Ga ga Over Summer

We're teetering on the brink of June, 

almost ready to plunge into the abyss 

of another endless summer 

(at least that's what it feels like in the Arizona desert).

Let's check in with a few above average Americans 

to find out what they plan to accomplish during the lazy months.

 Beverly plans to continue selling Avon at the Sunset Retirement Home
under the guise of free makeovers

Hester plans to continue honing her photoshopping skills after successfully substituting a smiling head for a nonsmiling head on her uncooperative husband, Stuart in the current family picture.

 Having successfully locating the end of the rainbow with the aid of a GPS device, Hector is determined to pinpoint  the elusive breeding grounds of unicorns.

 The "Arthur" Family hopes to continue their successful subterfuge posing as a fundamental survivalists growing jojoba in the Nevada deserts, after testifying against their notorious Santorini crime family cousins and entering the witness protection program.

This is the summer that Lucretia is finally going to stand up to her dominant twin, Lavinia 
and admit that she likes wearing glasses because she likes to look smart.

Warren and Cissy are going to continue to work hard in group on lingering anger issues over Mother's insistence on Irish step dancing lessons.  
Wilbur continues to be a fashion leader in the congregation.




 

After the tornados, Gilbert is finally going to have enough downed telephone poles 
to lash together a raft and float down the Mississippi. 

What are you going to do with your summer?

marvelous photos found here

Rocky Mountain High Fashion

When I saw Cowboy Ralph on Oprah the other day I was amazed at how many similarities there were between his operation in Colorado and the F Bar Ranch I grew up on in Arizona.

...starting with Cowboy Ralph's sweaty hat and ugly dog.

 but minus the snow covered mountains.


Let's listen as Cowboy Ralph confers with his ranch foreman, Chuluun, a handsome but rugged Mongolian expatriate who was forced out of his family camel ranch by his evil twin brother Sukh.  He was hired because of the authenticity and natural fibers of his well worn native dress, and is learning English by watching Masterpiece Theater.


Cowboy Ralph:  Hey Chuluun, how's it going?


Chuluun:  It is not going.  It is right here talking to you.


Cowboy Ralph:  Oh...yeah, right.  Did you take move those new heifers yet?


Chuluun:  It is accomplished.  We rode astride our equines  as we drove them to the high meadow pasture in a timely manner.


Cowboy Ralph:  Chuluun, you can relax.  There's no need to speak so formally, it's not the cowboy way.


Chuluun:  Oh yes (nodding vigorously). I remember, okay for the spitting, yes?


Cowboy Ralph:  Sure.  As long as Oprah's not around.  Now did you say you moved those Angus heifers into the high meadow pasture?


Chuluun:  (Beaming)  Yes.  They are happily ensconced.


Cowboy Ralph:  (Throwing fashionably sweaty cowboy hat to the ground in anger)  Dang it Chuluun.  How many times have I told you that black Angus is a terrible look for the high meadow pasture.  There isn't enough contrast, it's outdated, it's all wrong.  


Chuluun:  Beg pardon sir.  So sorry for the mistake in the nature of outmoding.

Cowboy Ralph:  (Picking up sweaty cowboy hat, admiring dust covered exterior).  It's okay pardner.  I admit my standards are high.

Chuluun:  (Joyfully) No problem.  My heart has plentitude of happy nature now that you have offered me partnership!


Cowboy Ralph:  Hold on there son, pardner is just a way of calling you friend without the actual friendship.  Comprende?


Chuluun:  Cognition is achieved.


Cowboy Ralph:  How about my new saddle?  Do you have someone working on it?


Chuluun:  Oh yes, weathering process continues hours 24 times 7.


Cowboy Ralph:  Now, remember, I don't want any artificial wearing.  I want an actual cowboy-butt patina on that leather.  


Chuluun:  Oh yes sir, yes sir, cowboy butts are working in vigorous shifts to obtain desirably aged nature.

Cowboy Ralph:  Good, good.  If there's anything I can't abide it's new leather.  It's an abomination.


