Laura La Rue’s blog

I really like both of the Freaky Friday films (yes, even Lohan's performance) and think it's a truly interesting concept. It can easily be applied to every day life and can conjure up amusing circumstances. Today, whilst walking in beautiful sunshine, I contemplated what might happen if a group of average men and women swapped bodies for twenty four hours.

Freaky Friday, 2003

Whilst I can tell you what I think the women might do, I think it's the men in womens bodies that would prove to be both amusing and intriguing! Firstly (and this is a cliche), I think they'd sit around for hours literally oggling their own bosoms, poking, prodding and generally checking themselves out. They would probably spend a fair amount of time naked before throwing on some old jeans and a stained t-shirt reserved by the girl for hair dyeing and DIY tasks.

If these men were to have a night on the town, you can be sure they'd let it all hang out. I'm thinking low cut tops (to make the most of having boobs), and barely there mini skirts. There's an amazing Chris Rock sketch when he discusses the differences between men and women (quite accurately). He acknowledges that whilst women get offers from men on a daily/hourly basis (and more often than not – turn them down) it becomes easy to turn down, however, as soon as men get offers (rare) they cannot say no because who knows when it will happen again!
   
    "Cause every woman in here, ever since you were … every guy you met has been trying to fuck you. That's right.     Women are offered dick every day. Every woman in here … gets offered dick at least three times a week."

On this basis, you can expect men in womens bodies to end up pulling (maybe even in a gay bar) as many people as possible in 24 hours. They would probably be astounded by the amount of offers. Also, men would take every single drink that was offered to them. If you tell a male friend about the amount of free drink or food offers you get from the opposite sex they will probably act disgusted and say that women use men to get stuff (only half true), but given half the chance they'd love it. Lets hope that they'd get themselves so drunk that as soon as midnight rolled around (and it was time to switch back) they'd be passed out in public and wake up as a man in drag. I should go in to script writing...

What do you tend to worry about in the middle of the night?

I want to say something really interesting, but it's usually work. If I wake up and I was drunk a few hours before my conscience berates me about stupid things I might have said or done. If this happens, there is like a video on repeat in my mind of me acting a fool. Not pretty at all.

In a few months my eldest brother is getting married. The whole thing is a bit of a joke because he's been with his fiancee for over ten years and they have two children (aged 8 and 5). It was blatantly an event orchestrated by her as I can't imagine he would have ever decided that marriage was a good idea (do men ever think that?).
He proposed to her on Valentines Day last year (pass me the bucket...) and it's been all they've talked about ever since. They think it's going to cost them my parent around £10,000 for one day to which they have invited 200 guests to a hotel near my hometown.

Yesterday, I had to attend a dress fitting to fulfill my role as bridesmaid. It was very kind of her to ask me and a lovely gesture as her own sister wasn't even included, but it's all become a bit of a farce. I tried on the frock, which is surprisingly classy, and was pinned from all angles to ensure it fits me perfectly for the big day. My eldest nephew was present at the fitting (I mean, where else do wannabe premiership footballers wanna hang out on a Saturday morning than a bridal shop?) and offered his priceless opinion to me, "I think the bow looks better on the back". It actually did, but quite what a young boy knows about wedding taste I'm not sure (he's not the maybe-gay nephew).

My Mother rushed in to share her opinion which usually involves criticising the colour palette, "Black seems like an unusual colour for August," but all agreed that the dress fit me fine and therefore I would no longer have to hang out in the bejewelled boutique. My Mother clearly wants a bigger part in the wedding planning. The bride doesn't have a Mother and mine is nervous to step in to the Mother of the bride shoes, but there are expectations.

The bride asks my Mother, "Are you going to wear a hat?" She shrugs off the question, "I don't think thats necessary to a wedding in a hotel, do you?" The bride looks slightly put out. "Lots of people get married in hotels you know, it's not that unusual. Laura, don't lots of celebs have civil services? Lots of them don't get married in churches do they?" I smile politely and avoid getting involved in any wedding speak. My Mother is not religious and is not interested in the location of the wedding at all, I think she just doesn't like hats. What's more, she has finally got her outfit together and this has honestly taken her a year. No. Joke.

