.oo

Grocery Store (On The Phone):

Me: Hey! What do you want for snacks?

Mom: Whatever…things we can hide.

Me: Ugh! I don’t like this at all.

Mom: You really need to stop worrying about this.

Me: Okay! I’ll grab fruit snacks, starburst, licorice, and mini-Hershey bars.

Mom: And suckers! We need suckers.

Amount Spent at Grocery Store: $10.00

Friday...Night of the Circus

My mom felt that we should eat before heading to the circus, as the food would be over-priced and unhealthy. I feel like I missed out on an amazing fake-nacho-cheese experience, but whatever. We stopped at Chick-Fil-A on the way.

Amount Spent at Chick-Fil-A: $20.00

At this point, we're still on track for a night at the circus without breaking the bank. That is until we arrived and someone (my mom) got a little over-excited.

Mom: Annie, Zach! Go with Auntie and Gramps and they will get you a toy!

Me: Wooh! I thought we brought the light up toys so they wouldn't buy toys?

Mom: Oh! You can't say no.

Me: No one asked for anything! You are offering!

Mom: Be fun, Auntie! Go get the toys.

Me: Yeah. I'm the bad guy. Who went around town buying all the crap in my bag?

Mom: Now we'll have more crap.

Horse: $16.00

Motorcycle: $12.00...Someone was a little tired.

Mom: Gramps! We need popcorn.

Dad: How Many do you want?

Mom: A box for both of the kids...so two.

Total for popcorn: $15.00

Mom: Gramps! We need icies!

Dad: Those are like 15 bucks each.

Mom: We're having fun! We need them.

Total for icies: $30.00

Mom: Gramps! We need clown glasses!

Dad: Nope. Not happening. There is a limit. We've reached the limit. I am literally out of cash.

Me: Seriously, mom. Those things are so cheap and over-priced.

Mom: Wow! Not fun!

By the end of the night, we broke the bank. The Bank of Gramps. So...all in all...total amount spent? Oh! Please! Doesn't matter...It was a priceless night.

Oh! You Never Ask That...

Over the weekend we celebrated Nick’s 1st birthday. After the festivities, we went back to Ryan and Emily’s for a chat. While we sat around and gabbed, we munched on cinnamon bears. They were delicious…and now I’m on a cinnamon bear kick. This means that yesterday I went down to the store and bought a bag of those delicious bears. Every time I purchase a bag of gummies, I always end up thinking about this one Christmas…

It's no big secret that I was a chubby kid…I think we all remember Fat Jeans & Too High of Expectations. I mean, look at these pictures.

How’s that corn dog working out for you?

Really? You can’t put down the bag of Skittles for the picture. Sugar addict.

And this famous picture, I’m pretty sure my mom thought I would win a beauty contest.

Anyway. One Christmas when I was six or seven, my brother Ryan bought me a tin of gummy bears, like a huge tin, like the size of my face. I was so excited! I had never seen so many gummy bears…and they were all mine! I immediately ripped the tin open and started munching. There is literally a home video of me from that night and you can barely hear a word I’m saying because my mouth is full of bears.

So. As Christmas Eve was winding down, Ryan asked me for a gummy bear. Who does that? Why would he ask me for a bear? He gave me the tin. You don’t ask for a piece of candy that you give someone. Why would he do that? They were mine to do as I pleased with!

Oh. Um. Hmm. Did I mention that I had already eaten the whole tin? That’s right. I ate an entire tin of gummy bears in a period of one hour. So, I was defensive and said, “No. Those are mine! You can’t have any.”

But…I think we’ve determined that I can’t lie and people always know I’m hiding something…so my mom starred at me for a second and said, “You ate them all, didn’t you?” My little seven-year-old self was mortified. I think I started crying. I was so embarrassed. Oh. Um. Did I mention that my mom does not respond well when she’s surprised? She actually said, “WOW! I can’t believe you did that.” It was awful. Merry Freakin’ Christmas.

