Hello, Ducks!
Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for TootsiePop, January 24, 2012. Probably not many of you are up and reading this today, as you probably have the day off from work. It being Ernest Borgnine’s ninety-fifth birthday, and all. We Our Own Self Personally will be whipping (ooooh!) through today’s e-pistle at breakneck speed so We can get a cake into the oven. (Which sounds for all the world like a euphemism, but isn’t. (Meretricious prevarication, yes; euphemism, no.)) One can only imagine the preparations underway at Charlene Tilton’s house…
Naturally, being An Inquiring Mind Who Wants To know (no, really; Who wants to know?), We just felt compelled to Six-Degrees-Of-Kevin-Bacon Mister Borgnine and Ms. Tilton. Turns out, they each have a Bacon number of TWO. (You have a Bacon Number of TWO if you’ve been in a movie with someone who’s been in a movie with Kevin Bacon. (You have a Bacon Number of ONE if you’ve been in a movie with Kevin Bacon your own self. (You have a Bacon Number of ZERO if you actually ARE Kevin Bacon. Most people do not have Bacon Numbers of ZERO.)))
They also each have a reference number of TWO with regard to each other; that is, they have been in a movie with someone who has been in a movie with the other one, but have never been in the same movie together. (Many of you are no doubt mentally reviewing Ms. Tilton’s oeuvre, attempting to imagine her in a movie with ANYONE. Apparently, you have never seen Problem Child 2.)
So, aspiring Hollywood screenwriters, the clock is ticking (SERIOUSLY ticking, in Mister Borgnine’s case)…this year’s Oscar™ nominees having just been announced, let’s see who can get a cinematic project to the big screen in time for next year’s awards, starring Ernest Borgnine and Charlene Tilton. With Adam Sandler as The Beaver.
Speaking of Oscars™, share Our fillum with your friends:
(How was THAT for a goddamn segue?)
Also check out the other videos: http://www.youtube.com/user/RickinPhilly?feature=mhee
Meanwhile, We’ve got to be e-pistling along…Ernest Borgnine’s cake isn’t going to bake itself. (That sounded like a euphemism too. We think We’re gonna be sick.) Heeeeere’s the HorrorScope:
Your goals are lofty — but that doesn’t mean they’re out of reach! (Well, they are if they’re in the loft. Because We don’t have a loft. Duh.)
If anything, you may find yourself quite a bit closer to them by the end of the day, if your mental energy has any say! (Yay, hooray! Nanette Fabray! (Kelli is apparently a poet, but she is unaware of it.))
It always pays to plan ahead — an upcoming journey or event will be much more enjoyable if you take a little bit of time to make sure you know where you’re going, how you’re going to get there, and what you’ll do once you arrive. (Party pooper. (Where does that expression come from, anyway? Do people actually go to parties and poop? Did that used to be a thing, like back before wife-swapping and beer pong? (The WorldWideInterWebNetz are not helping Us sort this conundrum, although they have informed Us that the first recorded use of the phrase was in 1954. It was the Eisenhower administration, college students were swallowing goldfish and cramming themselves into phone booths…One can well imagine that taking a poop in the middle of a party was all the rage.)))
It will be fun figuring out the logistics of this outing, and after a few minutes online you’ll discover a neat option that you had never considered before. (Did she say “neat”? What’s next, “keen”? “Swell”? “Ginchy”?)
If you are traveling with someone else, contact them as soon as you can to share your findings. (If We were (subjunctively) travelling with someone else, wouldn’t they be right with Us? What the fuck are you talking abou, Kelli?)
It’s easy to forget what a unique individual you are. (We are unique, just like everybody else.)
Life tends to pound you into nameless, faceless submission, but it’s time to exert your freedom and independence. (That’s it…We’re gonna go poop in the middle of a party.)
Do at least one thing that defines your personality. (Hmmm…perhaps We shall poop Our name in the snow.)
If it’s a piece of flair, flaunt it proudly. (If it’s a piece of poop, fling it poopily.)
(Your Your-O-Scopes:
(Meanwhile, why We didn’t think of this sooner, We’ve got no idea, but better laid than necking, as they say (and how right they are!). For real live actual ass(tromlaogical) ho(roscopular) advice, please visit Our good friend AstroGeek here: http://agskylab.blogspot.com/. Our Own epistular musings are of use to you only insofar as making you feel better by comparison, but he will give you actual pertinent advice for your very own lives, based on upon the positions and transitations of all manner of planets, planetoids, asteroids, Altoids™, hemorrhoids, and other heavenly flotsam, jetsam, and Jetsons. Plus, he knows all about Uranus!)
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Starzina Starfish-Browne was born in the wagon of a traveling show…well, okay, not really. She was actually born in Lowake, Texas, the daughter of a beautician and either a garage mechanic or the town mailman. At sixteen, she escaped her humble beginnings by running off with Doctor Browne’s Traveling Medicine Show and, more to the point, Doctor Browne. Following the dissolution of this unfortunate entanglement (Doctor Browne was a Virgo and Starzina is, of course, an Aries), which produced a daughter, Starzina entered a contest in Soap Opera Digest and won a scholarship to Oxford (yes, in ENGLAND), where she earned her doctorate in the newly-created dual major of Astrology and Human Sexuality. There is absolutely NO TRUTH to the rumor that Starzina’s second daughter has Royal blood, despite tabloid photographs allegedly depicting her cavorting on the Italian Riviera with Princes William and Harry, clad only in Prussian helmets and armbands of questionable taste. Starzina currently resides with her daughters in Philadelphia, the City That Loves You (On Your) Back, where she enjoys Double Coupon Day at the local SuperCruise and “encouraging” the coxswain of the Penn rowing team.
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