Showing posts with label Dustin Hoffman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dustin Hoffman. Show all posts

Thursday, August 8, 2013

What if God was one of us?






Hello, Ducks!







Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s! Daily! Horoscope! for  ThurstonHowellTheThirdsThursday, August 8st, 2013.  Happy Birthday to Kevin, who turns twenty-four today right here in The City That Loves You (On Your) Back.  Also, Happy Birthday to Nicholas, who also turns twenty-four today, albeit for only the second time.  In Reading.  Where the Monopoly™ railroad is.  And also too, last but not Lee Strasberg, Happy Birthday to TCBITWWW, who and also too turns twenty-four today somewhere in WeHo.




Also, Happy Eid al-Fitr to the rest of all y’all.  This apparently has something to do with Muslims, and ending a month of fasting.  (As it is a slow news day here at Eric’s!Daily!Horoscope!, We will permit you to chuckle over the fact that We mistyped that as “fisting” on the first go-round.)  What is up with all these crazy religions imagining that Gawd gives a shit what they do or do not eat?  Maybe it’s Us, but if We were (subjunctively) Gawd, We would have a lot more important things on Our mind than what the fuck some group of religious nimrods chose to eat or not eat today.  Questions like “could We make a rock so heavy that We couldn’t lift it?”, and “how do you KNOW the light in the refrigerator goes off when you close the door?”, and “who makes the best pizza in Souf Philly?”  would occupy much more of Our time than worrying about whether a bunch of crazed zealots in bad outfits had growling stomachs.  Jeebus.




In other news of vital importance to the realm, We did actually begin to write the script for Our Fringe show yesterday.   We are talking, of course, about  LOOKING FOR URANUS:  Starzina Starfish-Browne’s Comeback Tour , the Kickstarter fundraiser for  which can be found here:   





Thanks to all of Our investors so far, whose generosity has pushed Us over the 50%- funded mark!



(Please do NOT let this fact deter you from helping out…We only get the funds if We become 100% funded.)



Another way to help out (and thanks to the many of you who have already done this) is to share the project with your SitOnMyFaceBook friends.




And, of course, they also help who show the hell up, so here is where tickets can be obtained: http://fringearts.ticketleap.com/looking-for-uranus-starzina-starfish-brownes-comeback-tour/#view=calendar




This just in from The Onion: Winning Lottery Numbers So Obvious In Hindsight.   


                                                                                                    


And here is the HorrorScope:




We do not recall researching this before, although We may be wrong (We thought We were wrong once, but We were mistaken).  It turns out, TCBITWWW shares his birthday with Dustin Hoffman, whose claim to fame is, well, Being Dustin Hoffman (not to be confused with Being John Malkovich) , Esther Williams, whose claim to fame is turning down the Shelley Winters role in The Poseidon Adventure, and Donny Most, whose claim to fame is playing Ralph Malph on Happy Days.




Based on the preceding paragraph, you can just imagine how well Our script is coming along.




You have to take care of your health today (We are guessing you mean mental health?  No idea why…)




(What do We want?
A cure for Tourette’s!
When do We want it?
Cunt!)



(We love that joke.)




— there’s just no getting around it!  (Indeed. Our mental health is vast.  Kinda like the Grand Canyon.  Or Shelley Winters in The Poseidon Adventure.)




See if you can get your friends to help you figure out a new routine so you don’t fall back into bad habits once again.  (Honey, if you see Us dressed as a nun, call for backup.)




If you are getting sick of doing the same thing every day, look in the mirror to find the solution. (Vampires don’t have reflections.  Or is that umpires?  No, umpires don’t have erections.  It’s something about the stripes…)




(Yeah, this fuckin’ script is gonna win a Pulitzer.)




It’s time for you to use some of your fabulous ingenuity. (Won’t there come a point where We use it all up?)




Brighten up your blah daily routine by coming up with a new avenue to explore.  (We are not quite understanding how We shall become a successful streetwalker when We cannot even GIVE it away…)




Take things where you want them to go today, whether anyone else is on board with your idea or not.  (There. Is No One. Else. Here.  Both of Our social plans for the week fell through, and We last saw people who are not total strangers at the murder mystery on Saturday.  We talk to Ourself.  A LOT.)




