Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s!Periodic!Horoscope! for Toozdee, May Twelfff, 2015.
We are, of course, in the sign of Taurus, Our video for which is above. And here, because it is also brillllllliant, is Our original Taurus video:
Here are the links with which you may share those videos with both of your friends:
And now, in the time-honored tradition (well, since February-or-so, anyway) of Eric’s!Periodic!Horoscope!, We hereby wish Happy Belated Birthdays to the most-mouth-watering birthday suits to have celebrated birthdays since last We e-pisstled. So, Happy Belated Birthday to Danny, Fernando, Gerard, Gregg, Israel, Keith, Mark, Matt, and Vince.
(It occurs to Us that, when We’ve made such a list in the past, We’ve usually actually seen at least one or two of the birthday suits thereon. This time? Not so much. One or more of all y’all oughta do something about that.)
In Our ongoing efforts at refraining from complaining, We shall now regale you with a few observations from recent cinematic/theatrical/artistic exploits…
We finally got around to watching Birdman (Bird Man? BirdMan? Nana, Nana, Nana, Nana, Nana, Nana, Nana, Nana…BIRDMAN! BIRDMAN! BIRDMAN! (Sorry.)), which clearly deserved its Best Pixture Oscar™. Also, Michael Keaton wuz robbed. What can We say about this pixture that hasn’t already been said? What pithy artistic observation, unique to Our Own Personal world view? Well, We would like all of the movers and shakers in HollyWeird to know that We would most definitely watch an entire fillum entitled Edward Norton’s Assz.
Speaking of fillums and body parts, We also recently watched Gone Girl, and were well into it (time-wise) before We recomembered that it contained the infamous Ben Affleck peen shot. Which, natch, We slowed down and reviewed several times before deciding that the likelihood of actual peen versus CGI was about 50-50.
As far as the non-Ben-Affleck’s-peen parts of the fillum, We might have to read the book to figger out exactly what was supposed to be going on, but We probably won’t be able to be arsed. Also, We don’t exactly want to say that Ben Affleck can’t act, but We will say that sometimes he forgets to.
Also, it is no secret to Our regular Gentle Readers (both of whom are very nice) that We love Us some Neil Patrick Harris. He was so miscast in this particular fillum, however, that his very existence just constantly seemed to scream out, “I’m Neil Patrick Harris!”
(Bonus points if you heard that a la Patty Duke in Valley of the Dolls screaming, “I’m Neely O’Hara!” (Also, insert I’m A Celebrity…Get Me Out Of Here! joke here.))
Speaking of people We’re always happy to see nekkid (and, birthday-suit-gentlemen named above, We’re waiting), kudos to Daniel Radcliffe for cavorting in the altogether in some bit of fluff entitled What If, which would never have been made without him, as it consisted of approximately a third of an episode of The Gilmore Girls. There was, of course, no Daniel Radcliffe peen, as he was only being paid a dollar forty-seven, but still, way to brighten up that beach scene.
Also, body parts aside (aka nipples to the wind and tits akimbo), if you are following along to the bitter end of Mad Men, the young man who played the con-boy in Jon Hamm’s motel is named Carter Jenkins, and you’ll be seeing a lot more of him, We predickt. You’re welcome.
Moving on, didja know that We have been e-pisstling e-pissodes of these e-pisstles in one form or another since 2001? And that the earliest dead-tree archival records from 2004 are now over TEN YEARS OLD, and can be found (for a small fee) here: http://www.lulu.com/shop/eric-singel/erics-daily-horoscope-2004/paperback/product-300894.html ?
Thank Gawd We didn’t stray from the point.
In celebrity birthday news , Our celebrity birthday website informs Us that it is Jason Biggs’s birthday, which gives Us the opportunity to say, “Happy birthday, piefucker!”. Apple pie for everybody!
And now, We realize it’s been a while, but here is call-and-response with everybody’s Second-Favorite Ass(tromalogical) Ho(roscopulist), Kelli:
Today, don't feel an iota of guilt if you want to ignore the outside world. (What about a scintilla of remorse? Or a jot of shame? Or a soupcon of compunction?)
(Compunction, punction…what’s your function?)
Let your phone go to voice mail, (Unsupervised?!?)
and don't stress out about the contents of your email inbox. (Why not??? WHAT’S IN THERE THAT YOU’RE HIDING FROM US???)
You are important, but the folks in your daily life can get along without you for just one day. (Oh, sure…first it’s a day, then a week, the next thing you know, Our wedding dress is covered in mold and there are spiders nesting in Our hair…)
(We are so fucking litter-hairy, We scare Ourself.)
(All together now: it’s a long way…to Litter-Hairy…a long way…to go…)
It's time to step back from constant interaction. (Why are We the only one singing?)
Do you really need to have your phone turned on all day? (Do you really need to ask rhetorical questions?)
Make yourself incommunicado for at least a couple of hours. (How ‘bout commando instead?)
You'll feel amazingly free. (See? Commando works.)
Your dreams are on your mind today. (Which is good. Because if they were on Our duodenum, digestion would be difficult.)
They've been so vivid and weird lately, and you can't help but wonder if your subconscious is trying to tell you something. (Lettuce just get out Our subconscious Ouija board…)
Expect to spend the day lost in your head. (Ya know what We expect? Birthday suit pix from the nine gentlemen named above. STAT.)
(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!)
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.