I guess the point of this story is:
1. NEVER ask for a piece of candy you have given me, it’s probably already gone.
2. NEVER say, “You ate them all, didn’t you?” It just makes the person feel worse.
3. NEVER say, “Who ate all the such and such?” I mean, come on, you know who ate it! Why do you have to ask…it’s a guilt trip, that’s why people ask.

Anyway. The cinnamon bears are all gone…Who ate them all? I don’t want to point fingers, but Robyn LeMasters ate them.

A Drug Induced Conversation

Instead of providing you with quotes this week, I decided that a better use of our time together would be to provide you with tidbits from our days at home with my dad…post surgery. If you’ll recall, he is not a nice guy when he has procedures done…Heidi’s & Colonoscopies. So here you go…top one-liners and exchanges.

Dad: Am I being nice?

Dad: I can’t feel my teeth. Something is wrong.
Mom: That’s because your face is numb. You’re fine.
Dad: No. This isn’t right! I can’t feel my teeth. Get a nurse!
Nurse: Sir, this is perfectly normally. You’re just numb.
Dad: Yeah. That’s what I thought. I was just checking.

Dad: Where’s Dayna?

Dad: I want to change.
Mom: I’ll go get you some clothes.
Dad: I don’t want black shorts! I want my white shorts. What is that? I don’t want a button up shirt! I want my Woolrich shirt, the grey one.
Mom (As she walks past me): I want to poke him in the eye.

Dad: Where’s Dayna?

Mom: Nick, please stop trying to smile. It’s creeping me out.

Dad: Where’s Dayna?

Dad: I hate this tape over my nose. It’s really awful. I have to breathe through my mouth and my glasses keep fogging up.

Dad: I’m not wearing these damn blood clot socks anymore.
Mom: You have to wear them for two days. You’ve only had them on for one.
Dad: Don’t care. Not doing it.

Me: Hey. Mom said you want another Jamba Juice, so…
Dad: I don’t want Jamba Juice! I want a muffin.
Me: Okay. Did you have a specific one in mind?
Dad: I want a Starbucks blueberry muffin. Not the non-fat. I want all the fat.
Me: Anything else with that, sir?
Dad: Yes. I want an iced tea. Four Splenda. It’s not right without four. You can get yourself something, too.
Me: Oh. Don’t you worry; you were already buying me something.

This may be my favorite:
Dad: You know what mom said to me? She said I’d be a mean drunk.

He did ask me to take a picture of him, but I think that was the drugs talking...

Insults & Comebacks

It’s no secret that people easily annoy me. It’s not something I’m proud of. But really people! Stop being so weird. Anyway, due to my tendency to dislike people, the following will come as no surprise to anyone.

Today my dad is having his nose surgery. Don’t you love how scientific I am? If you’ve ever had surgery before, you know that you pick your dinner very wisely; as it is the last thing you’ll eat for 12 hours. So the supportive people we are, we joined him at Chipotle. Following our little gathering we went on an impromptu accessories trip.

As per usual, my dad spent that time flipping through books in the shop (most accessory stores have hilarious books). As I was walking around I kept hearing him chuckle. When I asked what he was reading, he told me it was a book called “Insults & Comebacks: Pithy Proclamations.” I was immediately intrigued. I even stopped browsing for a second to join in the fun. Needless to say, we left the shop with the book.

As we were walking to the car, I would read out random insults. After about the fifth insult my dad said, “Huh. You know what’s funny? These sound completely natural coming out of your mouth. You have that perfect sarcastic tone.” I didn’t know whether to be insulted or not.

Anyway. I’ve pulled 10 of my favorite insults from the book. Enjoy!

10. Whatever look you were going for, you missed.

9. Yes. I’ve heard that story before. An hour ago.

8. Oh. I’m sorry. You’ve obviously mistaken me for someone who cares.

7. Oh. My. Gosh. Are you still talking?

6. I wish I was as smart as you think you are.

5. Oh, I’m sorry- I didn’t realize I was supposed to laugh.

4. Okay. Clearly you’ve chosen knowing everything over having friends.

3. As an outsider, what do you think of the human race?

2. I’m trying to imagine you with a personality.

1. I don’t mind your talking as long as you don’t mind my not listening.

The Man Behind The Curtain

I know what you're thinking...and yes...my hair does still look like this in the morning.
Santa...No...More like an elf.