Chuluun:  (Excited)  I proud to fast becoming citizen of Obama nation.  He exceedingly famous in Mongolia.


Cowboy Ralph:  Chuluun you're a hoot.  You know that?


Chuluun:  I go now.  Lot's of work pending for Chuluun.  Proceeding now to chicken corral for antiquing of hens.


Cowboy Ralph:  Don't forget to fray the feathers!  I'll be darned if I'm going to have a bunch of unauthentic glamour hens like that city slicker Ted Turner has on his ranch.

Real Men Wear Blue Plaid

When I come home successful after foraging for clothing in the wilds, I rip off the tags in a frenzy and wear my shirt/shorts/blouse/shoes/underwear/belt/hat at the first opportunity.  To do otherwise would not show proper respect to my new acquisition and could make closet integration awkward for the new garment on the block.

Wearing a new item of apparel gives the others a chance to rest, mixes up old pairings and keeps things fresh in wonderful world of my wardrobe

Somehow, this clothing etiquette does not seem to apply to the men I hang out with.

In sixth grade when I was in love with a blonde haired hunk of cluelessness named Ricky, I would strain my spectacle covered eyes to catch a glimpse of him in the hallway as we changed classes.  As I traveled from Math to English during that first week of school, it became easy to spot him because he wore the same blue plaid shirt every day.  

Every stinkin' day! 

Eventually, even my deep and abiding love could not excuse his poor wardrobe choices and I was forced to move on to someone else.  Actually, it may have had something to do with the fact that Ricky thought I had a weird laugh and that I had to stay home for two weeks with hepatitis, giving me somewhat of a Typhoid Mary vibe for the rest of the school year.

The man I married has no hunter gatherer instincts regarding clothing.  If I want him to wear something I have to forage it out for him.  And he won't wear just anything.  He is quite particular about pocket depth, belt loop count and fabric toxicity.

So, I bring home a stack of possibilities and arrange them in an attractive heap on the bed awaiting his attention.  Later, I move them to the chair because they are apparently under a Harry Potter invisibility cloak.  After a week of growing stale and rumpled draped over the chair, the invisibility cloak wears off and if I bug him, he may try something on.

My success rate is about 50% which is a 1% increase for each of the 30 years we have been married.  If I have scored a wardrobe triumph, the new item is then detagged and moved to his closet where will age for an average of 22 months before it becomes familiar enough to wear.  But...when he likes something, he really likes it.

Guess what his current favorite is?

I never could resist a man in a blue plaid shirt.

Hair to the Chief

NEW YORK (CBSNewYork/AP) – It seems like Donald Trump won’t be adding presidential candidate to his list of achievements after all.

After months of flirting with running for office, Trump said Monday he won’t run for president, choosing to stick with hosting “The Celebrity Apprentice" over a bid for the Republican nomination.

Well newshounds, you have come to the right place for the inside scoop. Larainy's impeccable sources have uncovered the actual deliberative process that lead The Donald to forsake the campaign trail for the fake boardroom at NBC.

 The Donald

consulted his closest friend...

for advice.




The Donald:  It's time old friend, it is time.

The Hair: You're not cutting me again are you?  I still haven't recovered from that butchering last year.


The Donald:  You have nothing to complain about.  Normal not-the-donald men get their hair cut every month.


The Hair:  Stop, stop, that's horrifying.

The Donald:  We have to decide whether I am going to be the next President of the United States or whether I am just going remain the most powerful man in America.


The Hair:  (silence)


The Donald:  Speak up, tell me what you're thinking.  You know how I rely on your golden gossamer strands for advice and to keep my clever brain toasty warm and supple.


The Hair:  It's just that I think we have a good thing going right now.  When I am crouching on your head in the boardroom of Celebrity Apprentice and feel my strands lifting in the breeze of your hot air...(sob) I have never been so happy.


The Donald:  (Takes out handkerchief to wipe moistness from eyes)  You're right, as usual.  You always seem to help me find my priorities.


The Hair: Then you're not going to do it?


The Donald:  No.  I'm going to call another press conference and announce that I'm not running.


