California Dreamin' at the Emmy's

I just caught up on my sleep after a whirlwind trip to the Lazyboy to view the Emmys.  As usual, our celebrity bff's red carpet creations have given us a lot to ponder...

 This outfit is rated M...to be worn by mature muppets only

Fluffing the hair, slathering on the makeup...

sometimes there is just not enough time 

to put a whole outfit together

Sometimes you can see the northern lights, even in southern California

Once in a while you can have a flashback even when you don't do drugs

Ditto

Beware wicked stepmothers with shiny silver apples

I knew it!  Dwight Shrute is stalking Mr. Hamm

This dress makes a statement, but unfortunately no one can read it

Ever since "Castaway" Rita has humored Tom's  compulsion to make dresses 

out of bits scavenged from the garage

Toni went all the way to make a statement about 

the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico

Just imagine how this dress would liven up a funeral

You never know when a couple

of bath sponges might come in handy

If the defense department won't get serious about 

protective armor for the troops, 

then Anna Pacquin will

It's always embarrassing when a new mother 

forgets to remove the burp cloth

Something bold

something new

something horrored

something blue

All photos can be found here

Just say QuizNOOOOOOOOOOO

Personally,

I would prefer 

that my sub sandwich

not be made 

by 

kitties without hairnets

I'm taking the day off to make prank phone calls and eat birthday chocolates.  Enjoy this reblog

Elvis' hair sells for $15K at Chicago auction
CHICAGO (AP) - A clump of hair believed to have been trimmed from Elvis Presley's head when he joined the Army in 1958 has sold for $15,000 at a Chicago auction house.

I have to admit, the greed vector of my brain lit up when I read the above news tidbit. $15K, for some hair? I immediately looked through my hair collection to see if I had anything of value. BINGO! Sometimes it pays to be a hoarder, in spite of what Dr. Phil says.


I quickly called up my favorite antique appraisers, those adorable spunky twins, Leigh and Leslie Keno. Now, as you know, Antiques Roadshow has more than its share of hunkalicious dudes, but these two, well let’s just say that this twin package of slim sophistication should carry plenty of insurance.

Me: Hello, is that you Leslie and Leigh?


L&L: Good afternoon Mrs...?


Me: Oh please, call me Larainy, I’m not one of your antiques you know.


L&L: Our apologies Larainy, what can we do for you?


Me: I’ve got some hair to sell.


L&L: You say you have a Gregorian horsehair sofa from the Byzantine Empire circa 1630?


Me: Not a horsehair sofa, just some hair.


L&L: Is the hair sitting on a piece of antique furniture?


Me: No, I’ve got it in a Ziploc bag in my underwear drawer.


L&L: You keep hair in your underwear drawer?


Me: Only valuable hair. Do you want to hear about it or not?


Leigh: Have you washed it?


Leslie. Does it still have a patina?


Leigh: Is it in the original packaging?


Leslie: Does it have any civil war bullet holes in it?


Me: Easy boys, hold onto your knickers.


L&L: How do you know we wear knickers?


Me: Oh for heaven’s sake, everyone on Antiques Roadshow wears knickers. Now, do you want to hear about the hair or not?


L&L: Please, do tell.


Me: Well boys, while I hate to reveal my hair harvesting secrets, but let’s just say that I am the reason Mr. Trump has a perpetual combover.

L&L: Gasp! You snatched the Donald bald-headed?


Me: It was an accident, I thought it was a mohair scarf fluttering in the breeze.


L&L: So you can provide provenance?


Me: Ohhhh yeah.  The roots are still attached, you can see them if you put on your reading glasses.


L&L: Hold on to that hair. We’re on the next plane to Phoenix.


Me: Bring a suitcase full of cash boys, Donald isn’t producing any more hair and this deal ain’t going to be cheap.

If Today is Your Birthday

If today is your birthday...

You were born three days before Michael Jackson, but should refrain from doing the moonwalk again at your next high school class reunion

You like your chocolate dark but are not averse to consuming it during daylight hours

You have a secret crush on Alex Trebek

You were too uncoordinated to make the junior high basketball team, and were demoted to "statistician", which means that 

 "statistically" you are a card carrying nerd

 

Your favorite movie is "What About Bob" because Bob Wiley proves that someone else is crazier than you

Your fondest hope to  have a slumber party in the Lincoln bedroom, drinking diet Coke and eating white cheddar popcorn while watching "What About Bob" on the Yankee 50" flat screen will not be realized

You might get rich this year, but you will probably have to settle for claiming the dollar bill you will find in the lint trap of your dryer

The Poisonfood Bible

Larainy Days has long been dedicated to disseminating life saving tips for clueless, careless readers like you.  I hear constantly, well not constantly... okay I have never heard from anyone whose life has been spared due to my safety tips, but that is probably just because some people are very thoughtless when it comes to saying thanks.  In spite of ingratitude, I shall press on and save countless lives today with

DON'T EAT THIS!

Don't eat eggs that contain salmonella.  Avoid any eggs exhibiting a salmon color or those sold by the man with the salmon complexion and prominent gills at the egg stand beside the algae filled pond in your neighborhood.