I don’t know how Santa treated you as a kid, but he was kinda-sorta-totally awesome at the LeMasters’ house. He would always ate the cookies, he would leave a trail of leaves around the living room (mom was peeved about that), and one year I wrote him a note on Christmas Eve asking for an Easy Bake Oven…and he brought it! He was magical.

Let’s be honest, Nick and Robyn LeMasters did a brilliant job with the whole charade. I can’t imagine the amount of time that went into setting up the night before. No, wait, hold that thought…I can totally imagine it! Why? I got a glimpse of what I believe Christmas Eve used to look like back in the good old days.

Last week we went over to Ryan and Emily’s to watch the kiddos. It came complete with baby-proofed cabinets (damn things), my mom building a fort in the basement, and my dad putting together a toy for Mr. Nick. It took him a good amount of time to put it together…this is how our conversation went.

Me: You all right there? It looks like you’re struggling with the seat.
Dad: These directions are misleading. Look at the picture. What is that? This is ridiculous.
Me: I think you may need to turn the seat inside out and fold it over.
Dad: No. That doesn’t seem right.

A Little Later…
Dad: Oh. You know what I think? I think we have to turn this inside out.
Me: Wow. That is brilliant. I bet that will work perfectly.
Dad: It’s working! Wow. Done. This is great. Glad I worked that out.
Me: Yeah. You are awesome. Brilliant.
Having the time of his life.

Nick’s 1st birthday is coming up in a week and I was sent out to buy a present. What did I buy? A fantastic car that he controls with his feet. Yes, assembly was required.

Me: How long have you been working on this?
Dad: A little while. I’ve stopped to watch football as I go.
Me: Wow. Glad you’re paying attention. I bet a wheel will fly off when Nick sits in it.
Dad: I’ve been building things for years. I know what I’m doing.

A Little Later…
Dad: Are you kidding me?
Me: What’s happening? How’s it coming?
Dad: These decals are ridiculous. The adhesive is too strong.
Me: Wow. That sounds terrible. You know what was also not fun? Carrying that box to my car.
Dad: Wow. I bet that was a real struggle for you. I mean honestly, you practically built this.
Me: I think those eye stickers go on the windshield.
Dad: I’m not there yet. I follow the directions.

A Little Later…
Dad: Done!
Me: I like it. Nicely done.
Dad: You know? Most grandpas or pops or granddads would have just given this to him in a box. I am a Gramps. Gramps builds things!
Me: Ugh. Please don’t refer to yourself in the third person. It’s totally creepy.
Dad: Gramps is awesome.

I would like to add that I just know that my future husband is going to love my commentary at midnight on Christmas Eve.

The Great Debate

We all do different things with our money. If I had 450 bucks just lying around I would head on down to Anthropologie and buy clothes. By clothes I mean a pair of pants and a top…That store is ridiculously priced…I still love it, though. My mom would use 450 dollars on the backyard. My dad uses the money to buy a new driver…leading to one of the greatest conversations I have ever been subject to!

Mom: You just bought a new driver.

Dad: No. I bought one 5 years ago. The technology changes all the time. I could have bought one 2 years ago, but I didn’t. I waited. It’s time.

Mom: This is ridiculous! You just want a new one because you think that it’s going to get you to the hole in one swing.

Dad: Not one, but less. Yes.

Mom: This is stupid. What happened to wooden clubs?

Dad: Are you kidding me? It’s not even a comparison.

Mom: So you’re saying that if Arnold Palmer used wooden clubs he wouldn’t be as good?

Dad: You only know his name from the drink! He would be good, but not as amazing as if he had the newest technology.

Mom: What about bowling balls? That technology hasn’t changed there.

Me: What are you talking about?

Mom: Oh. Be quite! Okay. What about tennis rackets? There is nothing wrong with wooden tennis rackets.

Dad: Are you kidding me? If you used a wooden racket against someone with the newest strings you would be killed.

Mom: Yeah, but if we both had wooden rackets, I bet we’d have a great time.

