Showing posts with label Bea Benaderet. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bea Benaderet. Show all posts

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Like a bridge over troubled water




Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for ToozDee, May 29, 2012.  Happy birthday to Michael, who turns twenty-four today.  We have no idea if he even knows of the e-xistence of these e-pisstles, but better chafed than snarly.

Several recent events have brought to Our attention the fact that We may need to begin building a bridge with which to get over Ourself.  However, prior to commencing said construction, We must just congratulate Ourself on this weekend’s e-pissodes, both of which We thought were e-xemplary.  If you were unable to e-njoy them in their e-ntirety the first time around, because you were, say, on a Haitian vacation, We suggest you go and peruse them now.  We’ll wait here.

(That e-hyphen thing really is a-nnoying, i-sn’t i-t?)

This morning’s coffee is displeasing to Us.

One wonders, if One is already building Oneself a bridge, if it would be that much more difficult to also build Oneself an attention span, because…oh, look, a sparkly balloon!

We clearly got nothin’.  Of course, every day can’t bring a buttocksian pimple or Ryan Gosling.  In a desperate e-ffort to spice up this morning’s proceedings, We just went looking for today’s E-rix Daily Horoscope Pixture Du Jour Au Jus Leave The Driving To Us.  (It occurs to Us that it must be very jarring for Our Frawnch-speaking readers when We rhyme “Jus” with “Us”, making Us wonder if they read it as “Pixture Du Jour Au Juss Leave The Driving To Us” or as “Pixture Du Jour Au Zhoo Leave The Driving To Oooo”.)  #CrazyPeopleProblems

Yes, people, that was a hashtag.  We are leaping boldly into the new decade; deal with it.

What were We talking about?  Oh, today’s pixture.  It did not aid Us in Our e-fforts to be e-ntertaining.  However, We are clearly gonna need a bigger bridge.

Speaking of e-ntertaining,  the WaitStaff will be playing The Match Game again by popular demand on Thursday, June 7 and Friday, June 8, at 7:30 at L’Etage at 6th & Bainbridge.  Did We mention that, the first time We played, a number of people came back for more than one performance?  Well, We did now.  Reservations are strongly suggested, and can be obtained here:  http://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/250950  Find more info on Our SitOnMyFaceBook event here:  http://www.facebook.com/events/429387893745900/  Be there or be square.

Meanwhile, here We are just recovering from Sicily Yoder’s birthday festivities, and now We have to celebrate Annette Bening’s birthday.  Will the whirlwind never stop?


Here’s  the HorrorScope:

Slow down and take all your tasks one at a time. (Oh, Honey.  We are fairly certain that the only thing slower than We are is death.)

You need to make sure that you’re able to manage all of your business before scampering off to start something new.  (Okay, even if you are A Gentle Reader who has never met Us, there is no universe in which you can possibly imagine that We “scamper”.)

Just chill out.  (Just fuck off.)

(If We seem distracted, it is because, ever since that first line about “slow”, We have been mentally singing the Petticoat Junction  theme song, specifically the part about “that Was Uncle Joe, he was movin’ kinda slow at the Junction”, and We realized that, while We have an entire brain cell devoted to Bea Benaderet, We haven’t got any idea who the hell the actor was who played Uncle Joe.  And, now that We’ve Googled him on Wikipedia and discovered that his name was Edgar Buchanan, We realize that We completely don’t care.)

(It is not easy being Us.)

(That bridge, she is going to need to be the Golden Gate.  Also, she must span The River Kwai.)

Just because some other people are huffing and puffing through the day doesn’t mean you have to join the crazy rat race!  (Well, DUH.  Who wants to race against crazy rats?)

Do not let their hysteria or anxiety force you to second-guess the way you’ve chosen to live your life.  (Wait…We get another guess?)

Right now, going at your own pace is more important than ever.  (Any less pace and We’d be going backwards.)

Take your time today, and linger wherever and whenever you want to linger. (Also, finger wherever and whenever you want to finger.  (See how, right away, Our way is more fun?))

(That bridge, she is going to need to be Gina Lollobrigida.)

