I put a spell on you…

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s!Periodic!Horoscope! for JustAnotherManiacallyManicuringManlyManateesInManchurianMantillasMonday,  June Fifteenf, 2015.

Oh, Our dears, We have so many things to tell you!  Now that We do not e-pisstlize every single day, We find Ourself storing up tantalizing tidbits to share with Our Gentle Readers until We could just burst!  We feel just like a pus-filled pimple, prior to poppage, Poppets! (That there was a poetic werd pixture We painted just for you.  (You’re welcome.))

So lettuce get right to it, shall We?  Happy birthday to The Lovely And Talented Owen, who is being wished a Happy Birthday in these hallowed pages for His Very First Time.  (That’s why We’re being so gentle.)  Unlike Our other birthday celebrators, he does not even turn twenty-four today.

Happy birthday also to Robert, who DOES turn twenty-four today, in, We believe, Wilmington.

And, last but not Lee Strasberg, Happy Birthday to Our very Own Mike Doh, who also turns twenty-four today, in, of all places, Utah.   Where, it being Equity Day Off, We picture him sitting with one hand on the remote and one hand down his Magic Underpants, binge-watching episodes of My Favorite Mormon.

(Actually, that’s pretty much the way We ALWAYS picture him, but don’t tell him We said that.)

And now, because it takes absolutely no provocation whatsoever for Us to whip this out (heh), here is the video We were in with the aforementioned birthday boy:

And now, We shall say “and now” again.  Also, 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 James, Peter, Doug…

…Doug, We feel compelled to point out, shares a birthday with Our future ex-husband Johnny Depp.  Also, We have been meaning to share the following video with you, and, as We think the star thereof bears some resemblance to Doug, now is as good a time as any. (The video is Safe For Work, unless sobbing uncontrollably is frowned upon in your workplace):

…Happy Belated Birthday also to Kevin, and to David, and to David.  (We could have said “David” just the once there, but there are two Davids.  One is named Crawford, and the other performs as Joan Crawford.  They share the same birthday.)

Small world, innit?

Before We stray from the subject of birthday wishes, We realized in the course of writing this that, of the gentlemen wished Happy Birthdays above, We have seen exactly none  of them in their birthday suits.  

What the hell is up with that? All of you gentlemen whom We have NOT seen in your birthday suits, please send Us pixtures of the birthdays suits in question.

We are now, of course, in the sign of Gemini, Our video for which is above.  And here, because it is also brillllllliant, is Our original Gemini video, which was the very first video We made:

Here are the links with which you may share those videos with both of your friends: 

  http://youtu.be/Yj7enrUk6js

   https://youtu.be/YBwdacfn2Vk

(One of Our neighbors is having their carpets Stanley-Steemered™, and the noise is driving Us to distraction.)

And now, a few random odds and ends before We get to the major thrust (oooooh!) of today’s e-pissode:

This coming Sundee is Father’s Day (you’re welcome).  We received an email from some purveyor of Father’s Day-type gifts, with the subject line, “DAD LOVES FISHING!”  We had an unfortunate WTF?!? moment when We misread said subject line in a pornographic fashion.

(We’ll just pause here while you all sort that out for your own selves.)

From the Eric’s!Periodic!Horoscope! Health Department, here is this:

http://www.mcsweeneys.net/articles/purify-your-system-with-the-seven-day-chili-dog-cleanse

…also Safe For Work, until you begin to follow the advice therein.

In other news, is it just Us, or is every other damn person on SitOnMyFaceBook suddenly missing? For almost a damn month now, it seems like everybody’s gone missing, and that’s all anybody posts about. (Well, okay, there was a week of Caitlyn Jenner, and a week of the black lady who’s not really black, but other than that.)

How is it possible that so many grown-ass people have all gone missing at the same time?  It isn’t, that’s what.  We have ridden SEPTA, and We are here to tell you, ain’t nobody missing.

And yet, SitOnMyFaceBook yammers on…this one’s missing, that one’s missing, the other one’s missing…you would think the fucking Rapture had happened.  It’s like that Kirk Cameron movie, My Left Behind.

Speaking of Kirk Cameron’s behind, why do alleged heterosexuals like Kirk Cameron, Rick Santorum, Pat Robertson, etc., etc. go on and on about gay sex all the time?  Seriously…they talk about gay sex more than any ten gay people We’ve ever met. Wethinks the lady doth protest too much…Rick Santorum in particular wants it up the ass so bad, he’s got an application in to be a Muppet.

ThankYouVeryMuch, We’llBeHereAllWeek, DontForgetToTipYourWaitress.

Well, that escalated quickly, dinnit?

Now, onward and upward to today’s raison d’être:  We Watch Bad Movies So YouPeople Don’t Have To (You’re Welcome).