Dad: Right. Whatever. I’m saying that if you’re playing competitively, you want the best.

Mom: OH! WOW! Competitively. I didn’t realize you were competitive. I had forgotten that you played for 50 cents a hole once a week. WOW!

Dad: I’m competitive with myself. Dayna, help me out here!

Me: No. I just got yelled at. I’m out of this. I will be blogging about it, though!

Mom: Whatever. Go get your asshole drive.

Dad: Wow. There is no reason to get like that! I don’t like curse words.

Me: I think she meant asinine.

Mom: Exactly. Whatever. I’m not the only one using words incorrectly around here. Competitive. PLEASE!

I would just like to say that if this is the biggest argument I have with my future husband after 33 years, I will feel completely blessed. I would also like to add that my dad did get the new golf club and he was like a child on Christmas morning.

The Escape Artist

I should probably preface this entry by saying that my dad called me yesterday to say, “Dayna. I’ve got your next blog.” Little did he know, I already had this idea in the back of my mind…but yesterday’s events were kind of the cherry on top of the sundae (I think that’s the phrase).

Since my mom was my age, probably even before that, she has always had a way with people. She’s a talker. Small talk, short stories, long stories, it doesn’t matter. She can talk with strangers or friends or family. I did not get that gene. I only talk to people I know well. I’ve never been good at the whole small talk thing. Apparently this is a skill you can learn, I haven’t accomplished that yet.

My mom is also charming. So, mix charm and a whole lot of talk and what do you get? A get out of ticket free card!

2 Weeks Ago:
Mom: I got pulled over by a police officer this morning at 4:30.
Me: Oh. My. Gosh. You finally got a ticket! What did you do?
Mom: No. I did not. He pulled me and over and when he came to the window I said, “Are you okay?” He thought that was funny. But honestly, he was acting really weird when he pulled me over.
Me: Oh. My. Gosh.
Mom: Yeah. So he said, “Do you not use signals?” and I said, “Not at 4:30 in the morning.” So he wanted my ID but I couldn’t get it out of my wallet and I told him I was going to the hospital and that I had a headache. He asked if I was going to the hospital for the headache and I said, “Silly! I work there.” Anyway. He said forget the ticket. He just looked at my name badge and said I could leave.
Me: If I had pulled you over and you started talking like that, I would have given you a Breathalyzer.
Mom: I know! Anyway. I just kept thinking I’m glad he didn’t see me driving down the road and treating red lights like stop signs.
Me: Oh. My. Gosh. Why were you changing lanes that early anyway?
Mom: It’s not my fault that some 75-year-old woman was driving in front of me. I wasn’t putting up with that.

Yesterday…While on the phone with me….
Mom: Oh. Just a second, some police officer is waving at me. “What? Oops. I’m sorry. I’ll slow down.”
Me: Wait. What just happened?
Mom: Oh. This officer was waving at me and I yelled out the window what and he said the speed limit was 25 and I was going 35.
Me: Did you stop?
Mom: No. I just said sorry and kept going. I’m watching him out of the mirror. He’s just laughing.
Me: Oh. My. Gosh. Wow. Okay. This is ridiculous. Anyone else would have gotten a ticket. I think you’re a little escape artist!
Mom: Yep. Record is still clean!

I should add that I think my dad holds a lot of resentment about these events...his driving record is not too pretty (Always the speed traps).

Top LeMasters Quotes...This Week

1. If someone called me drunk at 1am and said, "I need you" I'd be furious. -Robyn LeMasters after hearing Lady Antebellum's Need You Now.

2. I found my keys. They were in with the Cheetos. -Robyn LeMasters

3. If I found a fairy, I'd smash it. -Zach LeMasters, Age 3

4. I'm perusing Dayna's Facebook. I'm allowed to...It's all about me! -Nick LeMasters

5. So anyway I told the vet that if I was bleeding in a cave, I'd let a dog lick my wounds. -Robyn LeMasters after being told by the vet that dog's saliva having healing abilities is most likely a myth.

