Monday, January 30, 2012

Pumping Iron

Back in the early 80's when I used to look like this
I stayed for a time with my sweet grandma Gerda in the Mesa house she lived in during the winter months.  It was a fun time in my life, working full time at a job I loved, taking a few college classes and dating, especially this guy.  I have always had an attraction to men who are equipped with a pen in their pocket.

Grandma's neighborhood was full of other grandmas, great grandmas and a few great greats.  Next door lived Cora who was as thin as the singular crutch she used to get around.  I loved chatting with Cora.  She had a sardonic wit under soft white curls.  She spoke with an Arizona drawl as she told me her strategy to deal with burglars.  "You see, I keep ma iron right ta the side of my bed.  When I hear a burglar I'll plug it in right quick.  Then I'll pretend I'm asleep and when he gets close I'll whack him right upside the head!"

I have made a lot of fun of Cora and her self defense strategy over the years, but last week she must have been chortling in heaven as she saw me read this article in the Arizona Republic.

Phoenix resident kills intruder with clothes iron

A suspected burglar was killed early Friday morning after breaking into a Phoenix apartment when the tenant inside hit him in the head with a clothes iron.

Moses Taylor, 20, broke into a window of an apartment in the 2500 block of West Ocotillo Road about 2:53 a.m. Friday morning and woke up a 29-year-old man inside, Phoenix Police Department spokesman Sgt. Tommy Thompson said.
 
During a struggle, the resident struck Taylor in the head with a clothes iron. Taylor was taken to the hospital but died of his injuries on arrival. Police believe Taylor, who was only wearing a shirt and boxers at the time of the attempted burglary, may have been under the influence of drugs and alcohol, Thompson said. Police are investigating the incident as a homicide but believe the apartment resident was acting in self-defense, Thompson said.

 I think its time for Larainy to develop a new self defense system...I'm going to call it  
Tae Kwon Cora:  With or Without Steam

 

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Canal/Antartica: Two Treks

 This morning I listened to an interview with Felicity Aston while I was walking briskly up and down the canal near my home.  






It is uncanny how much Felicity and I are alike.  We are practically identical twins in our hardy quest for rigorous challenge and adventure.

Felicity Aston just completed a 1,084 mile, 59 day skiing trek across the whole of Antartica, pulling two sledges full of supplies behind her.

I just completed a 2.5 mile walk from my front door, down the canal and safely back again pulling my booty behind me.

Felicity got emotional when she saw the coastal mountains that meant she was at the end of her journey

I got emotional when I saw that I was about to miss the garbageman as I neared my front door

Aston, skilled in physics and meteorology, used GPS to keep on course

Larainy, with fine motor skills developed through sad experience, kept on course by not falling into the canal, but walking along side it


Felicity had to fight near-constant headwinds across the vast central plateau to the South-Pole


I had to fight a breeze and several dog walkers, also a nasty whiff of hot asphalt on Adobe Street.


After 2 months of freeze dried food, Aston looks forward to a nice chicken pot pie made by her mother


After an hour of vigorous walking I look forward to a slice of sharp white cheddar on a cracker because I haven't liked chicken pot pie since a dangerous Swanson overdose during my freshmen year of college.


I may just be whistling Dixie, but I think there is a fine potential for a book/movie deal for us twins.


 photos and adventure found here

Monday, January 23, 2012

Going Viral

The good news is that this weekend I got a jumpstart on my ever present weight loss goals.

The bad news is that I counted the calorie loss while hanging over the toilet bowl.

The good news is that I don't have bulimia

The bad news is that I have something shareable.

The good news is that I'm going to quit giving you good and bad news.

As I lay groaning in my king size bed of self pity (having kicked my husband out for his own protection) I tried to watch television to distract me.  

Do you have any idea how many commercials include mayonnaise? 

In case you have accidentally been drinking from my straw, and catch my horrible case of
Amoebic Appetitus Perhorridus

here is my survival guide to weathering a stomach storm.

