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Tuesday, February 28, 2012

I love you a bushel and a peck

(We just dropped back in to edit this, because, upon publishing it, it was the first We had seen the pixture of Ms. Newmar and Mr. Ward juxtaposed with the pixture of Us Our Own Self with Master Bieber, and We were struck by the parallels (which is better, presumably, than being struck by the parallel bars.)

(That is all.  Carry on.)
Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for ToothDaySoothSayersThayingTheSooth, February 28, 2012.  Were it not (subjunctively) Leap Year, We would be able, upon completion of today’s festivities, to stick a Feckin’ Fork in February and proclaim it Finished.  What sadist was it who, upon figgering that an extra day was needed every four years to keep Uranus out of the whorehouse, decided to put said day at the end of the most horrifying month of the year?  (February edges out the equally dreadful January as the most horrifying month of the year because February has VD in the middle, whereas January has Martin Luther King Day, so at least there are presents.)

(Note to Self:  Neologism (heh…We said “gism”) of the Day: “whoreifying”.)

Actually, that question (“what sadist was it…?”…try to keep up) was rhetorical, as We are about to out-wiki Wikipedia by telling all y’all…

How We Got Our Current Calendar

(But first, may We just say, kudos to Micro$oft Weird™ for recognizing “out-wiki” as a word.)

Once upon a time, the world was run according to the Julian calendar, which was based, as most things were back in the day, on Julie Newmar’s menstrual cycle.  Unfortunately for people in those unenlightened times, Julie Newmar’s menstrual cycle was not exactly the poster child for regularity (said poster child being, of course, Fatty Arbuckle’s bowel movements), so it would sometimes be Thursday for several weeks running, and once, October was skipped altogether.  (This historic period (heh) was later documented in the film To Wong Foo, Thanks For Nothing, Julie Newmar. ) Finally, after a particularly grueling three-week-long Monday that showed no signs of abating (and involved a notably bizarre asymmetric water-weight gain), Gregory Peck got fed up and invented the Gregorian calendar (and Gregorian chanting, but that’s a story for another e-pissode), in which units of time were correlated to the length of (you guessed it) his pecker (perverts), which conveniently never varied, Gregory Peck having been the only man in recorded history whose penis was the exact same size both erect and flaccid, and who, therefore, lent his name to its nickname, “pecker”.  Julie Newmar, who by this time was appearing on the TV series Batman, but who had long since ceased having a menstrual cycle (although she did once, under the influence of LSD, appear in a minstrel show), invoked a little known clause in her contract (and blackmailed Cesar Romero and Frank Gorshin with some rather licentious photos involving Burt Ward’s (you guessed it) pecker) to force the Screen Actors’ Guild to invent Leap Year.

And that, boyzzz and gurrrlllzzz, is How We Got Our Current Calendar.  You’re welcome.

(Hey, it was a choice between that story, or a rousing game of Who Do We Hate On The WorldWideINterWebNetz Today?, and trust Us, that game could have taken all day.)

Here is the link that you will persist in not using to share Our Starzina’s Time of the Month: Pisces video with your friends: That would be the self-same link that, to the best of Our knowledge, no one has EVER used on one of their friends’ SitOnMyFaceBook pages to wish said friend a happy birthday.  Speaking of peckers, meanwhile, did We mention that Justin Bieber’s pecker appears in the video?


And now, Charlene Tilton is grateful that she didn’t appear anywhere in the preceding story.  (You pecker, you brought her.)

Alternatively, the HorrorScope:


Your core values are shaken up a little bit today, (Well, as long as they’re not stirred.  (The name is Blonde.  James Blonde.))


 thanks to a confrontation with reality. (One of these days, We shall confront reality, and We shall WIN!)


See if you can get your people to help you make sense of it (Yo, people!  Hop to it! (Clearly, this is one of those moments when We wish We had ever learned to put Our fingers in Our mouth and whistle. Unfortunately, all We ever learned was to put Our fingers in OTHER people’s mouths and blow.))


(Our cunning linguistics…let Us show them to you.  (Our str8 boi readers love it when We say we are a cunning linguist…We have no idea why.  Perhaps We should take a poll. (Alternatively, We could take a pole.  (We could probably take two at once.  And We’re not busy this evening.))))


(At least one Irish boi reader is now blushing.  Is that a shillelagh in your pocket, or are you just happy We know how to spell it?)


— things should start to get better pretty quickly.  (Who are you trying to kid?  It’s obvious things are going from bad to perverse.)


(SUCH cunning linguistics, We’re practically speaking in tongues.  But We are a highly-trained professional…do not attempt this at home.)


 A message will come your way today (Will it be in a bottle?)


that creates more confusion in your life. (Meanwhile, Julie Newmar just started having periods again. Talk about confusion.)


In part, it’s because there will be no details included (Just a Maxi-Pad™ that could absorb Lake Superior.  (Note to Self:  Figger out “Lake Mother Superior” joke.))


— just cryptic words or images that are supposed to signify something to you, but don’t. (Isn’t THAT just the story of Our life?)


Before you ask what was intended, sit with this message for a while. (Alternatively, sit on Gregory’s pecker.)

If you concentrate on it long enough, and determine what episode from your past it reminds you of, (That would be The One Where Ross and Rachel Take A Break.)


(POP! Goes the culture!)


you will probably discover its meaning before the end of the day.  (A day without sunshine is like…night.)


 When you’re all fired up, it’s hard to tell whether there’s a real mutual spark. (That is not so much a mixed metaphor as a metaphor put in a Waring™ blender with the puree button on, then fed to an epileptic lemur with diarrhea who poops it into a tsunami.)


(We? Are a painter of word pixtures.  A veritable Grandma Moses of the keyboard.  (Shaddup.))


Toning it down allows you to assess a romantic situation more accurately.  (“Toning it down”?!?  Have you met Us?)


Chill out and see what happens.  (With Our luck, We shall poop water ice.)


(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:  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!)
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.