Clearing Out the Blogwebs

image found here

I spent a lovely Thanksgiving week sweeping out the blogwebs from my brain.

In addition to this bit of cerebral housekeeping, I also...

Sold an old bed on Craigslist to a sweet old couple; the male half of the equation consisting of a quaint, small man who seemed to have appeared right out of middle earth (ala Frodo). My old twin bed will fit him like a California King.

Bought a new bed and sewed  pillows and curtains in a creative frenzy

 Welcomed home the tall boys from college

Played a goodly amount of Monopoly Deal

Ate ice cream after a bike ride through Indian Bend Park in Scottsdale

Discovered a new way to cut a tall boy's hair

Watched a great movie (on DVD), made from a great book

Enjoyed a lovely Thanksgiving dinner with family and ate a prodigious amount

...but not quite this much

Dawn Breaks at Midnight

Breaking Dawn is going to break before dawn at approximately midnight tonight. 

 

There will be giddy teenage girls and  women wearing t-shirts like these...

 professing their allegiance to either the hairy modified werewolf Jacob, or the sparkly modified vampire Edward.

I plan to protest outside my favorite theater wearing my protest t-shirt

 

You know Dobby don't you?  He's the noble house-elf from Harry Potter that bears a striking resemblance to Vladimir Putin. 

Let us compare and contrast the qualities of 

Jacob, Edward and Dobby

Team Jacob

Hairy

Good teeth

Protective

Good provider if you like rabbits

Gets the Native American casino discount

 

Team Edward

Sparkly

Bad teeth

Protective

Bad provider: never brings the venison home

Cool, marbleized skin surface very refreshing on a hot day

Team Dobby

Wrinkly

No teeth

Protective

Great provider: can fill the pantry with the flick of a wand

AND

Will sleep on the hearth, freeing up the guest room

No potential for making your husband jealous

Scares away burglars but kind to the dog

 Sorry Twilight, but my magical creature 

beats yours every day of the week

Lost in the Frost

image found here

Last week Republican presidential candidate Rick Perry suffered a prolonged bout of brain freeze during a nationally televised debate.  His gaffe came very close to being unseen because it was part of the 579th debate held by an exhausted Republican field watched only by an audience who had been promised a frozen turkey and one can of Del Monte creamed corn for tuning in.  But, due to one alert cameraman tanked up with a 44 oz. Dr. Pepper, the moment was recorded and is currently being replayed ad nauseum.  

Perry's brain freeze occurred when he tried to come up with a list of three government agencies he was going to cut. 

I hate to be blunt, but hey Rick...duh.

Any search for a list of more than two items through a dusty old-style rolodex type noggin covered with graying hair is never going to end well!

Larainy is sorry for getting technical, but would like to provide to you, dear reader, a scientific explanation of exactly what happened.

Perry's stress induced adrenaline caused crystals to begin forming in the cerebrum's left frontal lobe which spread through the limbic system, in turn icing the 300 million nerve fibers called the corpus callosum, which shut down the dendrites and turned the brain into this

image found here

 ...all in the space of 3 seconds. The drops of moisture on Perry's forehead were not sweat, but melting ice.  It was a classic and highly visible example of glacialis cerebrum or brain freeze.


The President of the United States should be someone inspiring, who makes me feel good about myself, and suddenly, Rick Perry is a very viable candidate.***


***Should not be considered an endorsement.  All major candidates have offered Larainy vast sums of money NOT to endorse them.

Come On Baby Light My Kindle

I spend a lot of time glued to my kindle and I'm always looking for a cheap book.  After all, if I got a classic like "Pride and Prejudice" for free, why should I pay 14 bucks for something by Nicholas Sparks, who can't write his way out of a soggy Victoria's Secret bag.

But... even Larainy's cheap nature has its limits.  I refuse to download the following titles, even if they are as free as 14 day old powdered sugar donuts at the dollar store.

