Come on and take a free ride!

    

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for ThoroughlyModernMilliVanilli, March 8st, 2012. Happy International Women’s Day to all of Our Happy International Women readers.  And Happy Purim to all of Our Purimese readers.  Some of whom are, no doubt, also Happy International Women, so they actually get TWO holidays today.  We certainly hope they can withstand the excitement.

So We’re sure many of you are wondering why We missed Hump Day this week.  (Actually, We’re sure none of you are wondering, but We’re going to tell you anyway.  Because it is all?  About Us.) As part of our ongoing adventures with the American health care system (you know, the one the Republiklans insist isn’t broken), We had another visit to Our pediatrician scheduled.  We wrote it down and everything.  “March  7^th at 8:45AM”.  Imagine Our surprise when We arrived twenty-four hours early for said appointment, which it turns out was March 8^th.  And you thought Daylight Savings Time was confusing.  (By the way, that happens this weekend.  Wind your ass and scratch your Swatch™.)  Under normal circumstances, We would just have a good laugh at Our Own stupidity and move on (as you may well imagine, We can entertain Ourself for hours that way), but you will recall that this is the selfsame office staff who are incapable of using their own fax machine, so We suspect the error was not Our fault.

On the plus size…er, side, upon keeping said appointment this morning, We discovered that the weather outside is GAW-JUSS.  We are supposed to be writing a script today, but We may just have to go outside and frolic instead.  Also, We found Ourself a SEPTA Tranny Pass lying in the gutter, which has already saved Us the fare of Our ride home, and will save Us several more fares before it expires on Sunday.  Perhaps, instead of frolicking in Our Own neighborhood, We shall Tranny Pass Ourself away to town and frolic there.  The world is Our oyster.  Also, the Lord is Our shepherd.  What the fuck oysters need with a shepherd, We haven’t got any idea.

We just proofread this e-pisstle up to this point, and we feel We should clarify: when We said “We found Ourself a SEPTA Tranny Pass lying in the gutter”, We meant that the SEPTA Tranny Pass was lying in the gutter when We found it, not that We Our Own Self were lying in the gutter.  You probably already knew that, but We just wanted to be sure.

Speaking of comedy, Himself’s show is only one week away.  Do you have your tickets yet?  The WaitStaff are slaving and toiling, working their fingers to the boner to make this the most topical au courant pop-culture-fest ever.  Why, at the most recent rehearsal, Himself actually forced the words “Kirk Cameron” out of his lips. (Not that that was such a difficult feat…he’s been spewing Santorum for weeks.)The Real HouseWives of South Philly March Into Madness! is playing one night only, Tuesday, March 13 at 8PM at Helium Comedy Club:  https://www.seatengine.com/redesign/eventDetails.aspx?venueslug=helium-comedy-club&id=897

Meanwhile, poor Justin Bieber is distraught that HE is not appearing in the WaitStaff show.  Why’n’t’cha cheer him up by (A.) telling him it’s probably not done growing yet and (2.) going to watch his video: http://youtu.be/qqEjYYBFxG4  Also, We don’t seem to know anyone whose birthday is today.  But if you do, why’n’t’cha go post that link on their SitOnMyFaceBook page and brighten their day?  Not to mention Ours. KThxBye.

And now, Charlene Tilton’s International Women’s Day plans (trust Us, you really don’t want to know.) Alternatively, the HorrorScope:

 

Try not to get too far ahead of yourself today.  (Now We are confused…what if We try so hard not to get ahead of Ourself that We actually wind up behind Ourself…wouldn’t We then actually also be ahead of Ourself?)

 

(The Royal We is hard.)

 

(How many of you are now mentally composing a Royal Wiener joke?  How many are just picturing Prince Harry naked?)

 

(Perverts.)

 

Things are looking up for you, (Not up Our dress, We hope.  We are having that “not-so-fresh” feeling.)