Heidi's & Colonoscopies

As promised…A story about Nick LeMasters’ belligerent ways when he has any sort of surgery. This story comes from his colonoscopy. I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, mostly because he’s going under the knife for some sort of nose/smell issue. Apparently, he has a 70% blockage. Personally, I say keep the blockage. I’m at 100% smell capacity and it's no picnic. The things I’ve smelled…

We’ll see if the surgery even happens. I think he was a little put off when my mom told him about a patient that came to the hospital. Apparently, he had the same procedure and has had a constant runny nose for the past year. This story was followed by her telling my dad, “I’m not going to put up with that.”

Anyway. About a year ago my dad went in for his colonoscopy. I had never seen him on any drugs before…but this way eye opening. He came home with my mom and was totally out of it. He sat down on the couch and the following exchange happened as my mom was putting his clothes away.

Mom: Nick. What are these?
Dad: What?
Mom: These socks?
Dad: I got them at the hospital. I liked them.
Mom: I specifically told you these were not to come home with us! They're gross. You snuck them in the bag when I wasn’t looking.
Dad: Of course I did! I love those socks.
Mom: See. This is why I hate when you get stuff done. You think you’re a little general and in charge…I’ve got news for you buddy…YOU ARE NOT. These are going in the trash.

1 Hour Later:
Dad: I’m hungry.
Mom: I’ll make you some cream of wheat.
Dad: I’m not eating that! I want a sandwich. Let’s go to Heidi’s.
Mom: We are not doing that. You need to rest. You shouldn’t be eating that big of a meal anyway.
Dad: We’re going. I want an egg salad sandwich.

We Drove to Heidi’s…He ate half a sandwich and turned white…he threw up on the way home…

Mom: Are you kidding me? I told you this would happen!
Dad: It has nothing to do with the sandwich. It’s your driving. Anyone would get sick.
Mom: So we’re done with this conversation. Go take a nap. We’ll talk when you’re not being mean.

Looking forward to next week! I’ve got news for you Nick LeMasters, we’re not taking any orders from you!

The Case of The Stolen Shoes

We’ve been having some troubles over here at the LeMasters. What is wrong, you ask? I will tell you. It’s called Robyn LeMasters stealing Dayna LeMasters’ things. That’s right. The number of times I’ve walked in on her wearing a shirt of mine or ugh a pair of shoes (disgusting). Yes. As of recent I’ve been missing shoes…only to find them on my mom’s feet…while she works in the yard.

2 Weeks Ago:

Me: What’s happening on your feet?
Mom: What do you mean?
Me: I mean those shoes.
Mom: I know aren’t they cute?
Me: Yeah. I should know! They’re mine!
Mom: I don’t think so. No. These are mine.
Me: My checkbook would beg to differ.
Mom: Wow. Selfish.

Saturday:
Me: I like that owl shirt.
Mom: Isn’t it cute? I forgot I had it. It was in the ironing closet.
Me: You didn’t forget you had it. It’s not yours! It’s mine.
Mom: No. You gave it to me. You said the neck was funky.
Me: You made that up. That never happened!
Mom: Well, I’m wearing it.

Monday:

Me: Those shoes are cute.
Mom: Stop right there. These are not yours!
Me: YES THEY ARE! STOP TAKING MY SHOES AND PUTTING YOUR SWEATY LITTLE FEET IN THEM.
Mom: THESE ARE MINE!
Me: Lies!

Dad: Let’s just calm it down. I mean the number of times I’ve heard about you taking mom’s stuff and stretching it…
Me/Mom: What are you talking about?
Dad: I recall a boot-stretching incident.
Me: ARE YOU KIDDING ME? THAT WAS 2 YEARS AGO!
Mom: Oh. Yeah. I still haven’t really gotten over that. Those were my favorite.
Me: Wow. I think you got over it. You’ve bought at least 20 more pairs of boots since then…
Mom: Yeah. See, Nick, this is why you shouldn’t talk. You don’t really know what you’re talking about.
Dad: How did I become the bad guy?

