Showing posts with label Tennessee Williams. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tennessee Williams. Show all posts

Monday, August 11, 2014

Kick her right in the Coriolanus






Hello, Ducks!




Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s! Daily! Horoscope! for JustAnotherMedicinalMarijuanaMonday, August Ellebenst, 2014.




Happy birthday to James, who turns twenty-four today all the way down in MaryLand.  Which, were We (subjunctively) to show you a picture of this fine strapping example of virile Leonine masculinity, you would find an odd geographic place name for his habitat.



(James is also a Shakespearean actor, and We are trying (albeit failing) to work in the phrase “skilled in the use of his broadsword” in some bawdy euphemistic way.  So just pretend We did that, and let’s move on, ‘kay?)



Happy belated birthday, meanwhile, to Daniel and Danny, and Maribeth and Mary Jo, and Dylan, all of whom turned twenty-four this past weekend.  (And several of whom sound as though they might be the same person, although they are all completely different people, one as far away as Tennessee.  



(Tennessee, in case you were unsure, is one of the fifty states, much like Denial, Confusion, and Flux.  It is a few letters shy of having a cute song to spell it out with, a la Mississippi.  (To wit, em-eye-ess-ess-eye-ess-ess-eye-pee-pee-eye.  (Heh…she said “pee-pee”.))))




(The preceding paragraph is notable as the first time in living history that anyone anywhere has ever used the phrase “a la Mississippi”.)




In other news, We have moved into the sign of Leo, which contains, amongst other things, the highest percentage of sexxxy-assz mens in the zodiac (see all of the preceding).  Our Leo video is above, and here is the link with which you may Cher it with your friends: http://youtu.be/6kCzNp1JtDo



In other other news, being The Queen Of All Social Media, We recently reconnected with a Lovely And Talented Gentleman with whom We once did a show some fifteen years ago.  (We were both nine at the time.  (It was children’s theater.  (With a great deal of nudity.))) So thanks, SitOnMyFaceBook!



If you’ve been a Faithful Gentle Reader over the past week or so (as opposed to a Faithful Naked Skimmer (which is okay too)), you will notice the sudden absence today of any complaining, or mention of gentlemen’s nuts.  You’re welcome.



Our celebrity birthday website informs Us that today is McDonna’s son, Rocco Ritchie’s birthday, and that he is fourteen.  No word on what the equivalent in human years is.  (Oh, no, she di-int! (Oh, yes, she DID!))




And now, it being oh-so-much later than We think, here, in lieu of call-and-response with AssHatted Ass(tromalogical) Ho(roscopulist) Kelli, is a reading from Madame Olivia:



Greetings Starzina ~




A warm welcome back to Madame Olivia.

In the realm of getting stuff done, Madame Olivia has a fabulous concept that she herself invokes: Be your own project manager! This means going beyond just jamming as much onto a list as possible but rather taking a good chunk of time to plan what you're going to do when. It is human nature to underestimate how much time things will take but if you seriously get into your project manager persona you can plan and organize better and you will Get More Done. Guaranteed.

Now, dear Aries, let's take a look at something that's going to present itself to you. It's looking like a challenge and though Madame Olivia knows you generally like a challenge, in all honesty she would simply pass this one up. It's just not going to be worth it and could well add needless complication. A word to the wise.

Word for thought: desire

Good-bye for now. Warmest wishes from Madame Olivia until we meet again.




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!)

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

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, October 17, 2012

Can you read my mind?




Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for WinesDay, October 17, 2012.  Happy birthday to Our Aunt B, who turns twenty-four today in the vicinity of Hershey, PA (where the chocolate comes from).  In honor of her birthday, the Hershey Company announced this today: http://philadelphia.foobooz.com/2012/10/16/because-too-much-is-never-enough-tastykake-and-hersheys-together-at-last/ which, We warn you, you will get cavities just from reading.

And Happy Hump Day to any of the rest of you who haven’t slipped into a sugar coma.

We are a wee tad confused Our Own Self this morning, having somehow managed to sleep all the way through the night without waking up at all, which absolutely never happens.  AND We didn’t wet the bed!  WINNING!