There is no race to win — there is only a journey to enjoy.  (Oh, goody.  Kelli’s resorted to Chinese fortune cookies now.  Shouldn’t that sentence end “in bed”?)

Make an effort to be more positive. (That’ll never work.)

(Heh.  SWWDT?)

 It’s easy to sink into pessimistic thoughts, but in the long run you’ll be worse off than before.  (ExACTly.  (Seriously…see what she said?))

There’s always someone else who has it rougher. (Said the porn star wearing the sandpaper condom.)



(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!)
                            
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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, July 1, 2011

O, can a duck…


                                 
 Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Fried Egg Friday Frito Lay Fay Wray, July 1th, 2011.  We have recovered from yesterday’s malaise.  That’s the power of Pine Sol™, Bay-Bee.  Also the power of a most excellent rehearsal.  This show is gonna be hotter than a half-fucked fox in a forest fire.  (We cannot claim to have invented that saying; We stole it from the WorldWideInterWebNetz this morning.  But We do seem to have encountered it before…can anyone tell Us if it occurs in some piece of litter-chore We might have encountered in Our cultural travels?)

So Happy Canada Day to Our Canadian readers, eh?  And Happy Canada Dry™ to the rest of you, because, hey, it’s Happy Hour somewhere, no?  Also, Happy Birthday to Our many WorldWideInterWebNetzian friends who are turning twenty-four today, and tomorrow, and Sunday, and Monday, most notably Ryan, Jennifer, and Tom Cruise.  (Say it with Us, Gentle Reader MizJill: “Tom Cruise is one fucked-up motherfucker.”)  We apparently know very few people born early in Cancer, but, as We near the middle of the sign, babies are flying out of cooters like litters of puppies.  What the hell is nine months before the 4th of July, anyway?

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, litters of puppies in oceans of cooters…these are a few of Our favorite things…ah, The Sound of Muzak, The Sound of Muzak!  If you look backstage, the nuns and the Nazis are all the same people.

So if We know all these Cancer babies, you must know a lot of ‘em too…why not make their birthdays extra-special by sending them Starzina’s Time Of The Month Horoscope: Cancer video, which can be found right here http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p3cqsTuxavM  ?  That’s what friends are for.  (Kiss Us quick, We’re Dionne Warwick.  (Oh, yes, We are…We’re psychic.))

And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for…Prince Harry’s lemur impression.  Or, barring that, The HorrorScope:

(Micro$oft Weird™ is objecting to “Harry’s”…how the hell else would it like Us to indicate the possessive form of “Harry”?  Perhaps a little song in his honor, from the one and only (thank god) Carmen Miranda:

  )

Your emotional side is in some serious disrepair — but today is the day to fix it up! (Suddenly, We feel exactly like an episode of This Old House.)

You should be at your best handling old traumas and healing old relationships, so get to it ASAP!  (Who you callin’ old?  Just because today’s celebrities are Fay Wray, Dionne Warwick, Carmen Miranda, and Tom Cruise…We know who Justin Bieber is!  And We own TWO Katy Perry records…or are they eight-track tapes?  AND We know that the middle Jonas Brother is the gay one. (That was Brother Joe, he was movin’ kinda slow at the Junction…(STOP THAT!  We do NOT need to mention Bea Benaderet.  (DAMMIT!))))

There are some outdated ideas (Watch it, Bee-Yotch.)

or habits that are holding you back right now, and today they will create a conflict between the way your life is now and the way you want it to be in, say, five years.  (Five years?  FIVE YEARS?!?  Why, We’ll be Carmen Miranda’s grandmother by then!)

There’s no need to make a big decision about things right away, (We’ll decide that for Our Own Self.  (Heh. See what We did there?))

but you will need to be prepared to make a sacrifice when the time comes. (Fine…send Us a virgin.  Oh, look:  Justin Bieber!)

Don’t worry, though — it should be obvious what you need to leave behind — it’s the least important element of your life right now.  (Poverty? Chastity?  Sanity?)

Dig up an old family recipe and cook yourself a sweet taste of home. (Does Our fat ass make Our ass look fat?)

Don’t be too shocked if the aroma convinces a cute neighbor to stop by.  (Clearly, you have not seen where We live.)

Make sure you invite them in! (Why?  Do they do housework?)