  • Being sick in the daytime is a waste.  Taking advantage of the dramatic hours of darkness adds pathos and sympathy from loved ones and eliminates annoying interrupting calls from telemarketers while you are fondling your toilet bowl
  • Controlling your thoughts goes a long way toward controlling the roiling stomach.  DO NOT think of 
Russell Brand
Joe Cocker
Or Newt Gingrich eating Cheetos



Instead, try to picture in your mind's eye...




either freshly fallen snow or a really clean unicorn.  Sorry but there are really limited good choices of things to think about when you want to hurl.





The next thing to do is to look yourself in the mirror, in all your wan and rumpled splendor,  and like Scarlett O'Hara,  clench your fist and say through clenched teeth
"As God is my witness, I'll never be hungry again."

Then go back to bed and try not to think about cheese curds.

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

What is in the Royal Handbag?

I have been a bit obsessed with jolly old England as of late, and you can blame it on Downton Abbey .  This has lead to an alarming preoccupation with Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth and a burning curiosity about what she is packing around in those hefty handbags.  (If I were her royalness, I would demand a subordinate to haul around my breath mints and wadded kleenex.)   

As you know, protocol prevents a commoner such as myself from asking the Queen a direct question, but dear reader, once again, Larainy's crack investigative team has stealthily gathered information piece by piece and compiled a comprehensive report on the mysterious contents of the royal receptacle.

 Young Liz got into the handbag habit at a young age,
stuffing it with chocolate biscuits to nibble on during
interminable boring lectures from Father/King George on the subject of 
"how not to turn out like skanky Aunt Wallis Simpson"


 On this occasion, the Queenly purse contained an Ipod nano with an unobstrusive wire snaking up the royal white sleeve  connecting to an earbud obscured by a fashionable chapeau.  Listening to Sir Elton John's "Rocketman" was far more enjoyable than the annoying rat a tat of amateur drummers


 The only way Elizabeth got through an interminable visit with France's la di da first lady 
was to carry a miniature chess board in her handbag, whip it out, 
challenge Carla Bruni to a match and humiliate her in four moves


 

 Nothing cheers up a grandma like tucking in a lovely photo of her grandsons when they were adorable little tykes


 ...unless it's the 8x10 autographed and laminated glossy of Mr. Beckham 
that she carries in a special crush proof compartment


 If his Holiness can wear sassy red shoes, then certainly the Queen is allowed to carry her beloved Corgi in a pooch proof patent leather handbag during a visit to the Vatican



 
 Nothing tastes better after a road trip in the royal Jaguar  than a surreptitious sip of blue raspberry slurpee from a white handbag


Here, a fellow royal catches the faint whiff of roasted game hen that thrifty Queen Elizabeth slipped into her silver doggy bag after a gargantuan state dinner

The Queen learned many years ago that nothing amuses British children more than activating the fart machine concealed in a royal handbag with the remote concealed in a royal glove. Seeing the cheerful giggles that accompany each "Brrrruuuump" as she bends over to say hello is worth the loss of royal dignity.

 But the absolute favorite item that the Queen totes around in the ever present dangling appendage is a lace handkerchief soaked in her royal consort Philip's favorite scent

Circus Fantasy, by Britney Spears

Monday, January 16, 2012

Roll Out the Red Carpet

There is a special 5 hour festival of fashion and congratulations held every year to honor Martin Luther King and give starlets a chance to wear sparkly gowns honoring their golden globes. 
This year's event was hosted by a funny man with crooked English teeth, and while I can't comment on his funniness because Downton Abby trumps the GGA's, I can tell you that these awards are given by something called "The Foreign Press Assocation."  A little investigational digging has lead me to discover what the FPA is all about.


The sole member of the "Foreign Press Association" is a 9-year-old kid named Ghalib who writes press releases on a MAC out of his parents basement.  He tivos the last half of the big night because he has to be in bed by 9:00.

This year, Ghalib requested each actor to wear an outfit as a tribute to something/someone

 Emma Stone wore shoulder pads in solidarity with her little brother Everett 
who is playing Pop Warner football this year.

 Reese Witherspoon left her dress unhemmed, in honor of "those unsung heroes who alter clothes".  The scarlet starlet wiped out three times tripping over her excess dress material and is resting today with an icepack.
 Busy Phillips choked up as she dedicated her hair to her sister Wanda, who recently passed away but left her a "bump it"


The hirsute gentleman to the rear of Clive Owen dedicated his ensemble to "the sixties man...to the sixties."