You don’t need other people’s permission to live your life.  (We are, however, desperate for their persimmons.)





Education is the easiest path to finding love. (Or that streetwalking thing.)




It’s time to decide which old skill needs sharpening (Wait….you mean it’s NOT like riding a bicycle?)




or settle on a topic you’ve been wanting to explore for a while. (How many angels can dance on the head of a penis?)




The brain is the biggest erogenous zone!  (Clearly, you’ve not seen the size of Our ass lately.)



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://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!)

*****************************************************************************

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.

                                                                                                                                     

Monday, February 25, 2013

Do you hear the people sing people who need people?




Hello, Ducks!



Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s! Daily! Horoscope! for  JustAnotherMagicMikeWasn’tEvenNominatedMonday, February 25, 2013.  Oh, Our dears, this is going to be a long one!  (That being, We shouldn’t even have to point out, unless you are such a newb that they just took the wrappings off, What She Said.)  For the first time evah here at Eric’s!Daily!Horoscope!, We are going to bring you complete Oscar™ coverage, except for those parts where We hadda go pee.  Because, as We have recently discovered, YouPeople do so prefer to follow Our bouncing ballz along when We have a point.



But first, some birthday wishes.  From Saturday, Happy Belated Birthday to Lyle and his sister, Lyell, each of whom turned twenty-four that day.  (You might think that would make them twins, but they are hardly identical.)  Happy Belated Birthday also to Susan, who also turned twenty-four On Saturday, and who is on the verge of becoming Our second-cousin-in-law.  (We have a chart that tells Us things like who’s a first, second, and third cousin, who’s removed, who’s an inlaw, who’s an outlaw, who’s on first, what’s on second, I don’t know’s on third…this is getting really long and We didn’t even get to the Oscars™ yet.)



Also from Saturday, Happy Belated Birthday to Chris and to Nick, who also turned twenty-four.  And from Sunday, Happy Belated Birthday to MizGerreGarrett and to Cathy, each of whom also turned (in an odd coincidence) twenty-four, and to Jonathan, who, marching to a differently-abled drummer as he does, did NOT turn twenty-four.  And, last but not Lee’s™ Press-On Nails, Happy Birthday to Len, who turns twenty-four today.



And now, ladies and genitals, the Oscars™!



First off, We must point out that We started off under the mistaken impression that the proverbial shit was to begin hitting the proverbial fan at 8PM Eastern Standard Time, so We are also able to report on a bit of the pre-show red carpet shenanigantics.    This consisted of several noted entertainment reporters, all dressed to the nines, asking every woman who wandered their way, “Who are you wearing?”  Our first sign that this was going to be a long, unrelenting evening was when not a single woman replied, “Ross Dress-for-Less…what’s it to ya?”



In addition to the noted entertainment reporters, this segment of the evening also involved, inexplicably, Kristen Chenowith, flitting about the celebs like a hyperactive mosquito with attention deficit disorder and a crack pipe, saying, “Bless your heart” a lot.  Now, while Kristen Chenowith is well-known on the Broadway stage, and has, in recent years, begun making inroads into television, We are hard-pressed to name A Kristen Chenowith Fillum.  Mainly because We don’t think there are any.  Also, she is weird looking and way too skinny.  Go away and eat a fucking sandwich, Kristen Chenowith.



Speaking of weird looking, Our apologies to People magazine and the rest of his fans, but We totally Do Not Get the Channing Tatum fascination.



The red carpet also marked the evening’s first (but by no means the evening’s LAST) appearance of Miss Jane Hathaway, who was, of course, nominated for Best Supporting Anorexic for Baguette’s Feast, or some other damn foreign fillum.  She was wearing a pale-pink dress through which One could clearly see her nipples, despite the fact that she has no breasts.  Mister Drysdale will certainly be giving her a talking-to in the morning.  Although Jethro no doubt had a boner.