Bunions: A Comprehensive History in Three Volumes

by Frank Corn

War and Peas: Vegetarian Activism

by Emmitt Badger

Deportment for Young Ladies

by Lindsay Lohan

The Secret Life of Beezus

by Ramona Quimby

The Cellulite Cookbook: 600 Recipes Featuring Cottage Cheese

So You Think You Can Dance...But You Can't

By the N.A.A.C.P

The Big Book of Bedbugs: Read, Squirm, Squash & Burn

Going the Distance: My Life During Third Grade

By Justin Bieber 

Fashion Crime in Moscow

Whenever I get smug thinking of myself as a very grounded person with a lack of vanity because I haven't resorted to turtlenecks to cover my wrinkly neck, a memory comes trickling back, up through the hourglass that has already dispersed the sands of time.  

That is when I remember Moscow and the crappy pants.   (I must apologize for my public use of the word "crappy" because my mother raised me better than this.  She also taught us all not to say the "f" word which of course is fart.   Sorry Mom.  I promise that I will never use the "f" word in a blog title.)


 



Two years ago we took a trip to Russia with my daughter and son-in-law, who had served there on his LDS mission.  





We arrived in Moscow early in the morning after twitching our way through the long night sleeping on the plane.  After a shower and a breakfast of the best yogurt on the planet, I donned the first of my carefully planned interchangeable outfits, a staple of which was an expensive pair of black ankle pants that I found on sale for practically nothing, which made them even more adorable.  They fit perfectly and I couldn't wait to wear them. 

We set out for the enormous  Izmailovsky outdoor flea market where you can purchase  matryoshka nesting dolls of anything from United States football teams to Russian czars, chess sets, enormous knives and WWII German helmets.      

I saw myself reflected in a mirror and thought to myself, "Wow, those pants don't look as good as I thought".  This is when I discovered the chilling truth.  My cute pants were 6000 miles away and I had packed my crappy pants, the crappy pants that were meant to go in the donation pile to be recycled and sold to fulfill the life long dream of some other woman who was willing, as I had been, to wear crappy pants.

The rest of my day in Moscow I was totally preoccupied with thoughts like these.
            

Hey you... old guy selling chess sets, don't look at these crappy pants!  

They are not reflective of American style!

Hey you...6' 6" beautiful Russian woman!  

Just because American tourists don't wear stilettos to the flea market 

doesn't mean they always wear crappy pants!

I mourned my egregious packing mistake during the entire two days we spent in Moscow, even after I changed out of the crappy pants

My vanity. Both crime and punishment

To Pin or Not to Pin: That is the Question

I signed up for

 because everyone was doing it.

Now I have bulletin boards full of nothing
but white space--mocking me,
taunting me with their vast dull vacuity.

 I am receiving emails notifying me

that people are following me

and the pressure is killing me.

 What can I pin?

Can I even recognize cute?

What if all my favorite quotes come from 
"The Big Bathroom Joke Book"?

Would anyone take a serious Larainy seriously?

The pressure is building

buildingbuildingbuilding

buildingbuildingbuildingbuilding
buildingbuildingbuildingbuildingbuilding

 Ahhhh, now that's pinteresting.

Halloween Safety Tips

Of course, I  am being totally insincere 
in wishing  you a "spooktaculous" Halloween

  because the only wish Larainy has for this 

 sugar soaked night of unbridled panhandling

is for you and your little darlings to be safe.   

Hence,

a cautionary list to protect you and your wee ones

  

1.  You may think that old tales of razor blades imbedded in apples are only urban legends, but don't be fooled by the modern incarnation called "apple with a handle"

 2.  Avoid the home that features year-round red and orange lights, skeletal Santas and a "Haunted Christmas theme"

image found here

3.   Don't be fooled when you see this innocent looking threesome.  You can identify the infamous "Peavler Gang" by their innocent smiles and Snicker flavored breath.  If let them get too close you will never see your hard earned candy again

4. Be aware that in Republican neighborhoods, you are more likely to get a long boring lecture about the flat tax before you get a KitKat


5. Be aware that in Democrat neighborhoods you are more likely to get a hunk of government cheese

6. I don't care how smokin' hot they make your calves look.  Don't try to trick or treat in these

7.  Don't drink Koolaid with this guy.  In fact, run when you see him because he will never be able to catch you














8.  Avoid all treats served in green tupperware labeled "meatloaf, April '09"


9. Do not accept any candy sealed in cat hair instead of plastic

10.  Recognize that anyone handing out Almond Joys is trying to impress the parents and probably needs a friend

Smart People Just Say No to Smarties

STOP RIGHT THERE!!!

