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Wednesday, May 28, 2014

To leather, to dildos, to curry vindaloo, to Huevos Rancheros and Maya Angelou







Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s! Daily! Horoscope! for WhatWouldBeHumpDayIfThisWeekHadAHumpButIt’sAFourDayWeekSoItHasNoHumpSoThisWeekIsHumplessJustLikeWeAreEVERYWeekHaHaHa, May 28rd , 2014.




Also, Happy Vigesimo Octavo de Mayo to everybody.



So, for something new and different, it’s raining.  Merde, il pleut.




It is so fucking multicultural up in this place, it’s like the goddamn United Nations.  We habla Espaniol, We parlez-vous Francais, why, We’d probably speak Esquimaux if somebody would cart all this whale blubber out of here.  All in the interests of improving the abilities of Our Gentle Readers who are still in grade school to speak in tongues.



Hey, everybody’s gotta grow up sometime.



Jeebus Cripes, it’s pleuting goddamn cats and dogs out there.  Or, as they would say in Frawnch, “il pleut  la cuisine chinoise”.  (That there was a little joke for Our Sistah Ovella.  (Hi, Ovella!))



So Maya Angelou died.  Ordinarily, We would not address celebrity death within these e-pisstles, as it does not fit in with Our Mission Statement of (A.) making YouPeople feel better by comparison (although you do presumably feel better than Maya Angelou at the moment…hmmm…) and (2.) keeping a journalistic chronicle of the tedious repetitive ennui that We pretend is Our life.  So, unless Maya Angelou died during a dinner party at Our house, We should presumably keep Our yap shut on the subject.




However.



Regular Gentle Readers who are NOT naked skimmers will be aware that Ms. Angelou has been frequently cited within these hallowed pages.  Mainly because her name rhymes with stuff, like “Pixture du jour au jus”, “Gerard Depardieu”, and “Marilyn McCoo”. 



Which is exceedingly considerate of a poet to do.
At least as far as We’re concerned…you too?



(We may need an exorcist up in here…the direction that Eric’s!Daily!Horoscope! could take if We are indeed possessed by the spirit of Maya Angelou is too horrifying to contemplate…)



Are We doing this joke too soon?
Perhaps We should wait till June…




(Stop it, Maya!)



In other news, warm kisses on your opening to OurMikeDoh, who opens tonight in InCaseOfFirePleaseBreakGlass at the Arden.



Speaking of birthdays, We are awaiting with bated breath (because We are nothing if not a master breath-bater) the arrival of Our birthday gift of tickets to see Hedwig and the Angry Inch starring Neil Patrick Harris and Linda Lovelace.



(We are just going to keep right on saying that until that show closes, thereby demonstrating the utter futility of Creative ViZZZualization.  (Although apparently We have viZZZualized well enough that one poor deluded Gentle Reader actually imagines that We already HAVE said tickets.))




(How many of you are now picturing Linda Lovelace as Yitzhak?  (How many of you are now saying, “That stupid bitch Starzina can keep doing this gag all the way till August, ain’t NOBODY buying her no damn Hedwig tickets”?))





In other news, We find Ourselves (not that We were looking for Us, but it’s a figger of speech) in the sign of Gemini, Our video for which is above …and here is the link with which you may share it with your friends: http://youtu.be/Yj7enrUk6js ))).




Also, for those of you who like cups of tea, and history, and someone in a tree, here is Our previous Gemini video, which is the first Starzina’s Time of the Month Horoscope video We ever made.  Just look how far We’ve come! (Ooops…did that get in your eye?):





And here’s the HorrorScope:



In celebrity birthday news, Gladys Knight is seventy today.  No word on how old her pips are.



(That sounds way dirtier now that We’ve typed it out than it sounded in Our head.)



Try not to dive too deeply into any emotional business today — you’ve got to keep things on surface-level as much as you can.  (Good thing We’re so shallow then, innit?)




Your energy is best spent on mundane activities anyway.  (Oh, Our energy is spent, alright.  But shouldn’t today’s activities be wednesdane?)




(All together now:  GROOOOAAANNNNN!!!!)




You’re quite fiery, (We had Chinese food for lunch.)




(We didn’t, really, but fart jokes are funny.  Especially implied fart jokes that don’t use the word “fart”.  The only thing funnier than an implied fart joke that doesn’t use the word “fart” is an implied fart joke that doesn’t use the word “fart” that you have to EXPLAIN.  Let Us tell you why…)




(Heh.  See what We did there?)




especially when it’s time to speak your mind  (Now THAT’LL be a short sentence.)




— or ask for answers you know you deserve. (We deserve so many things…)




You’ve never been shy about asking those questions, either, even if they’re not polite (Unfortunately, it is difficult to get questions answered when One is talking to Oneself.)




Now that you’ve got a hot topic on your mind and you know there’s no other way to solve it than to ask around, you’re more than willing to risk tarnishing your reputation a little to get the answers you’re after.  (Hot Topic is not punk rock.)






(That there was a little musical interlude.  Because We have that power.)




 If you feel like the last kid picked for the kickball team, you’re right on track. (We would play kickball if it actually involved kicking people in the balls.)




Don’t take it personally,  though.  (Fuck you.  Bee-Yotch.)




It isn’t about ability or popularity, it’s more about availability. (Is it just Us, or does Kelli fling words about like a poo-flinging monkey that’s flinging poo?)



(Since when is there not a word such as “poo”?
Let’s ask Maya Angelou...

What about poo-poo platters?
Now there’s some poo that matters…)



(Stop it, Maya!)




(See how We came back to the Maya Angelou theme, AND referenced Chinese food?  We are A Highly-Trained Professional…do NOT attempt this at home.)




 If you’re not putting yourself front and center, it’s no wonder you’re light on invitations.  (What if Our backfield’s in motion?  THEN WHAT???)




Namaste, MotherFuckers.



In gaseousness,


Starzina Starfish-Browne

(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://sett.com/astrogeek895/.  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.