 

but that just means you’ve got to take them more seriously — and that means slowing down and working it all out.  (But if We slow down, won’t We wind up behind Ourself, and then…oh, fuck it, it wasn’t that funny the first time.)

 

Too many details about where, who and why will be crowding your brain today, making it difficult to relax and just have a good time. (The hell you say…We have a free Tranny Pass.  We may just run amok.  Amok, amok, amok.)

 

Before things get too noisy inside your head, quiet the ruckus by distracting yourself. (Sorry…what?)

 

Spend some time with people you love to laugh with, and take plenty of time today to talk about lighthearted matters.  (The callous sophisticates laughed at Alice’s tiny head.)

 

(What?)

 

Forget about things you have no control over — by obsessing about things, you are sacrificing your strength.  (At least We can find Our strength to sacrifice…try sacrificing a virgin this days.)

 

(We just mistyped “virgin” as “virguin”.  Which is, presumably, an exceedingly unattractive penguin.)

 

Shake up your usual routine by doing something totally different.  (Us doing something?  Would be totally different.)

 

You never know who you might run into! (Oddly enough, that sounds more like a threat than a promise.)

 

 (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!)

                            

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

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.

I’m bringing sexy back

Greetings, Executive Reorder Inexplicably Countermanded---


(Those wacky, zany, madcap Chinamen and their “shave-the-red-headed-white-baby” fetish. Heh-heh-heh.)


Here is your horoscope for Monday, March 08, 2010 (We know what you’re thinking. (Oh, yes, We do. We are practically psychic, and We have Our finger on the pulse. (And no, your tighty-whiteys that say “Monday” on them are not deterring Us. Our pulse-seeking finger is intrepid.)) You are thinking, “How does One continue to live in a world in which Sandra Bullock has an Oscar™?” Naturally, We would not bring up your dilemma if We did not have the answer. (We would like to think We are capable of pretending to be kinder than that. At least in public.) And the answer is, you have already been living in a world in which Oscars™ are possessed by Goldie Hawn, Kim Basinger, and Cher. So, although at first you were afraid, you were petrified, We suspect you will survive.):


(We Our Own Selves Personally did not watch the G@y Super Bowl. We were busy cinematically experiencing an indie film called The Open Road, starring Mister Justin Timberlake. (It also starred Mister Jeff Bridges, so, see, topical.) There are spoilers ahead, boyzzz and gurrlllzzz, so, if you’re planning a Justin Timberlake film festival any time soon, you may want to skip to the next paragraph. First off, a synopsis (like your scr0tum, here it is in a nutshell): Minor League Baseball Player Mister Timberlake needs to collect his estranged alcoholic ex-baseball player father, Mister Bridges, from somewhere across the country and bring him to see his ex-wife, Mister Timberlake’s mother, Miss Mary Steenburgen aka Mrs. Ted Danson, who is dying of Old Movie Disease. (She is not Mrs. Ted Danson in the fillum, she is Mrs. Ted Danson in real life. Which is only important to this story in that she apparently had it in her contract that, if she put on Old Movie Disease makeup for these people, they would give her husband a role. So Mister Danson plays Mister Timberlake’s coach in one scene, thereby depriving some actor who really needed the paycheck of work.) There is also some random young actress thrown into the mix to play Mister Timberlake’s girlfriend and thereby demonstrate that Mister Timberlake’s character is Not G@y, but she’s not important because they never have a s3x scene and who the h3ll makes a Justin Timberlake fillum and doesn’t make him take his clothes off? You can tell you’re watching a really cheap indie fillum because there’s only about enough script for A Very Special Episode Of Blossom, so they fill out their ninety minutes with a lot of shots of Mister Timberlake’s red Hummer (no, really) hurtling down various American highways. Said shots being cheap because there are no actors in them.)


