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Tuesday, June 26, 2012

But here’s my number, so call me maybe?

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for TyoozDee, June 26, 2012.

So We understand that some of you out there in GentleReaderLand watch a show entitled What Not To Wear. Well, here’s a brand-spanking-new Erix Daily Horoscope feature entitled What Not To Do:

Do not, while enjoying a tasteful happy hour cocktail and speaking with long-lost friends on the telephone, become so frustrated with said telephone’s penchant for dropping calls and hanging up on people that you actually call your telephone service provider for help.  You will, you see, spend the rest of your evening on the phone with said telephone service provider, mixing so many more tasteful cocktails while stuck on never-ending hold that you will actually BELIEVE the Mexican girl when she tells you to turn off your phone and take it apart to solve the problem, and she will call you back in ten minutes.

She will, of course, not only not call you back in ten minutes, she will NEVER call you back, as, immediately upon hanging up on you and your sorry-ass phone, she will have gone to ChiChi’s for margaritas and all-you-can-eat fish taco night.  Leaving you to call your telephone service provider back and be connected with a DotHead who can’t fake sympathy NEARLY as well as a Mexican, and who will say things like, “Don’t use that tone with me” when you attempt to explain the Mexican’s desertion.

After several rounds of this, each less helpful than the last, it will be about seventy-eight o’clock, and you still won’t have had any dinner.  You would call out for pizza, which, in your neighborhood, is at least made by actual Eye-talian people, as opposed to the Chinamen who make it in Center City, but you suspect that your phone wouldn’t last all the way through the order, so you just give up and go to bed, where you will be awakened numerous times as your phone informs you of voice messages that were actually left hours earlier.

Thus endeth today’s e-pissode of What Not To Do.  Next on CBS: The Amazing Racist!

But enough of this lament, and who you callin’ Adelaide?  We promised you a movie review, and here We are, delivering what We promised.  Unlike, say, the diverse workforce of Our telephone service provider.  But We digress.  (Of course, around here, at least We digress in ENGRISH. (Ooops, We digressed again.))

Our movie is entitled 30 Minutes or Less (what, you were expecting maybe  Citizen Kane?  Rosebud is a fucking sled, the end.  (Ooops…We forgot to say “spoiler alert”.))  The movie stars Jesse Eisenberg, and We are here to tell you that he is even cuter in this movie than he was the last time We saw him. He’s like a double-dip ice cream cone of some flavor like rum raisin, or butter pecan, and you will just want to lick him up one side and down the other.  Unless, of course, you are a str8 boi.  Or a lesbian.  (If you are, in fact, a str8 boi, or a lesbian, you will want to know that there is only one girl in the movie, she is not in it very much, she only functions as a plot device, and she’s not especially pretty.  So you might want to give the whole thing a miss. (More Jesse Eisenberg for the rest of Us.))

Speaking of str8 bois, or lesbians, this movie was clearly directed by one, or the other, because Jesse Eisenberg never so much as takes his shirt off.  Speaking of plot devices, the whole movie is nothing but one, and you can practically SEE the cookie-cutter-outline from the writer’s freshman-year screenwriting class.  Although, as cookie-cutter movies go, it’s relatively decent because of (A.) some well-crafted dialogue and (2.) did We mention Jesse Eisenberg is in it?

So it looks like this little indie film that was shot in three days in Michigan, of all places, but yet they apparently had all kinds of money for car chases/crashes and blowing stuff up.  Then you get to the credits and you see that it was produced by Ben Stiller, which explains why there was money and also makes you exceedingly grateful that he didn’t stink up the place by slithering his hairy-backed ass onto the screen, because the only thing more repulsive than a movie screen with Ben Stiller on it is a movie screen with Ben Stiller on it standing next to the only person in Hollywood more repulsive than he is, Nicolas Cage.  And the mental image of that actually happening causes you to blank out the entire cookie-cutter plot of the movie you just watched.
So Our rating?  Two thumbs up Jesse Eisenberg.  You’re welcome.

In still other news, The Match Game : playing it We shall be on Friday, July 13 and Saturday, July 14, at 7:30, at L’Etage.  The SitOnMyFaceBook event is here: and tickets can be gotten here: .  Be there, or be BLANK.)

Here’s the HorrorScope:

Kelli wants Us to know that some child from TV’S Gossip Girl called Ed Westwick is having his twenty-fifth birthday today.  Meanwhile, grown folks worth talking about who are having birthdays today include Chris O’Donnell and Chris Issak.

This is the best time to get started in a new direction. (We choose south.)

Things are looking up, (What do you say when Jesse Eisenberg wears a kilt?  (Oh, We WEREN’T playing Jeopardy?  Too bad, so sad, anal sex with your dad.))

and you should find that your energy is perfect for launching new businesses, relationships and legal agreements.  (All at once?  And plural?  Why, We’re exhausted just contemplating it.)

A reprimand, (What, some other DotHead is gonna say, “Don’t use that tone with me”?)

or perhaps even a brush with the law, (Is that a nightstick in your pocket, occifer, or are you just happy to see Us?)

will leave you feeling sobered (We certainly hope so.  Maybe We’ll actually eat dinner.)

— and much wiser — today. (We put off going to Homo Depot yesterday, because it was supposedly going to rain.  Today it is supposedly not going to rain, so We shall go to Homo Depot, and it will probably snow.)

You have come (But have We overcome?  Because We shall, you know.)

(Heh.  See what We did there?)

as close as you want to come to the brink of big-time trouble, so it’s time to take a step back and catch your breath. (Can We catch other people’s breath instead?  And can We hold it for a really long time?)

Aside from promising yourself that you’ll never get into a tricky situation like that one again, (“Tricky Situation”, meanwhile, was Our nickname in high school.)

what are you going to do to avoid future problems?  (Throw away Our phone and buy two Dixie™ cups and a string?)

Take a good long look at the people you’re spending your time with. (None of whom, it would appear, is Jesse Eisenberg.  (Although there is the odd resemblance here and there.)  On the glass-half-full side, however, none of them is Ben Stiller or Nicolas Cage, either.)

There may be some bad apples in the bunch.  (Not to mention bad bananas. And don’t even get Us started on the bad papayas.)

(We don’t ALWAYS know what We’re talking about, ya know.)

Today you can use your charm to get what you want. (Ah, yes, Our charm.  We’ll get right on that.)

Don’t waste this superpower on the usual suspects.  (ExACTly.  Who’s gonna waste their time trying to charm Kevin Spacey?)

Turn your attentions toward the one person you want to get to know intimately.  (Alright, which one of YouPeople has Jesse Eisenberg’s phone number?)

 (Heh.  We just noticed that, of all the celebs who wound up as labels in today's Erix Daily Horoscope, only Jesse Eisenberg had been a label before.  No idea what that means, We're just sayin'.)

(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.