In other news, the dinner theatre murder mystery We are writing continues apace.  Yesterday, We got all the way up to killing someone.  Unfortunately, in dinner theatre terms, that only takes Us up to the soup course. Also, We probably can’t kill anyone else, lest We limit Our list of suspects too severely.  Somehow, We suspect Tennessee Williams didn’t encounter these problems.

Meanwhile, the following is less than two weeks away:
The WaitStaff’s Halloween Match Game Extravaganza!

 The Real Housewives of South Philly join host Gene Rayburn and the usual assortment of ding-a-lings for a kreepy, kooky, mysterious and spooky, altogether ooky Halloween edition of The Match Game!

Friday and Saturday, October 26 & 27, and Wednesday, October 31 (that's Halloween!)  All shows are at 7:30.





Speaking of complete non sequiturs (as opposed, presumably, to the incomplete kind), here is last year’s Libra video to compare with this year’s (see above):





Here’s the HorrorScope:

But first, for a little birthday perspective (since most of you are unacquainted with Our Aunt B), today both Eminem and Wyclef Jean turn forty.  Also, both Margot Kidder and George Wendt (Norm from Cheers) turn sixty-four.  Here in Our little corner of the world, of course, We are doing twenty-four until We get it right.

You need to deal with an issue that just isn’t going away (Those dirty rings!  You’ve tried scrubbing them out, you’ve tried soaking them out, and you can still come out with Ring Around The Collar.)

(Who remembers those commercials?  (We bet Margot Kidder and George Wendt do.) Why didn’t that poor woman tell her pig of a husband to wash his fucking neck?)

— even though you don’t fully understand it yet.  (Of course, if your laundry is talking to you, you’ve probably got worse problems than a husband who doesn’t bathe properly.)

Things are getting pretty weird, (And yet, somehow We manage to avoid conversing with clothing.  Go figger.)

but as long as you’re honest with yourself, you should be fine. (Funny you should mention.  Just yesterday, We caught Ourself lying to Us.   Fortunately, We overheard Our chemise telling Our dickey the truth.)

(What?)

You’ve been cruising along nicely in the fast lane lately, but today you might want to ease over to the slow side of the road. (Okay, We’re going to stop now.  We don’t want to run out of funny before We get to the next act of the murder mystery. (Maybe some talking underwear would spice the thing up.))

Too much is going on, (And not enough is coming off.)

and there is some exciting stuff you’re going to miss out on if you are not careful!  (That’s what the camisole said.)

(Having just gone back to re-read that, We are fairly certain that it will never replace “that’s what she said”.  Oh, well.)

Sure, it’s nice to have a lot going on in your life, (But if you have to turn on the washing machine to drown out the voices, it’s time to admit you might have a problem.)

(There is a Wisk™-and-soda joke right on the tip of Our tongue, but We just can’t quite get it out.)

but sometimes it’s just as nice to step on the brakes and take a more leisurely route to where you are going.  (Okay, Comcast just robo-called Us to tell Us that a bunch of channels are changing their numbers.  Seriously, the PHONE is how you choose to share this?  Because We’re going to REMEMBER that you told Us that Channel 7 is now Channel 52, and Channel 36 is now Channel 11?  You’ve not heard of, say, EMAIL?)

(AssHats.)

The landscape is lovely in your life right now (The portrait in the attic, on the other hand, looks like Margot Kidder’s vagina.)

— why not take a longer look?  (Are you kidding?  Even Margot Kidder can’t stand looking at Margot Kidder’s vagina.  Talk about Ring Around The Collar.)

(See how effortlessly We weave all the themes together? Like a well-woven woven weaving thing.)

Your words are weapons — when you don’t want to get close, you just open up your mouth and yak, yak, yak.  (Well, that’s better than ox, ox, ox.  Or buffalo, buffalo, buffalo.)

(Do the bunny hop. Hop, hop, hop.)

Unavailable much? (Also, unavailable mulch.)

(Channel 58 is now Channel 14 and a half.  Channel 37 is Margot Kidder’s vagina.)