(If you cannot predict each and every scene of this cinematic epic, especially the denouement, you have apparently never watched an American movie. Or a General Foods International Coffee™ commercial. Since We were blissfully unhampered by having to pay any attention to the “plot” or the dialogue, We were able to focus on a whole bunch of more interesting things (We are pretty sure We saw a scene where grass grew.) First off, We should mention Mister Harry Dean Stanton. Now, We realize that many of you will not recognize his name, but trust Us, you would Know Him If You Saw Him, as he has been in every fillum made since 1929, with the possible exception of The Women. (That there was a little cinematic joke for Our fellow cinephiles. The Women, you see, didn’t have any men in it.) In this particular instance, Mister Stanton played Miss Steenburgen’s father, but that’s not the point. The point is, We looked him up, and he’s eighty-three years old, BlessHisHeart. Ya know how they say that, as you get older, everything shrinks except the cartilage in your ears and nose, which continues to grow? Well, judging by the size of Mister Stanton’s ears, he’s getting ready for the remake of Dumbo. We’re just sayin’.)


(Also in the fillum in a minor role was Mister Lyle Lovett, who, as far as acting goes, is a pretty good country singer. He is also ten of the least attractive men you will ever see, although We have a special place in Our heart for him, as he was once married to Miss Julia Roberts (yet another Oscar™ winner), and it gives Us great pleasure to think of him banging her like an old screen door.)


(Speaking of Mister Lovett (and, parenthetically (hence the parentheses), throughout all of Sweeney Todd, they never seem to do that), it is during the scene that he shares with Mister Timberlake that the latter’s lack of histrionic powers becomes painfully evident. (We were already presuming Mister Lovett’s lack of histrionic powers, but then, nobody was making him the star of a movie.) Seems Mister Bridges et. al. were carrying Mister Timberlake during most of their scenes. Who knew? Especially since the major emoting required of Mister Timberlake was to brood in a romantically appealing fashion. Now, clearly Mister Timberlake keeps hisself in fine physical shape; even in the Costumes-by-WalMart that were on display here, his fine physique was evident. And We know from other sources that he has more body art than the Rosetta Stone has hieroglyphics (although why they weren’t showing them here is a mystery to Us). Presumably, he cannot help his unfortunate hair, but, at any rate, he has almost all the prerequisite attributes of a first-class romantically-appealing brooder. So why, oh, why didn’t someone send him to a speech teacher so he could stop sounding like Liberace’s hairdresser?)


(Whew! That’s a lotta stuff about fillum! Good thing the Oscars™ only happen once a year! (So did Mister Bridges thank Mister Timberlake in his acceptance speech, or what?))


(Our-O-Scope…)


Anyone who happens to get in your way right now will be bulldozed, trampled and otherwise made to believe that they are not an obstacle worthy of you. (What’s that? An actual insight? Who are you, and what have you done with Kelli?)


Great. (Ah, the old “one-word sentence” trick. Two can play at that game. Aardvark. Rutabaga. Indubitably. See? Simple. @sshat.)


Now help them up and apologize. (We are so very, very sorry that you were stupid enough to try to get in Our way. Howzat?)


Chances are, (Johnny Mathis is a f@g?)


they really weren't out to trip you up deliberately. (A likely story. Of a lovely lady. Who was bringing up three very lovely girls. All of them had hair of gold. From a bottle…)


(Sorry.)


Restraining yourself may be tough, (You think that’s tough, try getting a restraining order against yourself. It’ll say something like “you have to stay five hundred feet away from yourself at all times”, and then won’t you just be in a pickle?)


but it will definitely be easier than the apologies you'll need to make if you let it fly. (We went the whole way back through this horoscope, and that “it” has no antecedent. Grammar Police, lady; you’re under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say will be pointed at and mocked for the illiterate gibberish of a retard that it is.)


Hold your breath, if need be. (Can’t We hold other people’s breath instead? We like when they turn blue.)


(YOUR-O-Scopes:


http://www.humorscope.com


wow…atsa spicy cow-a-grass)