Must be blood, must be fresh

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for  JustAnotherMackTruckMonday, August 13, 2012.  Oh, my dears.  We are a bona fide Movie Star!  (Parenthetically, when One says it aloud, “bona fide” sounds not unlike “boner fried”, which isn’t the same thing at all. (But there may be Newbies in the house, so We really shouldn’t be putting things like “boner fried” in the first paragraph, lest they be frightened off.  Moving on…))  You will recall that We were on Our way this weekend to strut and fret in a student fillum in which We were to play a colonel in the Confederate Army.  The quintessential question on this subject was, of course, asked by TCBITWWW, who, upon hearing that We were to appear in a Civil War fillum, inquired, “Are you playing Harriet Tubman?”

But lettuce share Our adventures with you…

We arose to commence Our ablutions at 5AM.  And, if you think We are unattractive in regular life, you should see Us at THAT hour.  (Actually, no.  You shouldn’t.)  It was a perfectly beautiful day, which, no doubt, only served to make Us less attractive by comparison.  We trundled off to Drexel, where a large group of earnest and industrious Young People were loading up a caravan of vehicles which would transport Us to the location.

The location, as it turns out, was somewhere called WhoreSham.  “WhoreSham”, of course, is an old Arapaho Indian word which refers to sex play in which one of the partners pretends to be a prostitute, and the other pretends to be his or her customer.  (Except in Our Own Personal case, of course, in which its lesser-known meaning applies, said meaning referring to the fact that people are always taking Our money, but We never get laid.)  The actual location was An Historical Landmark called Graeme Park (which see: http://www.graemepark.org/ ), which gave Us Our first flash of brilliance of the day: We shall have Ourself declared An Historical Landmark, and charge people to look at Our decaying ruins!  Talk about your WhoreSham!

 Because the Young People were attempting to replicate the set of an actual fillum, the first order of the day was breakfast from Craft Services.  Then makeup began affixing a scar to Our face to account for a knife wound.  Said wound would enable Us, MUCH later in the day, to ruin an entire take by saying, in a fit of thespian brilliance, “He’s dead.  I wrestled the gun from him and stabbed him.”

Whilst We were being thus beautified, the first shot was underway on set.  The only actor in this shot was what appeared to be an adorable little four-year-old moppet who actually turned out to be Satan.  (The child’s name was Damien, fercrissakes; that should have been someone’s first clue.)  It is unclear to Us what exactly went on, but it took a very long time, and seemed to involve the child’s displeasure at not being allowed to carry his Spiderman action figure on camera.  Mercifully, We were not involved because (A.) We hate to drink children’s blood after We have already had a full breakfast and (2.) the director decided to substantially reduce the child’s role in future shots in which We WILL be involved completely without Our divine intervention.

When it came Our turn to work, Our first scene involved Us calling Our child.  (The child was, fortunately, gone by this point.  (Fillums are funny that way.  For example, We haven’t as yet even met the guy We supposedly stabbed with the gun.))  This took Us back to Our Own (remote) childhood, when The Sainted Mother would call out the door for Us to come home, and We would hear her several blocks away.  Apparently, the young people were startled at Our genetically inherited ability.  Of course how were they to know that The Sainted Mother’s maiden name was Loud?

Following the Calling Our Child scene (We trust that you knew, from the first moment that We used the phrase “calling Our child”, that We didn’t mean on the phone), there were a number of scenes in which We were called upon to (We can barely manage to type this) RUN.  And, my dears, We RAN.  With no one chasing Us.  REPEATEDLY.  And, more importantly, lived to tell the tale.

We ran, in fact, all the way till lunch.  Which was much later in the day than  One would normally imagine (to give you some sense of how long We ran).  And, in all that time, other than calling Our child’s name, we had yet to utter a word on camera.  We greatly suspect that, When We finally did, We sounded exactly like Foghorn Leghorn, but the Young People didn’t seem to be phased.  Perhaps Foghorn Leghorn was before their time.

At any rate, other than a melee of blood-spattering and N-word-hollering which totally ruined the day for a young couple who had come to this bucolic location to have their engagement pictures taken, that is all We have to report.  Shooting continues next weekend, so We shall no doubt be back to regale you with more stories next week.

Shooting, meanwhile, wrapped at 7PM, and We did not get home until 8:45.  It is amazing how much more annoying the stupid people can be after such a long day.

In other news, everyone’s favorite sketch comedy troupe The WaitStaff will be doing two Very Special Preview Performances of their Fringe show, The Real Housewives of South Philly Play The Match Game!, on Sunday, August 19 at 7 and on Thursday, August 23 at 7:30 at L’Etage.  SitOnMyFaceBook events have more info here http://www.facebook.com/events/431133030262749/ and here http://www.facebook.com/events/485179294844645/ and tickets are available here: 

http://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/265032

 The contestants for these performances will be artists from other (funny) Fringe shows.  For example, on the 19^th, the contestants will include The Lovely And Talented Greg Nix, one of the merry murderers from Jeff Coon and Ben Dibble Must Die, The Equally Lovely And Talented John D’Alonzo, who is playing Ivona, Princess of Burgundia in the play of the same name by the Idiopathic Ridiculopathy Consortium (it just occurred to Us that that makes him titular…We must alert the media) and the No Less Lovely And Talented Bill McKinlay, of the MacKnight Foundation’s I Hate Monologues and The Alphabet Plays.

Here’s the HorrorScope:

But first, Happy Danny Bonaduce’s Birthday to all of Our Gentle Readers, most of whom are not, presumably, Danny Bonaduce.

Clarity is hard to come by today — so make sure you’re doing your part! (ClariTIN™, on the other hand, can be purchased at any drug store.  Our ”part”, meanwhile, is clearly Aunt Clara.)

 It may be harder than usual for you to make yourself understood, so ask questions and make sure people really get it.  (Oh, they’ll get it.  Once We start stabbing people with Our gun, they’ll get it alright.)

 Effective communication is not as easy for everyone to achieve as it is for you, so be on the lookout for people who really need help getting their meaning across.  (Do We have to?)

You can step in at the right moment to clarify their thoughts and help them get on the right track. (Yes, but, just because they’re Stupid People, doesn’t mean they’ll do what We tell them to.  In fact, part of their stupidity is that they WON’T do what We tell them to.  After all, we can run everyone’s life but Our Own.)

Also, expect to have a very interesting conversation with a random person today — someone next to you in a line, a fellow commuter, or just someone riding the elevator with you.  (Note to Self: avoid lines, commuting, and elevators.)

Don’t miss your chance to connect.  (If anybody makes Us miss Our chance to connect, We shall stab them with Our gun.)

 Love interests who are ready to go the distance are more concerned with what’s inside than what’s outside.  (This “go the distance” business doesn’t involve running, does it?)

Long conversations and genuine interest in your opinions are two big clues that they’re quality suitors.  (Other, and some would say BETTER, clues are diamonds and platinum charge cards with Our name on them.)

(Completely randomly, We are craving macaroni and cheese.  Homemade, not out of the little blue box.  Is it possible that We are pregnant?  Can One get pregnant, simply from making a fillum with some virile Young People?  Can the Immaculate Contraption happen post-menopause? (Life is full of such interesting questions, innit?))

 

(Your Your-O-Scopes:

http://www.humorscope.com)

(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.