 Tilda Swinton blew a kiss to her twin brother, David Bowie

 Pied Piper Perabo snuck in several homeless children under her voluminous gown 
as a general protest against the Republican party

 Juliana Margulies wore a sleek protest gown comprised of thousands of miniscule halibut scales painstakingly glued to a lightweight silk jersey by Alaskan fisherman who are out of work because of irresponsible oil spills caused by Mitt Romney

Sarah Michelle Gellar commissioned her daughter's Montesorri preschool group to tie dye the fabric for this voluminous gown constructed by the Jr. High sewing class as a reminder to "Sew as You Grow"



 Angelina wore a valentine tribute for Brad but his embarrassing response was to bring the cane he uses to poke his wife under the table when she is over her 123 calorie per day allowance.

 

Nobody does tributes like Hollywood

photos found here
 

Friday, January 6, 2012

Downton Abbey is Spiffing Brilliant!

I've been so nervous anticipating the second installment of Downton Abbey that it has nearly put me off my feed  Oh no!  Now I've gone and done it again, throwing out a horribly vulgar American farm expression, when I have been eating crumpets and trying mightily to be worthy to watch the upper crustian Lord and Lady and the lower crustian servants in this marvelous story.

Here's a run down to bring you up to speed


Lord Robert Crawley has only one job, which is to keep the huge pile of rocks that is his boyhood home from becoming Stonehenge.  This is a difficult job due to constant interruptions to open tiny little letters delivered on a silver tray by his formidable butler, Mr. Carson






Mr. Carson may look like he wants to tear out your cholesterol-clogged American heart, but he is really as gentle as clotted cream




 
Lady Cora Crawley was initially married for her revoltingly modern and obscenely large American fortune but her titled husband grew to love her in spite of her grating non-English accent

Lady Sybil, Lady Mary and Lady Edith are the three feminine progeny of their poor male-inheritorless father.  Mary is the oldest and as mean as a rattlesnake, while Edith is as mean as a slightly homely cobra.  Sybil is as harmless as a garter snake except that she likes to sneak around with the chauffeur to political rallies and once wore harem pants to dinner.


Violet, the oldest Crawley is so condescendingly English that she will make you want to give the United States back to Queen Elizabeth with a note of apology.

The staff, which works 15 hours, 364 1/2 days per year, unless their mother dies--is totally devoted to the Crawley family with the exception of O'Brien and Thomas, who have been known to soap the floor causing the miscarriage of a long awaited male heir and raid the wine cellar, respectively.




Tune in to PBS on Sunday to find out if World War I 
causes a starch shortage and resultant fainting spells.

 I can hardly wait!



Tuesday, January 3, 2012

Resolution Dissolution






The tree is gone and I missed plugging in the lights this morning.  I am always the first one up and lighting up the Christmas tree always makes me feel like Thomas Edison.








The holidays were chock full of family, because we reunioned together in California...the first time we have been all together in ages, and the last time we will be able to for a few years.















So, now it's on to resolutions. 

I have become painfully aware of a deficiency in my character that I have been blind to for many years.  This is something I'm not proud of and only share with you, dear readers, because you have shown yourself to be a kind and nonjudgmental sort.

Here goes.

If, by chance, you happened by for a visit to my home and were obliged to use the "facilities", you would, at some point in performing your ablutions, have reached for the toilet paper roll only to find it, ahem, starkly unadorned.
May I take this opportunity to apologize for my insensitive behavior.  I know I must have offended many a delicate sensibility with the sight of this undisguised utilitarian cleansing tool.


But...the year is new and I have the will to better myself.  I hereby resolve to cover each roll and protect family and friends alike from the unpleasantness of a brashly nude roll of toilet paper.

Options include:
The cupcake; for when your bum is craving something sweet

The scary baby with scissors; for when you want to caution your guests against profligate overuse of the roll


    
 

The saucy doll head;
for when your snoopy guests just have to find out what is under that blue hair
The sushi roll, roll cover; for when your body feels the need to replenish and release simultaneously

And for heavens sake, if you can't cover it up, at least do a little folding.



 Here's to resolutions
we can keep!