This past weekend, We took a break from Our binge-watching of the brilliant UK series, Skins, to catch up with the American cinematic cultural milestone that is Fifty Shades of Grey.

Wow, did it stink.

As there is no plot, you may forge boldly ahead even if you plan to torture yourself by viewing said fillum, as there will be no spoilers.

The song under the opening credits is “I Put A Spell On You”, sung by Annie Lennox. (Annie Lennox has taken shits that are sexier than this movie.)  Naturally, this song reminded Us of the fillum Hocus Pocus, which We had recently rewatched.  Bette Midler in Hocus Pocus is sexier than this movie.

We then meet Our protagonists, Christian Grey, and Anastasia (seriously) Somebody-Or-Another.  They each look as though they were chosen by a focus group, so unmemorable/unremarkable/inoffensive are their faces. As are their bodies (muscular but only so muscular, breasts perky but only so perky, etc.)…in fact, they each have only one distinguishing feature: his is his nipples, hers is her waist when her back is arched.

A focus group is sexier than this movie.

The major point of the whole thing is that Christian keeps trying to get Anastasia (seriously) to sign an S&M contract with him.  In order to persuade her, they boink a number of times, usually with her tied up (so the aforementioned back can arch), once while he taps her tushie with a riding crop.

As Jane Fonda says in 9 to 5, “I’m into M&Ms.”

M&Ms are sexier than this movie.

She never signs the contract.

Ooops…apparently, We lied about the spoilers.

The most fatal of the movie’s fatal flaws comes early on, when they introduce Anastasia’s (seriously) roommate, and Christian’s brother.  The roommate and the brother are hotter than Anastasia (seriously) and Christian by a factor of, oh, We don’t know, let’s say INFINITY, and they immediately start having an affair which happens ENTIRELY OFF-SCREEN.  To the point where, as One is contemplating the tepid slap-and-tickle that is supposed to pass for hot sex between Anastasia(seriously) and Christian, One cannot help but think, “One wonders what the roommate and the brother are up to…perhaps there is another movie entirely, where they get naked and read the phone book to each other.”

The phone book is sexier than this movie.

Because Anastasia(seriously) and Christian have ABSOLUTELY NO CHEMISTRY with each other. Apparently, they ran out of money for the focus group before it could tell them that. 

 Another thing they don’t have?  Genitalia.

Well, that’s not entirely true.  We do, just ONCE, mind you, glimpse the beginnings of Christian’s peen, as he takes of his clothes for the eleventy-kabillionth time.  The poor “actress” who “plays” Anastasia (seriously), however, for all the time she spends spread-eagled, clearly was born without a vagina.  Or perhaps, and this is more likely, her vagina was Photoshopped™ out, because all We can recall is wide ol’ big open spaces between her muscular (but not TOO muscular) thighs.

Photoshop™ is sexier than this movie.

So, in case you missed Our point, don’t see this movie.  Because We are sexier than this movie.

(You’re afraid now, aren’t you?)

Speaking of pornography, this just in:  We just got, in Our snail mail, a card from Playboy magazine.  They are offering Us a full year of their literary endeavor for a mere twelve dollars, “to attract readers with preferred demographics”.

We shit you not.

Moving on, didja know that We have been e-pisstling e-pissodes of these e-pisstles in one form or another since 2001?  Every scintillating e-pissode from 2005, for instance, (now TEN YEARS OLD) can be found in charming dead-tree format here: http://www.lulu.com/shop/eric-singel/erics-daily-horoscope-2005/ebook/product-17475744.html ?  

In celebrity birthday news, today is Our future ex-husband Neil Patrick Harris’s birthday.  Also, one of the Duggars was born today.  (Although One could pretty much say that ANY day, yes?)

Thank Gawd We didn’t stray from the point.

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

Namaste, MotherFuckers.

In gaseousness,

Starzina Starfish-Browne

 (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://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.

                                                                                                                                    

Springsteen, Madonna, way before Nirvana there was U2 and Blondie and music still on MTV

Greetings, Even Religious Incumbents Chortled---


Here is your horoscope for Saturday, January 23, 2010 (We weren’t even going to do this today, but then We woke up at the cr@ck of @ss, and were subsequently informed (via the WorldWideInterWebNetz…you don’t think We’d be writing this if there were someone here) that it is National Pie Day. So We didn’t want to let the day go by without wishing all y’all Happy National Pie Day, on the off chance that one of ya would get inspired to bring Us a pie. (Yes, We will accept pizza pie.)):


(Speaking of the WorldWideInterWebNetz, that joint is jumpin’ this AM, possibly to make up for its lack of activity this week. Thanks to OurShaun, who pointed out that, when all else fails, you should read the instructions, We will now be notified via email immediately when you make a comment on Our scrawlings here in Bloggonia, so comment away! (OurShaun is weekending in Berlin. Don’t’cha just love Europeans? We go to the Jersey shore for the weekend; they go to the South of France. You say “potato”, I say “vichyssoise”; you say “tomato”, I say “aspic”. Potato! Vichyssoise! Tomato! Aspic! This ain’t a very good song…))


(Before anyone complains, We are well aware that Berlin and the South of France are not the same place. We were waxing poetic. (Well, with one hand, anyway.) Also, We were distracted by being so impressed with Ourselves for spelling “vichyssoise” correctly on the very first try. (Meanwhile, how funny a word is “aspic”? Doesn’t mean at all what it sounds like it should mean, does it?))


