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Monday, June 4, 2012

Go jump in the lake, go ride up the hill, get out…



Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for JustAnotherManPurseMonday, June 4rd, 2012.  Happy birthday to Colin, who turns twenty-four today. And Happy Queen’s Birthday to Our New Zealandishese readers, Happy Foundation Day to Our Western Australian readers, and Happy Spring Bank Holiday to Our Irelandishese and UKanian-except-for-Scotland readers.  Lord, it must be difficult to figger out when One is supposed to go to work and when One has the day off if One lives in Australia or the UK.  Fortunately, here in These United States, it’s just Monday.  Does anyone know when the Queen’s ACTUAL birthday is?  Bitch intends to celebrate, apparently, for an entire year.  And what exactly is One supposed to buy her, anyway?  Clearly, she collects ugly hats, but it’s not like you can buy her one…they’re always dyed to match her outfit.  And her shoes. And her husband.  Who is, for some reason, neither the King, nor a jack, so how One plays cards in that country remains a mystery.

Sigh.

Meanwhile, you may recall that We began last week talking about building a bridge with which to get over Ourselves.  Turns out, it’s not Us.  (Well, technically, it’s not We.  (It may, however, actually be We-We-We-all-the-way-home, but that’s neither here nor there.))  Other people are actually fucking with Us, as We are apparently Too Nice For Our Own Good.

We shall pause here, to give you time to stop sniggering into your Weetabix™.  (Really!  What you do in private is your own business, but nobody likes a public Weetabix™ sniggerer.  (But nobody doesn’t like SaraLee™.))

(Micro$oft Weird™ is frowning upon “sniggerer”.  If One can snigger, why can One not be a sniggerer?  It’s a simple principle of The Queen’s English.  Somebody get The Queen on the phone. (Do you think The Queen has a cell phone in her purse?  Do people call her, do you think?  Does she call people?  What does she say?  “Yo, it’s The Queen.  Do you have Prince Albert in a can?”  If she says that, does she snigger?  If so, would she say she is a sniggerer?  (Using The Royal We, naturally:  “We are A Sniggerer.”)))

Queen jokes.  They never get old.  Unlike, say, The Queen.  It’s a good thing We aren’t The Queen.  We would definitely have Prince Harry jump out of Our birthday cake…

But where were We before We digressed?  Oh, yes…other people.  Fucking with Us.  We may not be The Queen, but We know how to say “Off with their heads!”  Bitches best step off.

(We also know how to say, “Let them eat cake”, but if Prince Harry’s jumping out of it, nobody else is getting any.)

In other news, yesterday We betook Ourself (oh, shut up…it’s not like We publicly sniggered into Our Weetabix™) into Ye Historick Olde Philadelphia to witness a clown show entitled The Astronomer Collapses. It depicted the 1769 fainting spell which prevented astronomer David Rittenhouse from observing Venus's passage in front of the sun, which apparently happens only twice a century (and is about to happen on Tuesday).  When did We, of all people, suddenly become a clown show aficionado, you ask?  We did not.  However, Justin Bieber from Starzina’s Time of the Month Horosocpe: Pisces video  (which see: http://youtu.be/qqEjYYBFxG4    ) was in it, along with another young gentleman with whom he alternated playing David Rittenhouse.  And, while the garb may be colonial, the breeches are very fetchingly tailored, so there’s that.

Oh, dear…is he reading this?  We may blush.  Well, We promised We’d plug him…if you would like to see this 15-minute show for the low, low price of free, it is happening today and tomorrow, beginning at noon and at 5PM, four times in succession each.  It is in Thomas Jefferson Park, which you enter on the east side of 5th Street, just south of Chestnut (the park is just south of the park that contains The Signer statue, across 5th Street from the American Philosophical Society Museum).  Tell ‘em Starzina sent you.

This has been a public service announcement.  (We do public service, but not public Weetabix™ sniggering.)  In other news, from The No Good Deed Goes Unpunished department, while We were observing said clown show (and said breeches), some sort of insect flew into Our eye, which is now swollen and gross.  Because The Universe found it necessary to make Us even less attractive than We already are, in case Our Prince Should Come on the subway on Our way to sketch comedy class tonight.

(“We said We’d plug him…”  heh.  We kill Us.)

Speaking of plugging, obviously We shall also have to plug Ourself (isn’t that always the way?  (something else, no doubt, that The Queen has in her purse)),  the WaitStaff will be playing The Match Game again by popular demand on Thursday, June 7 and Friday, June 8, at 7:30 at L’Etage at 6th & Bainbridge.  And We expect an enormous turnout in honor of the passing of the late, great Richard Dawson. 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.

Here’s  the HorrorScope:

(WHAT?!?  All those stupid Australian and UKian holidays, and nobody pointed out that it’s Angelina Jolie’s birthday?!?)

You should see about shaking things up (You should also consider twisting.  And/or shouting.  Baby.)

— your energy is just right for taking action and making your mark on the world. (Kiss Us quick, We’re Zorro. (Whose career would not have been nearly as colorful, it suddenly occurs to Us, if his name had been, say, Isaac.))

See if your people can back you up as you bring big things to life.  (Always with this delusion that We have “people”.  We are *A* queen, not *THE* Queen.)

No matter what kind of conversation you get involved in to today, you need to make sure that you come off in a good light. (Well, then, put a dark rose gel in it, and smear some Vaseline™ on that bad boy.)

(That being, of course, what she said.)

Your reputation is your top concern right now, so it’s essential for you to take care of it. (We have admitted that We publicly admired the tailoring of clowns’ breeches….We’re pretty sure Our reputation is finished.)

Attention to detail is more important than ever, too — you don’t want to send any emails with typos, or dress too causally for an important event. (Did she really just say “causally” when she meant “casually” in a sentence about typos?  Jeebus!  Remind Us why We don’t have an editing job again?)

Make sure you’re polished and smooth today. (Could that euphemism BE any more blatant?  She might just as well have said, “Make sure your Weetabix™ is well-sniggered.”)

Some very important people are going to be observing you.  (Well, it’s a good thing We don’t have Prince Albert in Our can, then, innit?)

 Fear of rejection is real. (Especially if you are Us.  (Which, of course, you are not. (Because if you (subjunctively) were, who would We be? (We have met the enema, and Toyz ‘R’ Us. (What does that even MEAN?))))

No question about that. (Although We do occasionally have “that” versus “which” issues.)

(We thought it was time for a little tasteful grammar humor amidst all the “Weetabix™ sniggering” vulgarity.  You’re welcome.)

But who’s really dissing whom? (Well, it’s probably not The Queen.  Because We are guessing that, if The Queen Of England were (subjunctively) dissing you, you’d know.  You’d probably get some sort of engraved proclamation.  And there might be a sword involved.)

(Is anyone else now picturing The Queen rapping?  Just Us?  Alrighty, then.)

 Avoid sabotaging a potential love connection before it ever happens. (Eye swollen, Weetabix™ unsniggered…oh, yeah, We a love connection waiting to happen, We is, yo.)

(Now picture The Queen saying that last bit…funny, no?)


Are they interested in you? (Have you met Us?  We make grammar jokes.)

Who knows? (The Shadow knows.  Also, love grows where my Rosemary goes.  Also, they call the wind Maria, but they don’t pronounce it properly.)

That’s not your decision to make.  (Oh, go snigger your Weetabix.  Bitch.)



(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.