(We just mistyped that as “vaguina”.  Which, naturally, reminded Us of the Tennessee Williams play, Night of the Vaguina.  Which is on Channel 8 tonight at 9. Or Channel 9 tonight at 8.  One of those.)

 Don’t hide behind a wall of verbiage. (Indeed not.  Walls of verbiage are so 70s rec room.  Hide behind a wall of Margot Kidder’s vaguina.)

Instead, silence yourself. (We shall have to.  We’re pretty sure We just ran out of the funny.)

Intimacy lies in the absence of noise and the warmth of bed. (That’s exactly what the culottes said to the sweater vest.)


(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.
                                                                                                                                    


Friday, January 6, 2012

Lucy in the sky with diamonds


Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for ThankGawdIt’sFriedEggsBecauseWhenIt’sFriedEggsYouKnowHowManyYou’reGettingAsOpposedToScrambledEggsWhereTheyCanCheatYou, January 6, 2012.  Happy belated birthday to Ken, who turned twenty-four yesterday in San Francisco, where Tony Bennett left his heart.  Which seems to Us a wanton disregard for vital organs, which is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things.  Also, happy Feast of the Epiphany, which, prior to the Electronic Information Age was just the Plain Old Piphany, but We already had this discussion the other day as regards “epistle”, so We’re not having it again.

Apparently, Our stream of consciousness has turned into a tsunami.  William Faulkner must be rolling in Tennessee Williams’s grave.  (People always say that as though it were (subjunctively) a bad thing, but We are pretty sure that, if We were (again, subjunctively) dead, rolling in Our grave would make a nice change.  Because what exactly else would We have to do?)

Our apologies to anyone out there who knows dead people.  Meanwhile, We have just this minute minted a brand spanking (ooooohhh!!!) new expression, “bowling in his (or her) grave”.  As in, “Did you see the new production of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof with Harvey Fierstein as Maggie?  Tennessee Williams must be bowling in his grave.”  We know it is brand spanking new because when you Google “bowling in his grave” on Wikipedia, you only get five hits. (Now you will get six, because one of them will be this e-pistle to the Fierstinians.  Isn’t that exciting? We have changed the course of linguistic history quite cunningly.) When you Google “bowling in HER grave” on Wikipedia, you don’t get ANY hits. Which seems to Us quite sexist, and is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things With Vaginas.

No, We have no idea what We’re talking about, but thank you for asking.

In still other news, We would tell you where We were yesterday morning that prevented Us from e-pistling on you, but We don’t like to jinx such things, so you’ll just have to wait.  (The phrase “just have to wait in Kuwait” just leapt unbidden into Our mind, much like Aretha Franklin springing forth from Zeus’s forehead.  Which is quite a pixture, especially if you imagine her in the hat she wore to President Obama’s inauguration.)

Vacation time shares are still available in Our mind for both January and February.  The skiing is lovely this time of year, except for the fact that it’s all uphill.

Speaking of Aretha Franklin’s hat, go watch this:


 And share it with your friends:


Once again, Charlene Tilton finds herself in extremely lofty company.  Alternatively, The HorrorScope:

You’re feeling pretty chilled today  (It is JANUARY.  Fucking DUH.)

— and your life should be pretty easy, (Also breezy and beautiful.  Because We are a Covered Girl.  Much like a Covered Wagon, only several orders of magnitude larger.)

so it’s the perfect time to kick back (We can only kick back if someone kicks Us in the first place. (We shall leave the location of said place up to Your Fertile Imagination.  Which you will find next to your Fertile Crescent Rolls.)

and dream up new ideas. (What have We been doing all damn morning?)

If you like, you may find that socializing is quite fruitful.  (So you’ve met Our friends, then?)

 A tantalizing but succinct announcement will leave you desperate for more information.  (“Tantalizing but succinct”?  Look what bitch done got a-hold of a Roget’s Thesaurus.)

So what should you do about this rousing mystery?  (We’re voting for “call the Hardy Boys and have a threesome”.)

(Didn’t see THAT coming, didja?)