"Oh I just wish his brother had more of a role in the wedding," Mother muses trying to move the conversation on. Heres a bit of background to the situation; my brothers are not at all close. They barely speak to each other except at Christmas when they might mutter, "Do you want a beer?" or, "What did you do last night?". They are only two years apart and have very different interests, lifestyles and live 100 miles apart.

Bride dismisses the complaint and the conversation is soon forgotten when my nephew starts demanding a sausage roll and/or ice-cream. Later on as we drive home Mother returns to her complaint. There is no warning, I think we're talking about the weather or lunch plans when she suddenly announces, "Don't you think it's bad that he hasn't given his brother a role in the wedding? He could just be an usher or something, SOMETHING." I shake my head, "Well, they've never been close..." "Yes but they're brothers, doesn't that mean anything anymore?"

I want to tell her that blood relations is just an unfortunate act of fate and not something which necessarily means you have to like someone, but my opinion is not valid in this conversation. She really just wants to speak at me. "I mean, we're the only family who's siblings don't get on." I don't know if she's speaking about all the families in the UK, the world, our extended family, or what but that's quite a statement. I decide she means family, "Well, H and A (cousins) don't get on, they practically hate each other," I offer trying to diffuse. Wrong answer. "Next door get on so well, so do L's boys (more cousins), and anyway it's traditional. Brothers are always best men or at least ushers".

I think of all the negative points about both of those families and consider listing them as a pros and cons list, but we've arrived at our destination and I can at last escape to reading The Guardian magazine... I cannot wait for this wedding palava to be over with.

I shall attempt to not make you sick with talk of travels to Tokyo but here are just a few photos to share with you. Firstly some Harajuku Girls. I actually found the whole situation a bit weird. i was initially excited to head to Yoyogi park on Sunday morning to check out some of the eclectic style on show, but it ends up being a bit pervy with a lot of tourists taking photos of terrified looking girls. I tried speaking to them to get their permission, but my Japanese was as lacking as their English.

We also checked out Omotesanda where there are some very funky looking shops. The Prada building was particularly impressive. I would recommend visiting this area if you're ever lucky enough to be in Tokyo, it was crazy busy but the whole city is.

Oh and of course I found some puppies to play with...

Cute dawg

Excuse the trainers. It was raining and I only packed sandals and a very stinky pair of ballet flats. Oh the shame... Look how happy the puppies in a basket are though!

Unfortunately, this is not a post dedicated to Hanson. As much as I would like to write a reminiscent post about those golden boys, my knowledge is pretty thin on the ground (leave to that CupCate) and I am more amused by a certain schoolmates Stars in their Eyes plans at the time. I digress...

Over the past few weeks I have grown increasingly enraged with the political situation in the UK. Leading up to the European elections there was a lot of "scandal" surrounding certain MPs and their expenses. Although members of all parties were exposed, the Labour party was particularly badly hit. Whilst I am not ever going to justify spending public money on porn films, duck houses or an unnecessary second home, I think that it's fair to say that most people take advantage of a situation at some point to their own gain. None the less, this was appalling behaviour and all involved deserved to be punished. The unfortunate factor in this case was that Rupert Murdoch was undoubtedly involved and clearly he is not a fan of Gordon Brown.

Many members of the cabinet stepped down and I cannot blame the general public for losing faith in a government which maybe hasn't shown itself in the best light recently. However, no matter how angry I ever feel towards this situation it would never lead me to vote in the way that so many did. I was deeply upset and concerned by the results which ended with a member of the BNP being voted in to represent us in Europe. Really? Is that really a representation of British people? Sure it was only in one region but come on people – where is the love?