The cheapskate in you is considering buying a 12 lb. bag of Smarties to feed the hungry Halloween hordes, but puh-leze, I'm begging here...

DON'T DO IT!!!

I am still traumatized by a childhood of trick-treating only

in my rural neighborhood of cousins and near cousins whose families were cash poor ranchers like mine.  I trudged through the cold night to homes sometimes as far as a half-mile apart only to harvest a disappointing haul of chalky Smarties and 

miniscule Dum Dums; 

both candies that I suspected were confiscated by thrifty aunts and uncles 

from their children's meager haul and recycled year after year.

Besides,  Smartie consumption 

is a gateway drug

to an addiction to baby aspirin.

 

 Which is a gateway drug to

 Necco wafers.

 

Which, when pulverized, 

look just like colorful cocaine

 

JUST SAY NO TO SMARTIES

 

For Whom The Cow Bell Tolls

Not to brag, but I have known the 

Mountain View Toro Marching Band cowbell ringer since she was born.  

Karen has been friends with my daughter, Corinn since diaper days, 

even though both are too proud to admit that they ever wore diapers.

Karen left, Corinn right

They share a lifelong proclivity for battered tennis shoes, 

 battered legs and a disdain of "fake babies" (dolls)

Karen has just finished a fabulous football season as cowbell ringer.  
She consented to an interview.

Me:  Karen, I know you have played a lot of music over the years, 10 years of piano, 2 on the clarinet, and 5 long years on the oboe.  How long have you been playing the cowbell?


Karen:  One glorius year.


Me:  This is a silly question, but what is your favorite instrument?


Karen:  Duh, the cowbell.


Me:  Is it true that the only reason you remained in marching band with its grueling early morning schedule was the cowbell?


Karen:  Yeah, and maybe the band trip to Hawaii was a small motivation.


Me:  What is your training regimen, is performing on the cowbell physically demanding?


Karen:  It is.  It takes a boatload of wrist strength and I do lots of squats to warm up before games.


Me:  How many hours of practice do you put in?


Karen:  Cowbell is strictly on the job.  Without the energy of the crowd going wild, there is really no point.


Me:  Has it changed your life?  


Karen:  Oh definitely.  My reputation has really grown.  I get a lot of respect on campus.  There is a senior I am in competition with for cowbell time, but the crowd likes me waaaay better.


Me:  How do you care for your cowbell?  Does it have a velvet lined case?  Is it returned to ol' Bossy between performances?


Karen:  Naaaa, I just throw it in the cabinet.  It's not even locked.

Me:  How far do you think the cowbell is going to take you?

Karen:  I've got the counselors searching for scholarships.  I'm going to ride the cowbell wave as far as it will take me.


Me:  I know that your mother, Carol, has required each of her children to play certain instruments.  Will you require your future children to play the cowbell.


Karen:  Of course.  Actually, when they see videos of my performances they're going to beg to play the cowbell.

Rockabye Mustache

Apparently our mustachioed darling

was way ahead of the curve

when she took this fashion risk in the 80's

Suddenly, infants throughout the fashionable world

are throwing away the razors and embracing

the decoration of upper lip

 Scooter knows looking a little older

is definitely going to help with getting that recording contract

His parents knew that Linford was special

from the moment he insisted that his formula

"be shaken, not stirred"

Born in Sicily, Vincenzo was controlling

the Garbanzo "Family" at the age of six months

Peter, unable to wash the innocent look off his face,

compensated with a hirsute look both debonair and colorful

Reynaldo liked to pretend he was deaf

to get relatives to lean in

and then "accidentally" spit up all over their faces

Jack Black was living the Nacho Libre lifestyle in preschool

because he knew it was his one way ticket out of  Peoria

Remember

 

A baby without a mustache

is like 

a treetop without a baby in a cradle falling out of it

Larainy

images found here