Tuesday:

Me: Are you kidding me?
Mom: What?
Me: Those are mine.
Mom: No they’re not. They barely fit me. There is no way they are yours! You would never wear these.
Me: FALSE! I do wear those. Wow. Look at the dirt stains. They are ruined.
Mom: Put them on right now. They won’t fit you.
Me: That is so gross. Your foot has been in them for at least an hour.
Mom: PUT IT ON!
Me: Fine. See? Perfect fit.
Mom: Well. You never wear them, so they’re mine.
Me: You now owe me like three pairs of shoes. What are you going to do when I leave? I feel like an epic throw down is going to happen.
Mom: No it won’t. I’ll just say take the craphole things…SELFISH!

Single Mormon Seeks Eternal Partner

Where to begin this story? I guess I should begin by informing you all that Mormons tend to marry young. So, when you’re a 24-year-old, single, Mormon, girl…people start to think that there is something wrong with you. Honestly, I may as well be a 45-year-old woman, with 12 cats (I dislike cats, so at least that will never happen).

I think it has been determined throughout writing this blog that I am a bit anti-social and a bit of a nerd. Who can we blame my outcome on? I think it’s perfectly okay to blame the anti-social parents, the junior bishop brother, and the comic book geek brother. Yes. This is how I became a 24 year old, anti-social, single, Mormon, nerd. Thanks LeMasters. Big thanks.

This was only reinforced a week ago when the junior bishop, Ryan sent me an email. An email entitled: “Mormon Men Waiting Longer To Marry, Worrying Church Officials.” After reading the article I immediately wrote him to ask, “What the hell he was thinking sending me this?” He told me, “I thought it would make you feel better to know that guys are just losers now a days. They only care about having a good time. So you shouldn’t worry about getting married.” UM, THANKS! Guess I totally have something to look forward to.

Despite my glass half empty view of the world, I still plunge ahead. This meaning, that yes I still attend Family Home Evening on Monday nights…despite the horrid Communication Seminar. So, last night I headed out, but not before this hilarious/depressing/ridiculous conversation took place.

Mom: Why are you dressed up? Where you headed?

Me: My favorite place EVER! Family Home Evening. I’m going to ask you something. It may sound a little strange, but do my eyebrows look weird to you?

Mom: I honestly can’t see your eyebrows without my glasses. Why would you ask that?

Me: I may or may not have had a plucking mishap. So, I may or may not have used a pencil to fill in the holes. Now I’m nervous that I will start sweating and my eyebrow will drip off.

Mom: Wow. That will get you some attention.

Me: Great. Big help. Hey, dad. Look at my eyebrows. Do they look weird?

Dad: Are you sure you’re asking the right person?

Me: Come on? Seriously. Tell me.

Dad: The left one has a hirer arch.

Me: Are you kidding me? I meant do they look too dark! WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE LEFT ONE HAS A HIRER ARCH? OH.MY. GOSH. I’m not going.

Mom: Don’t be ridiculous. Just cover it with your bang. I’m looking now and they do look a little weird. One is definitely longer than the other.

Me: Wow. I’m not going. I’m going to get a blizzard. It will be stupid anyway.

Mom: See! This is why you’re single. You should go and when it turns stupid you should turn to the guy next to you and say, “Hey! Let’s get out of here and go grab a blizzard.”

Me: Wow. You know what would happen in that scenario? I would end up asking the guy that thinks covering toilet paper with duck tape and then playing dodge ball with it is totally awesome. That’s what would happen.

Mom: That’s probably true.

Me: Ugh! I’m leaving.

These are the eyebrows in question...

This is how I left my mom…in heaps of laughter. Laugh it up. Laugh it up.

1 hour later…

Mom: So, how was it?

Me: They played human checkers. I left. I got us blizzards. Now I’m going to cuddle up on the couch and watch the new X-Men movie.

Dad: Hey! I saw a commercial for a single Christian website!

Me: I’m going to need to insist that you stop talking now.

I would like to inform you that the X-Men movie is fantastic…even though I was ashamed to buy it. I would also like to inform you that the blizzard was delicious. Lastly, I would like to inform you that I’m a Taurus, I like long walks on the beach, I love sunsets, love dogs, and I can probably tell you the given names of any comic book character. Call me…unless you’re weird or creepy or have bad teeth.