This country is, lets face it, a country of mongrels. We were invaded many times over and the influence of other nations on our culture is undeniable. Whats more, thats one of the things I like so much about the UK. Whatever people say about the BNP, they are predominantly a racist organisation. There was a terrifying article in this weekend's Observer about Andrew Brons, the elected MEP and his history of racial hatred. I would love someone to take a DNA sample of this man and undoubtedly tell him about his mixed cultural past. I don't know that he has one, but nearly every person in the UK has links back to some other nationality, in fact, it has recently been proven that the human race began in Africa.

I can't, and will probably never, understand how anybody can determine anything about anybody by the colour of their skin, their accent or the country of birth stated on their passport. We're all people! We're all made up of the same things and sure there are cultural differences, but "if everybody looked the same – we'd get tired looking at each other". Learning about other countries, histories and traditions is interesting. Lets not be selfish here, none of us get to chose where we're born so lets be grateful that we live in a free country and try and share. Hate never really got anybody anywhere.

Same On The Inside

 

If I'm being super lazy or am short on time I update my tumblr blog with pictures (usually of animals in clothes) and quotes just incase you want a little more Laura LaRue in your life!

Sauscisson

Achoo

This week I have officially been ill. I don't like being ill. I know that sounds ridiculous, nobody likes being ill or enjoys drinking seemingly endless cups of Lemsip, but I am a really bad ill person. I usually use all twenty four hours of my day, well, not literally but I'm a busy bee and being ill puts everything on hold. I inevitably end up lying around thinking of 101 things I should be doing and making lists of things to catch up on.

This week I have used that ill time to catch up on a lot of (trash) TV. I like a lot of TV shows and my sky + box is packed with shows (more often than not on series link) which I am yet to watch. On top of that, there are countless programmes that I can view on iplayer/4od/itvplayer. The major problem I have discovered with this is that I am now addicted to more shows than I was before!

On my regular schedule are Gossip Girl, The Hills, The Inbetweeners, Hollyoaks, Mock the Week and Jonathan Ross. Yep see – trash tv! However, online I am also guilty of watching Eastenders, Live at the Apollo, Flight of the Conchords and David Letterman. Whilst being ill, I have updated my knowledge of Katie Price and Peter Andre's break up. Yep, that's right, I have been watching Katie and Peter Stateside!

Katie and her Princess

Anyway, this week I watched an episode when they had an argument about rhetorical questions. Obviously Katie doesn't know what a 'rhetorical question' is, Peter Andre accuses her of being a "thicko" and it's hard to disagree. However, this is undoubtedly a case of the blind leading the blind. In a bid to convince Katie that Peter isn't making up this word or it's meaning up he reaches for his laptop and the online dictionary, but this is where it all goes wrong for the hunky Cypriot.

Katie and Peter

I can't remember the exact details (and youtube only offers a blurred video, I cannot bear to watch the whole episode again), but I think he initially spells it 'retorical' which isn't the worst attempt at spelling I've ever seen. He then tries 'ritorical' to little success. Google eventually takes pity on him and offers a lifeline 'Did you mean rhetorical?'

Katie is forced to concede that Andre isn't making it up anymore but still fails to grasp the meaning of the word.
Jordan: "Is 'Peter massage my feet' a rito-ri-dal question?"
Peter: R-E-T-O-R-I-C-A-L and no, thats a command.
Jordan: The sky is blue, is that one?

It goes on and on in the same nature and she never gets it. She eventually gives up. And this woman has a range of books? I give up...

I bought a new dress from New Look. I say bought...I actually got a New Look press voucher and spent it on some fun new clothes. The dress is very summery but I thought I'd try layering it up to mixed success. I also tried clashing florals but I'll let you be the judge of that...

Floraldress

Floraldress2

Getting more and more excited about going to Paris (gotta look forward to something!). We're staying at Mama Shelter which looks uber cool with its imacs and Star Wars style lamps. Will be singing this for the rest of the day (from Funny Face).

I pretty much had the ideal Sunday evening eating (faux) sausage and mash and flicking through the Sunday papers. Whilst going through The Sunday Times magazine (I'm addicted to the Style mag but I buy the Observer for the news bit I promise!) I came across this amazing story that I had to share.

Monkeyclothes