Absolutely nothing.  (“Absolutely nothing” is not a sentence.   But Absolutely Fabulous  is a television show.)

Just sit tight and wait for things to develop on their own schedule — which could be quite leisurely. (If One sits tight long enough, One will eventually poop diamonds.  Which are a girl’s best friend.)

But in the meantime, feel free to have some fun imagining the possible effects on your future.  (Pooping diamonds on Uranus.  (We would like to point out at this juncture that this is Our brain NOT on drugs.  Any questions?))

Today, don’t worry about having unrealistic expectations.  (But We’re not expecting….was that a fat joke?)

Just let yourself dream big!  (It WAS!  It WAS a fat joke!)

 If you feel like the last kid picked for the kickball team, you’re right on track. (Make up your mind.)

(That there?  Was a little sports joke.  Very little.)

Don’t take it personally, though. (Oh, okay.)

 It isn’t about ability or popularity, it’s more about availability. (And popability.  Do you pop out at parties?  Are you unpoopular?)

 If you’re not putting yourself front and center, it’s no wonder you’re light on invitations. (But We have all these diamonds…)



 (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.


Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Shirley, Shirley, Bo Birley, Banana Fana Fo Firley



Greetings, Ethiopians Retroactively Impeach Chimpanzee---


Here is your horoscope for Wednesday, May 19, 2010 (Today’s Eric’s Daily Horoscope Pixture Du Jour Au Jus Georges Pompidou Madame Pompadour Pomp et Circumstance is clearly from the We Will Do Anything For A Laugh Department. We will give you three more chances to see just exactly how We got Ourselves into this particular picklish predicament: tonight and Thursday, May 19th and 20th at 8PM or Sunday, May 23rd, at 7PM at L'Etage Cabaret at 6th and Bainbridge Streets. The Mother Of All Sketch Comedy Shows. You can get tickets here. NOW. (Here’s a hint: it involves Tennessee Williams, and an orangutan. Because We? Do classy sketch comedy.))


(Our Our-O-Scope.)


Your great energy (Have We met?)


inspires you to try some new physical activity, (Let’s get physical, physical…)


be it exercise, play or something creative. (How do you spell “horizontal mambo”? (Actually, the phrase “how do you spell…” doesn’t work so well in writing, because by the time you’re asked to answer the question, We’ve already shown you how We spell whatever it is, and, presumably, We have spelled it correctly. So, like most human endeavor, asking said question in writing is utterly futile. Sigh.))


It’s a great time to work toward better fitness, if that appeals to you. (Oh, silly Us! Here We were, working Our way toward better FATness. In fact, We venture to say We have worked Our way to the BEST fatness. (“Fatness” is a peculiar word, no? We were all prepared for Micro$oft Weird™ to deny its very wordiness. Until We remembered the Fat Ness Monster. AKA Kirstie Alley.))


It’s just one of those crazy days (It is, isn’t it? In fact, it’s like the whole d@mn week went off its meds.)


— the kind when anything can happen! (Except never to Us.)


You’re always game for the unexpected, (There’s just nothing like a good Spanish Inquisition. (Actually, their omelettes aren’t bad, either.))


especially if it involves some thrills, (Also, frills, pills, and espadrilles.)


(What?)


and you can smell the excitement in the air when you wake up. (I love the smell of Maypo™ in the morning. (That, of course, is the famous quote from the fillum Apocalypse Now. It is unclear to Us why he said “Maypo™”, although he is obviously not the sort of character to be enamored of Cream of Wheat™. Always after me Lucky Charms™; they’re plastically suspicious.))


Following your bliss has never really been a problem — for you, anyway. (Hey, who p1ssed on Our bliss?)


Still, how do you identify the right bliss to follow? (Wait…there’s more than one?)


The right answer could clear up a whole bunch of troublesome romantic puzzles. (Jigsaw or crossword? (There’s actually a pretty funny joke in there, but setting it up would be positively exhausting. So We’re gonna pass. Because what have YOU done for US lately?))


(Your YOUR-O-Scopes:






http://www.humorscope.com




I am a cowgrass banana, and I’m here to say, I am the best banana in the world today)