For those who would like to (re-)read Our review of Miss Jane Hathaway's fillum, please see here: http://ericsdailyhoroscope.blogspot.com/2013/02/everybody-raise-glass-raise-it-up.html



Would We be showing Our age if We mentioned that we remember when Daniel Day-Lewis was hot?



Okay, so now We’re about to leave the red carpet and go start the show.   But first, for some reason, they want Us to know that the cast of Glee is  somehow the future of movie-making, and will be helping to present Oscars™ throughout the evening.  Also, lest We think that Kristen Chenowith has gone off somewhere to bite her husband’s head off after mating, they threaten Us that, if We stay awake throughout the entire proceedings, at the very end, she’s gonna SING to Us.  Because there’s nothing anybody ever wants more, after they’ve given out the very last Oscar™, than for the show to go on a while longer.



Okay, NOW We’re inside, and the show is starting, and Our first thought is, Day-um, Donny Osmond has had some work done!  But what the hell’s wrong with his hair? (We did, of course, ultimately realize that the host is not Donny Osmond, although We cannot be arsed, at this point, to remember who the hell it is.  However, during a commercial break, IMDB informed Us that he had every bit as much business appearing on the Oscars™ as Donny Osmond and/or Kristen Chenowith, and---)



WTF?!?  Is that William Shatner?  Why, yes…yes, it is.  Conveniently attired, for those who might not recognize him from his long and illustrious fillum career, in his Star Wars Trek uniform.  He is interacting with Donny Osmond in what is apparently Act Four of the evening’s opening.  “You don’t,” he intones, “want to be the first Oscars™ host to get a bad review.”  (Apparently, We are all supposed to have forgotten the 2011 debacle involving James Franco and Miss Jane Hathaway.)


Note to Self:  Since he refuses to become past tense, should his name be William Shitner?



Wow, this opening is long.  Like Wagner’s Ring Cycle long.  And equally funny.  For some reason, Channing Tatum and Charlize Theron dance during it.  The dance is well-executed, and mercifully brief.  Not, however, so brief that it doesn’t give Us time to realize that Channing Tatum and Charlize Theron have the same initials.  They could get married and nobody would need to buy them new towels.  Also, Channing Tatum is wearing, We shit you not, spats.  We don’t know why people wore spats back when people wore spats.  He looks even stupider than he looked on the red carpet.



Also dancing? Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Daniel Radcliffe.   We have dreams in which Joseph Gordon-Levitt dances with Daniel Radcliffe.  But (A.) they are not tap-dancing and (2.) they are not wearing tuxedos.



We trust We have given you some sense of just how long the opening was.  We are not, naturally, going to do an award-by-award description of the rest of the evening, as We are not being paid by the word; We shall just leave you with some kaleidoscopic impressions.



At some point early on That Fat Chick Who Is Making A Career Out Of Nothing Except Being That Fat Chick came out to present.  Hey, Fat Chick:  if you want Us to be politically correct, and NOT call you out for looking like a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade balloon, you might wanna see to it that your stylists don’t dress you in some ill-fitting battleship gray shmata that makes Us think alternately of elephants and hippopotami.  KThxWaddleOff.



Is Dustin Hoffman making The Tony Bennett Story?



Whatever happened to Jamie Foxx’s eyebrows?



Damn…why was the Downton Abbey finale last week?  We could totally switch over to that.



Is there really an animatronic bear telling Jews-in-Hollywood jokes?  Really?



No Sound Design award for the sound people working this show…the orchestra consistently overpowered every single singer.  Until they got to the Les Miz part.  Which sounded a kabillion times better than the actual fillum.  Of course, the excerpts from Chicago and Dreamgirls only served to point out how wretched Les Miz really was.



Speaking of singers and animatronics, did anyone else find it bizarre that the nose that Barbra Streisand refused to have surgically altered for all those years is now the only thing on her face that has NOT been surgically altered?  Just Us?  Alrighty, then.