The Hair:  Oh my, I better apply more hair spray so I'll glisten in the light.  I love you Donald


The Donald:  I love you most.

The Hair:  Is this a good time to discuss the "No Helmet" clause that I want to add to our contract?

The lovely Month of May Massacre

The jacaranda is shedding purple wool

The herb jungle is dense and mysterious

 The flower boxes groan, stuffed with blossoms

 The gardenias wax proudly 

about their superior odiferousness

Even the habitually humble geraniums are way over dressed

 

And yet, amid the bees, the blossoms and the gentle breezes there is carnage .

Noisy grackles dive bomb Nixon, 

taunting him with disdainful Grackle cackle.

 He lies in wait, feigning indifference 

and then leaps from the grass, 

snapping them out of the air with gator jaws

Score:  Nixon 4, Grackles 0

 

Larainy at Large

Either this is...  

• A man who is not ashamed of his prostate problem

or

• A man who is excessively proud of his water-saving toilet 

You be the judge

~*~

If you've been worrying about what to get the graduate in your life, look no further than Walgreens

  Perfect for either...

• a graduating middle schooler who will need supplies for those long boring summer nights to come when they are at a sleepover and someone's house needs decorating

or

• the kid going off to college who is finally going to have to learn that he can't effectively wipe his bum with the cardboard from an empty toilet paper roll.

Nuggets of Wisdom

 






Remember this book? 










It miraculously turned into hundreds more books about chicken soup. The author has made so much money he can now buy a gallon of chicken soup for every person in the world.  (The real kind, not the word kind)

Ever the one to tardily spot a trend, I am announcing my next best seller...

Chicken Nuggets for the Brain

This will be an intellectual tome devoted to deep thoughts from extraordinary people.  Hopefully my national book tour will be sponsored by my bff's at Chik-fil-A

Here is a sample to whet your appetite.

Never, never, never, never, never never, never, never give up.  Until your wife tells you to.

Ernest Tickler

 

We had a bunny farm in Africa...

Astrid and Britta Ejnar

The inspirational story of how I got to be valedictorian thanks to phenomenal study skills and the intimidation factor of the poison darts in my blow gun.

Crystal Bacon

How an enigmatic smile made me student boy president and kept me out of jail.

Jay Hamm, Jr.

How a random lick on the head from my dog Barney changed my hairstyle, changed my life and brought me Misty, the woman of my dreams.

Rusty Coon

Just Say Yes.  How psychotropic drugs took away my imaginary twin but gave me back my life.

Sophie Klotz

If you can dream it, you can become it.  Unless you wake up.  The story of my struggle with insomnia.

Bradley Nestor

His hair/her hair.  How I quit competing and saved our marriage

Magnus Follicle  

These delicious nuggets and more...coming soon.

beautiful people all found here

Memories are Made of Chicken

Maybe it's because I weep with pleasure while I drink their milkshakes, maybe it's because I blush when the cashier says "My pleasure".  I don't know why Chik-fil-A sends me darling little invitations via text message entitling me to special events, and I don't like to brag, 

BUT IT IS AWESOME!  

Do you know that nearly every month I receive a top secret code word via text message that entitles me to two-for-one milkshakes?  All I have to do is  lean across the counter crook my finger and whisper "milkshake madness" in my most sultry tone into the trembling ear of a Chik-fil-A employee who will swallow noisily, obey my will, and hand over two chocolate milkshakes for a pittance.

Last week came the most thrilling invitation yet...a summons to an exclusive mother/son, reservations only dinner.  What better gift to give my graduating senior than a night of bonding with mother before he is ripped away to make his lonely journey in academia.

 Of course, formal dress is required

A prime parking spot was reserved in our honor

We were greeted by a celebrity hostess 

(my son's classmate, who looked puzzled when I asked to take her picture)

 Nonspeaking cows were on hand

Flowers bloomed at every table

 We were starry eyed at the ambience

 We drew pictures of each other

He drew me with his eyes closed

It was night never to be forgotten.