(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.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?

Greetings, Episcopalian Reincarnated Into Confucianist---


Here is your horoscope for Sunday, Sunday, Sunday (sorry), March 21, 2010 (Happy birthday to anybody whose birthday it is. We don’t think We know anybody personally who’s having a birthday today, but We sure wish We did, because mmmm….cake.):


(Actually, We haven’t even had Our coffee yet. But, before We do, We would like to draw your attention to the commentary section of Eric’s Daily Horoscope here in Bloggonia. Yesterday’s subject line (“Just panties…what else do I need?”) caused Our Sistah Ovella and Us to wax nostalgic (but, fortunately, not bikini wax nostalgic, which can be dangerous (or wax the carrot nostalgic, which is just plain rude)) in the commentary section about the greatest movie ever made. Which is, of course, The Poseidon Adventure. (What did you think We were gonna say…Citizen Kane? Some fat guy in black and white…what’s so great about that?) “Just panties…what else do I need?” is, of course, a line of dialog from said film, spoken by The One And Only Stella Stevens, and, as such, would seem to violate the Eric’s Daily Horoscope time-honored tradition of using song lyrics as the subject line. But au contraire mon frère Frigidaire Sonny and Cher, it is ALSO a song lyric, courtesy of Our Chicagogonian friends who created Poseidon! An Upside-Down Musical. Herewith is a video for said song, which is safe for work, as long as “panties” are safe at your work (and, if not, what are you doing at work on Sunday with no panties on? Slut.)):







(There. Now wasn’t THAT a d@mn sight better than church? At any rate, if it hadn’t occurred to Us to point this out to all y’all, you’d have totally missed out on it if you don’t also at least read the commentary section. H3ll, We were sure that, by this point, y’all would be commenting up a storm and talking amongst yourselves. (Or maybe you ARE, and you’re doing it all behind Our back(s)…after all, it’s not paranoia if they ARE all out to get you.))


(Speaking of fillums, We fell asleep last night in the middle of (500) Days of Summer , in which Joseph Gordon Levitt, whom We usually love, has a really boring affair with some dull chick which is told totally out of chronological order. Which might be interesting if said affair lasted, say, two weeks, but it lasted for the titular (heh…We love that word) 500 days, and the time-jumps were indicated by on-screen titles: Day 379…Day 12…Day 351…wait, was that third scene before or after the first one???...so You never really knew (or, after a while, cared) where You were.)


(This little impromptu nappy-poo toodle-oo Kalamazoo may have impacted Our sleep during the night, when We kept being awakened by bizarre dreams. In the first, We were able to fly. Not the usual dream, wherein One flies like Superman, but instead with giant wings sticking out of Our back. The Sainted Mother was beginning to get annoyed with Us flying around the house, so she promised to take Us outside for flying lessons. But she made it very clear that We could only fly ten times a day. Although she never explained what would happen if We tried to fly eleven.)


(In the next dream, We were sleeping, for some reason, on a cot at the EAC. (This dream, no doubt, was a flash-forward to Our eventual homelessness.) It seemed like a perfectly good idea, until We discovered that a whole lot of people apparently worked the night shift. So We decided that We should probably get dressed (oh, yes, We were nekkid), which would mean retrieving Our clothes from the men’s room, where We had foolishly left them unattended. We woke up from this dream as We picked up Our pants, just knowing that there was no longer a wallet in them.)


(That was 5:30AM. Now it’s 9:30, and We’re finally having coffee. Is some d@mn birthday cake out of the question???)


(Our Our-O-Scope.)


Touchy? (Touché?)


You? (Moi?)


No way. (Fermez la Bouche, Touché Toupee.)


You may, (Mais oui…(heh. Didn’t see that last one coming, didja? That concludes Our little French lesson for today. We love the French. They invented all the best stuff…mustard, doors, kissing. Toast, dressing, fries. Bread, braids, drains. Horns, connections, the Foreign Legion. Not to mention that cartoon skunk. (No, seriously…don’t mention him. Zey hate zat.)))


however, be a teeny bit moody, cranky or oversensitive -- but certainly not touchy. (Moody, Cranky, Oversensitive, