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Tuesday, May 8, 2012

Thank you for being a friend

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for ToozDee, May 8, 2012.  We don’t know about you, but We are still prostrate on Our fainting couch, clutching Our smelling salts to Our pneumatic bosom, as We attempt to recover from yesterday’s Vagina Monologues e-pissode.  What the hell happened in here, anyway?  Sure, We got Our str8 boi readers all hot and bothered, but did any of ‘em show up on Our doorstep, loaded blunderbuss in hand, asking which way to the skeet shoot?

(We have no earthly idea what We’re talking about, but the answer to the preceding question is “No”.)

(“Skeet shoot”???)

(Meanwhile, how many str8 boi readers (does it take to screw (heh) in a light bulb?  No.)…how many str8 boi readers are now wondering if a pneumatic bosom works like a pneumatic drill?)

Alrighty, then.  We can apparently cross “Victorian novelist” off of Our list of potential sources of pecuniary remuneration.  And, as We are busily procrastinating, and yet, not the least bit interested in sharing what We’re procrastinating about, it’s time for a whole new feature here on The Mouseketeer Club…er, Erix Daily Horoscope:  Anything Can Happen To Celebrities Day!!!

(Speaking of The Mouseketeer Club, to ensure that Our str8 boi readers continue to love Us, albeit from afar (did We just say “albeit”?  Perhaps We should reconsider that Victorian novelist gig…), Annette Funicello’s pneumatic bosom.  You’re welcome.)

(Never you mind that Annette Funicello will be seventy this year.  That’s only thirty-five per bosom.  Perverts.)

This first bit has nothing whatever to do with celebrities, but We just saw it on the WorldWideInterWebNetz and it tickled Us, and We make the rules around here:  Clown shoes are very big, and clown cars are very small- get it together, clowns!

On a celebrity-related note, We may or may not have mentioned We have joined The Twitter.  Because We’re hep to the jive like that.  We have no idea why regular people would be on The Twitter, but it apparently gives celebrities a chance to prove that they are just as idiotic as everyone else.  Just this morning, Cher (surely it comes as no surprise to you that We follow Cher on The Twitter?)  made some sort of liberal Democrat observation .  Apparently, there was some Republitard out there who was SO stupid (how stupid was he?) that he did not realize that Cher (whom he also was following on The Twitter) was a liberal Democrat, and he felt compelled to call her out on her “stupidity”  (which he, naturally, being a Republitard, referred to as “Communism”).  Unfortunately, Cher engaged this douchebag, and the whole thing quickly degenerated, to the point where the Republitard was mocking Cher for misspelling a word, saying, and We quote, “botox has gone 2 ur brain”.  Whereupon Cher put an end to the entire discussion thusly:  “I’m dyslexic, asshole! Just think!  If I could spell, I could have been successful!”

Meanwhile, We are lifting the following anecdote verbatim, as the clock is ticking here at OurHouseWhereWeLive (and presumably at YourHouseWhereYouLive, also, but since when is it all about YOU?):

 Apparently, Rufus Wainwright has told this story for years, but this is the first time I've heard it and it's never too late to hear one of the reasons for whyBea Arthur will forever be our Patron Saint of Bitchiness. During a time in Rufus' life when he was trapped in a black cloud of loneliness, the only thing that gave him life was watching episodes of The Golden Girls. Just like every good gay, Rufus considers Rue, Estelle, Bea and Betty his four apostles. So many years later, Rufus saw Bea at a party and had to thank her for being a friend. Sometimes when you meet one of your idols, you walk away with the taste of disappointment in your mouth, but that didn't happen to Rufus. Rufus walked away with the feeling of knowing what it's like to be slapped down by a GOD! This is how Rufus' moment with Bea went:
Rufus: "I'm sorry to bother you, and I'm sure you hear this all the time, but I was going through a rough patch and Golden Girls brought me so much entertainment and comfort. It really helped me get through the bad spell.You're so wonderful. You made me feel like you're my grandmother."
Bea: *gently leans into his ear* "I'm not your fucking grandmother." *throws scarf over shoulder, arches back and exits stage left*
Getting bitched out by Bea Arthur is like Jesus himself putting his hand on your forehead to rebuke the evil spirits out of you. How Rufus survived that is beyond me. If Bea Arthur put the word "motherfucker" in my ear, I would've called the tombstone store and told them to etch "Bitch Died Happy" into my peen-shaped headstone before falling on the floor to die. You've unlocked every achievement and won the game of life when Bea Arthur curses you out.
And thus endeth Anything Can Happen To Celebrities Day!

On another subject, here is a link to Starzina’s Time of the Month Horoscope: Taurus: which you can use to share it with your very own personal friends who are currently birthdaying.  Not, of course, that anyone has ever actually done this, but We live in hope.

And here, because its brilliance cannot be overstated, is Our new motto:  Uranus is Our Rosebud.

And now, the HorrorScope:

You may step on someone’s toes — not that that is your intention!  (Of course not!  We were trying to step on his balls, but he wouldn’t hold still.)

It just happens sometimes, (Usually to Us.)

and it’s hard to say who’s to blame.  (That’s why you must always select the scapegoat FIRST.)

Just apologize and get on with life.  (Firstly, shouldn’t that be “RuPaulogize”™ Willam Belli”?  And Seconal™, being Us means you never have to say you’re sorry. Mainly because you ain’t.)

(Clearly, all pretensions of Victorian novelisthod have been defenestrated.)

Try not to confuse your opinions with truth. (Also, don’t cloud the issue with facts.)

Not everyone agrees with your ideas right now, (Stupidassmuthafuckahs.)

(What, you were expecting a witty riposte?  Shirley you digest.)

and if you assume that they do, you could run the risk of really ticking a few people off. (Which is probably for the best, as who likes people with ticks on them?)

So be sure to double check with everyone before moving forward on any group activities. (Confucius say, is difficult to have orgy by oneself.)

(Confucius probably didn’t actually ever say that.  But he might have, because who the hell understands Chinese?)

Hasty action on your part will probably leave some brittle egos feeling left out — and cause a few sabotage plans to be hatched.  (Oh, good lord…next thing ya know, the CIA’ll be putting an IUD in Our DVR.)

(What?  We’re just so proud that We stopped Ourself from saying “VCR”.)

A little extra consideration will help you stay popular.  (Sod off, AssHat.)


You’d rather take action than mince words. (Today on Frenching The Chef, julienned paragraphs.)

(Should We or any of Our EDH Force be caught or killed, The Secretary will disavow any knowledge of Our actions.)

Today you may have a chance to do something important instead of merely talking about it. (That is ever so doubtful.)

Follow your gut instincts (EEEuuuwww!!!)

and move forward without looking back. (Or move backward without looking for…?)

Show them you mean business.  (See, as We’ve always said, it’s “show business” not “show art”.  Because how little sense would that sentence make if that sentence could make sense?  Or, if it read, “Business them you mean show”.)

(We’re outtie.)

 (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.