Don't eat anything that resembles a religious figure, especially if you can sell it for an enormous sum on ebay to the clueless but faithful

Don't eat anything that is currently reproducing, even if it is the only thing you have ever been able to grow.

Don't eat anything labeled "bad" by your grocery store's legal department

Don't eat any vegetable from which you can pull off threads to mend your clothing

Don't eat the homemade jerky sold by this family from the back of a rusted Chevy at the side of the highway next to a possum farm.

Dumpster Diving

Emily:  "Grandpa, why don't you go to the gym like other grandpas do?"

Grandpa Thor:  "Because nothing speeds up my metabolism like deep inhale of dumpster vapors before breakfast."


photos found here

Gazing At Elizabeth's Navel

Miss Elizabeth Gilbert has changed a lot of lives and made a lot of women hungry for Italian food with her introspective book "Eat, Pray Love"*.  This book is so introspective that after reading it you have automatically qualified for a Doctorate in Elizabethan Gilbertology** at the University of Phoenix.

**Available for $99.99 in three easy installments, suitable for framing

Since you can't afford to take a year off, I would like to offer you, my dear readers, an abbreviated version of the Elizabethan journey.  In fact, it only takes a day and you don't need a passport and the psychic damage connected with obtaining a passport photo that doesn't look like you at all but like a distant relative with a haunting past and a bad haircut.  Plus, it will cost you less than a ticket to a boring movie.  (See above*)


First...                   

 EAT

Start out with a nice stack of blueberry pancakes and butter syrup, two slices of bacon and a tall beverage of your choice.  Then go back to your unmade bed and sleep for a while because whoa boy, pancakes sure can make you sleepy.  When you are suitably refreshed, you are ready for the next step

                              
 

PRAY

Sit on the floor in the kindergarten position; the one where you twist your legs into a pretzel shape because your teacher won't let you go to the bathroom until recess.  Now sit up straight, now relax, no, I said sit up straight, now relax, oh forget it just close your eyes and empty out your mind.  Imagine a tiny dustbuster sucking around inside your cranium, vacuuming out the earwax, memories of that time you threw up on Patty Sims in the grade school cafeteria, guilt about that...shhhluuuuup all those dusty thoughts are getting sucked into the miniature ...  Okay, so this is not going to work.  Get in your car and drive to the dollar store where you can buy 6 sticks of incense for $1.  Drive home, light one up, wave it around with your eyes closed until you can't stand it anymore, douse it in the sink and go take another nap.

                                   

LOVE 

Go call your mother and tell her you love her for teaching you to pull up your big girl panties and quit worrying about yourself.  Then go take another nap.
  

The Fine Art of Gift Giving

My dear readers,

It has come to my attention that most of you are extremely cheap frugal, which is oh so stylish this year.  When it comes to gift giving you like to avoid driving to the store and wandering around aimlessly while you could be watching your treasured tivoed episodes of So You Think You Can Dance and eating chocolate moose track ice cream straight out of the carton protect the world's resources.

As usual, I can offer you the miserly ideal solution because I, like you am trying to carve enough out of the grocery budget to sneak in a pedicure live more "simply".


When a gift giving occasion arises, why not scrounge around your house and yard utilize your current inventory.  Ordinary objects, if  accompanied with a notecard full of crap imbued with enough mystique will be sure to please the most  critical and whiny discerning giftee.

Because you are as steadfast as this

beautiful polished stone, please accept

it as a token of my respect 

 

This lovely leaf drifted

through the air

and reminded me

of the way your mind works 

You are still

beautiful

even though your

skin is getting 

a 

little crunchy

(For a potential love interest)

You

are soft,

you smell good

and  baby,

you are 

highly flammable

I 

am so empty

when you're

not around.

un angelito en la mano

 There was as very small part of Eduardo that believed in peace, 

but the biggest part of him 

usually ended up beating the snot out of people.

Eduardo found here

Barbie Barbarity

WARNING!!!

Images that follow are extremely graphic

Cover your children's eyes if they have never
been exposed to Sponge Bob Square Pants

Detective Ken shook his head as he watched his new rookie losing his cookies in the bushes in front of the neatly groomed front yard.  Not that he didn't feel a bit queasy himself, Krispy Kreme chunks rolling around on an uneasy sea of iced latte in his stomach.  Yeah, it was a mess in there alright.

The call had come at 9:27 p.m., a frantic 911 from a pink Barbie phone, but by the time they got there it was too late.  This little lady was never going to make it to the Miss America pageant, never going to be an astronaut or bull fighter.  Her chance to wear that sweet white coat with the stethoscope draped around her elegant long neck or that gold prima donna ballerina outfit with the spangles... that was gone baby gone.

What had she done to provoke these two monsters?  Was it her flowing blonde mane that waved at them like a red flag?  Was it a sideways glance from those mesmerizing eyes, a flash of too much skin?  What?

Detective Ken barked at the rookie "Go get a statement and this time, make 'em talk.  Tell them we need more than whimpers."  The rookie wiped a trembling hand down his face and went up the steps.  Detective Ken took out the photos from the surveillance camera and took a deep breath.

 

It was going to be a long night.