Also, you GO, Shirley Bassey!  Also, Adele!  And this, it should be noted, especially by Elephant Fat Chick from earlier, is how a generously-proportioned woman needs to dress herself.  “Skyfall”, unfortunately, is a mediocre song at best, especially as Bond songs go, but who cares?  Adele has an Oscar™!



Meryl Streep, meanwhile, apparently picks her ass just like anybody else.



And, just as threatened, the evening ended with a song by Kristen Chenowith and Donny Osmond, full of jokes about the nominees who didn’t win Oscars™ that nobody could hear because the sound balance was so off.



Speaking of a thrill just to be nominated, We have released Our new Starzina’s Time of the Month Horoscope video for Pisces, which see above.  Here is the link with which you would share same with your friends, both Piscean and otherwise:    http://youtu.be/KMNgwWwNux8 .



Many of you will recall Our 2012 Pisces video, complete with guest appearance by Justin Bieber. Since We never tire of sharing that with Our adoring public, while We are waiting for Our invitation to go sailing on Mister Bieber’s yacht, here it is:




We repeated that paragraph in its entirety from the other day because We are still pondering what exactly the “sailing on Mister Bieber’s yacht” euphemism might actually mean.  Sigh.



We are out of time for today, so here are:

(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!)

*****************************************************************************

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.
                                                                                                                                    

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

I’m too sexy for my shirt



Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Wednesday, February 23, 2011.  Sorry to get everyone in such a lather so early in the morning with such a HAWT Erix Daily Horoscope Pixture Du Jour Au Jus Faberge Egg FooYung Guyz Wang Hung Lo Mein Street Stain Stays Mainly On De Plane Boss De Plane Who’s On Top Tonight Tattoo, but it is, after all, Hump Day, and We do, as ever, wish you all the happiest of humps. 

Speaking of pixtures, it occurred to Us that, while We reported yesterday on the subject of Justin Bieber’s barber’s butchery, We did not provide any corroboratorial pixturographic evidence.  So here:  http://www.csmonitor.com/The-Culture/Music/2011/0222/Justin-Bieber-cuts-his-hair-sending-legions-of-boys-to-the-barber .

The preceding paragraph is precedent-setting here at Erix Daily Horoscope for two reasons.  Number One: it is most assuredly the first-ever citing of The Christian Science Monitor as a reference in these particular epistles, and (B.) it employs the words “Justin Bieber” and “butch” in the very same sentence.

Oh, We know, We know; We can hear you all now, bleating, “Get off of Justin Bieber  already!”  And to both of you, We say, “Get off of him?  Why?  To give somebody else a chance? It IS Hump Day, after all.” (Now, no doubt, you’ll begin bleating about the underage thing.  Please.  The boy is turning seventeen on March 1st.  Starzina says, if there’s grass on the field, play ball.  (We have no idea what that MEANS, but We surmise that it’s some sort of American sports metaphor.  From that game of yours, We’re pretty sure, that resembles cricket.)  Perhaps you are unaware of the upcoming remake of The Graduate, set to star none other than the aforementioned Mister Bieber and yours truly, Starzina Starfish-Browne.  “Are you trying to seduce me, Mrs. Starfish-Browne?” (Zombie Anne Bancroft just clawed her way out of her grave, a fact which was only cosmically balanced out by the fact that Dustin Hoffman just dropped dead.)

Meanwhile, We trust that one or another of Our Gentle Readers will prod Us (heh) to remember to send Mister Bieber birthday wishes along with an installment of Erix Daily Horoscope on March 1st.  KThxBye.

In other show business news, We had the opportunity to attend a recent WaitStaff rehearsal for their show this Sunday at World Café Live.  Now, while We have never found Himself the least bit funny, We are always amused by the antics of the WaitStaff, particularly the Real Housewives of South Philly (who will naturally be making an appearance).  However, on this occasion, We also had the opportunity to watch the performances of the WaitStaff’s Very Special Guests for the occasion, Mister Dave Terruso of the sketch comedy group Animosity Pierre, and Miss Jaylene Dulap, a singer-songwriter, and We are here to tell you, this is going to be one funny evening.  So go get your tickets NOW; We’ll wait right here:  http://tickets.worldcafelive.com/eventperformances.asp?evt=1616 .

And now, the horoscope you’ve all been humping for.  Er, WAITING for.  Yeah, that’s it, waiting.

(Micro$oft Weird™ would like Us to know that We have misspelled “Er”.  Thanks, Micro$oft Weird™.  Have a cookie.  And share one with the Bieber.)

An uncomfortable situation this morning — maybe a face-off  (We would imagine that One’s face coming off would be, at the very least, uncomfortable.)

— could escalate if you let it, but you are far better off just walking away. (Renee.)

It’s one of those days that rewards discretion and prudence.  (To say nothing of dyspepsia and prune juice.  You cannot IMAGINE how it rewards THEM.)

(Since We have been waxing poetic in a number of recent installments of Erix Daily Horoscope, We feel compelled to point out that Dyspepsia and Prune Juice is a lesser-known, unpublished sonnet by Percy Bysshe Shelley.  (Please note that We said “waxing poetic”, not “waxing poets”.  Elsewise, you shall spend the rest of the day pixturing Us behaving improperly with Langston Hughes’s boner.))

(Now, of course, no matter how many times We say, “try not to think about Langston Hughes’s boner”, you will be able to think about nothing else for the rest of the day.  SorryBoutEt.)

 It’s a common misconception (Well, what’s the good of that?  If it’s a COMMON misconception, that means that ANYONE could have it.  We shall be striving for an IMMACULATE misconception.)

 that in order to really know what’s going on, (We?  Haven’t had any idea what’s going on since 1986.)

 you have to be right in the middle of the action. (Mm-hmm.  One wonders if they will get Simon and Garfunkel to write the score for Our fillum.  “Now here’s to you, Mrs. Starfish-Browne, Jesus loves you more than you will know…whoa-whoa-whoa…”)

What really gives you accurate insight is an outsider’s perspective; (Conversely, then, it should follow, as the night the day, that what really gives you accurate outsight is an insider’s perspective.  Although what the fu(k is “outsight”, We haven’t got any idea. (Converse™ sneakers, the most important thing is, how does it look from MC Escher’s perspective?))

(Meanwhile, We just have to share with you this definition for “outsight” that We found when We Googled it on Wikipedia:

outsight, n: A statement believed by the person who utters it to be an important or profound insight, but which is in fact regarded by its audience as so obvious or elementary that it reveals the speaker as hopelessly ignorant or slow-witted, at least relative to the relevant group.

…is that the story of Our very life, or what?)

only then can you see things from all angles and understand the motivations behind everyone’s actions. (Well, clearly the only response to that is: Langston Hughes’s boner.)

So today, don’t push to be a part of the action. (Push, push, in the bush. (Aw, dammit, WHO just said “if there’s grass on Bieber’s field, play with his balls”?  Now We’re gonna have to mental floss…))

 Just ride things out  (STOP IT!)

and observe.

Next time you’ll be the only one who will really know how to handle things (G0D DAMMIT!!!)

— and you’ll be invaluable.

(Langston Hughes’s boner, Langston Hughes’s boner, Langston Hughes’s boner.  (Oh, shit…We sure hope that doesn’t work like “Beetlejuice”…))

(O hai, Langston Hughes’s boner….)

If you’ve got any romantic business  (Wait a minute…are We paying the Bieber, or is he paying Us?  (Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio?  Joe-de-Joe has left and gone away…hey-hey-hey…hey-hey-hey…))

— especially communication tasks (Squirrelly synergistic zimblapp.)

— take care of it as early as you can today. (Hey, We’re getting this out before noon.  Cut Us some slack.  Or cut Us some slacks.  Whatevs.)

Later tonight, there’s some weird, somewhat uncomfortable energy on the move.  (Well, sure.  Zombie Anne Bancroft just tripped over Langston Hughes’s boner.)

*****************************************************************************    
(Your YOUR-O-Scopes:

http://www.humorscope.com )
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.