(Also from the WorldWideInterWebNetz this morning, this bit of wisdom from a friend of a somewhat existential bent: No matter how high a duck can fly, you can always break a window with a hammer.)


(And finally, We betook Ourselves (well, MizGerreGarrett betook Us) to see the World Café yesterday. Oh, my dears! You will be beside your very selves when you come to see Our show on February 19th! (Well, actually you will hopefully be beside a whole lot of other people who have also come to see Our show. We were using a colorful figger of speech. (Which is, naturally, the polar opposite of a colorless jigger of bleach.)) The problem with their website is all cleared up, so toddle on over and make those reservations now: http://tickets.worldcafelive.com/eventperformances.asp?evt=3418 )


(Before We begin, We should also point out, for those of you who thought today’s pixture was a bad drag queen, that it is, in fact, an actual real live woman, attending, of all things, the Golden Globes (which always sounds like a t1tz joke to Us, but isn’t).)


Focus on keeping your home or work space uncluttered and productive -- you need less stress in your life! (Then stop using random interrobangs! To create a false sense of excitement! You cr@ck-addled c00zelick!)


Sometimes all it takes is a quick purge of unnecessary stuff to help you cope. (No, the quick purge is to help you DIET; recreational drugs are for coping. Jeebus.)


Feeling blue? (No. Chartreuse, with a cerise and puce border. (What kind of @sshole question was that?))


Thinking about how great it would be if a huge party would suddenly, magically arrive on your doorstep? (We will happily settle for one pizza delivery boi. With or without a pizza, if you receive Our meaning.)


Well, you do have certain options: (Yes, there’s ignorance, and then there’s apathy. We don’t know, and We don’t care.)


(Those of you who type as poorly as We do will no doubt not be stunned to learn that “igmornance” is not a word.)


You can arrange for a mini-break in the action -- and if you have someone who's game to play hooky with you, that might not be such a bad idea. (Honey, if We findz Ourseff somebody to play with, We ain’t gonna be playin’ no “hooky”. HookER, maybe, but not hooky.)


Aren't you due for a day off? (Hmmm. Possibly. Let Us just ring for the butler to bring Us a calendar…)


Think of it this way: Your mental health is just as important as your physical health. (In which case, We are Well And Truly Fu(ked. And not in a good way.)


So it's just as important to tend to it carefully. (Oh, so that’s why everybody keeps spreading “fertilizer” all over it? Metaphorically speaking, of course.)


Right? (The opposite of left is right; the opposite of right is wrong…so anyone who’s left is wrong…right?)


You're living in a material world, (And I am a material girl. (Oh, please…who wasn’t thinking that? (Does she still sing that song? Because We’re pretty sure “I am a material menopausal grandmother” wouldn’t scan properly…)))


and material things transmit certain messages. (Speaking (obviously very loosely) of singing, We chanced upon twenty seconds of The Haiti Hootenanny on television last night. Beyoncé (did We really just type “café” so We could steal its “e” and give Beyoncé her accent mark? Why, yes; yes, We did) was caterwauling about “I see your halo, Haiti”. Um, no. Falling victim to a natural disaster does not immediately catapult one to sainthood. (Nor, Pat Robertson, does it make one the devil, as you shall no doubt learn when you are finally consigned to your Very Special Place in H3ll.) Shut up, Beyoncé.)


(We just noticed that the last paragraph had both “caterwauling” and “catapult” in it. If We were (subjunctively) to replace “disaster” with “catastrophe”, all We would need would be a caterpillar piloting a catamaran. Thanks for everything, Julie Newmar.)


That doesn't make you shallow, though. (Oh, no, honey…We deep. REEEEAAALLL deep. In fact, you’re gonna wanna think about tying a two-by-four to yo’ @ss, or you might fall in.)


Think of matter as being a manifested spirit. (Also, think of Love as a Many-Splendored Thing. (What the fu(k are you talking about???))


What do the physical details about your new suitor say? (Dunno…We haven’t finished inflating him yet.)


(YOUR-O-Scopes:


http://www.humorscope.com


McCowgrass …over 5 billion served.)