Hello, Ducks!
Starzina
Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for SayerDee,
May 26, 2012. Happy birthday to
Dave who turns twenty-four today. Also,
happy birthday to Frank, who also turns twenty-four today. We would not, of course, ordinarily be
e-pisstlitizing in here on a SayerDee (or, if We were, We’d be intro-ing one of
Our Very Special Video Retrospective E-pissodes), but something monumentally
cataclysmic has transpired, and We felt compelled to come and Cher.
There
is a pimple on Our buttock.
Not
just ANY pimple, mind you. (Not just ANY
buttock, either…Our LEFT buttock.) This
is a pimple of such staggering proportions as to leave all other pretender-to-the-game-of-thrones
pimples in the dust by comparison. This
pimple on Our left buttock is so monumentally ginormous that it could actually
be an auxiliary buttock all its own.
Which would, it would seem, give Us three buttocks, causing Us, no doubt,
to list to one side, and making Us, essentially, Fred MacMurray in My Three Buttocks, with William Demarest as Uncle Charlie, and
what was up with all those old TV shows where random men just lived together
without a woman anywhere to be found, and how sad is it that We knew William
Demarest’s name without having to look it up?
But
back to Our pimple, which makes even the preceding paragraph look small by
comparison. If Our left buttock were
(subjunctively) Mount Rushmore, this pimple would be Chester A. Arthur. Who is not, of course, actually ON Mount Rushmore,
but We’re fairly sure he was the really fat President, unless that was William
Howard Taft, but We can’t be bothered to look it up. (We did, however, just look up William
Demarest, and We learned that, if he were (subjunctively) still alive, he would
be a hundred and twenty years old. THERE’S
a brain cell We’ll never get back.) Our
point being that they would need the fattest President they could find to
represent this pimple if Our left buttock were (subjunctively) Mount Rushmore.
All
this talk of Our left buttock is, as you would assume, making Us think of the
Daniel Day-Lewis fillum, My Left Foot, in
which Mister Day-Lewis portrays some real-life character with a crippling
disease so very crippling that he can only control his left foot, so he takes
up painting. Instead of, you know,
something useful, like feeding himself, or wiping his ass, or having a
wank. This, of course, makes him famous,
and his life gets made into a movie with Daniel Day-Lewis in it. Daniel Day-Lewis wins an Oscar™, presumably
to the sound of crippled painter guy’s one foot clapping.
Now,
We are not suggesting that Our left buttock could hold a candle to Daniel Day-Lewis’s
left foot. (Actually, We’re fairly
certain that Our left buttock couldn’t hold a candle at all, whereas Daniel
Day-Lewis’s left foot no doubt could.
(It also strikes Us, just now, parenthetically, that Mister Day-Lewis’s
character in that fillum must have been really bad at the Hokey-Pokey.)) We ARE, however, saying that, if you hold a
canvas back there when this pimple finally pops, We will SHOW you a painting.
All
together now: eeeeuuuuwwwww!!!!!
Radically
changing the subject, completely sans segue:
By
popular demand, the WaitStaff will be playing The Match Game again on
Thursday, June 7 and Friday, June 8, at 7:30 at L’Etage at 6th &
Bainbridge. Did We mention that, the
first time We played, a number of people came back for more than one
performance? Well, We did now. Reservations are strongly suggested, and can
be obtained here: http://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/250950 Find more info on Our SitOnMyFaceBook event
here: http://www.facebook.com/events/429387893745900/ Be there or be square.
In still
other other news, We have moved into Gemini.
Here is a fillum for you to resoundingly ignore: http://youtu.be/YBwdacfn2Vk
, much the way you resoundingly ignore these horoscopes, and Us Our Own Self
Personally.
Meanwhile,
all this pimple drama, AND it’s Helena Bonham Carter’s birthday? Who could ask
for anything more?
Here’s
the HorrorScope:
Your
sense of adventure is fully engaged (So they liked it, and they must’ve put a
ring on it.)
(Because
We’re attuned to pop culture like that.)
—
so run with it! (We done tole you an’ tole you, We only run if someone is
chasing Us with a knife.)
All
that energy has to be good for something, (Well, We certainly can’t sit still,
what with only one unencumbered buttock and all.)
so
make sure that you’ve got plans that will take you to crazy new places. (Speaking of crazy places, Mount Rushmore is
in some Dakota, no? North? South?
Fanning? And who thought up Mount
Rushmore, anyway? (We just Googled Mount
Rushmore on Wikipedia. It is both more
and less interesting than you would imagine.))
Some
people are simply more creative than others, (Aren’t We though?)
so
don’t feel bad if you come up with the best ideas and input today. (Do they
give out Pulitzers in Bloggonia? Because
anybody that nakedly skimmed today truly missed out. We’re just sayin’.)
Be
proud of the fact that you are contributing fresh suggestions and clever
innovations that no one else could come up with! (Well, no one else who doesn’t have a
mountainous pimple on their left buttock.)
If
you let peer pressure or your insecurities prevent you from expressing your
ideas, (Have you met Us?)
you’ll
be missing out on some acclaim that you richly deserve. (Never mind acclaim,
where’s a damn dollar?)
Your
creativity is a skill that can open doors, so use it! (Why is a skillet not a small skill? And where does skillset fit in? Inquiring minds want to know.)
If
you find yourself crying through a cereal commercial or laughing during ‘The
Champ,’ you’re right on track. (WTF is ‘The Champ’? (Hmmm…and here, We thought We had seen the
entire Ricky Schroder oeuvre. SO sorry
to have given THAT a miss.))
Nothing,
least of all your emotions, makes sense today. (Don’t HOLLER at Us! We have a pimple on Our buttock!)
So
if you’re heading to the movies, bring someone along who gets you. (Okay, so who wants to go see the new Ricky
Schroder fillum? Oh, wait…)
(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!)
*****************************************************************************
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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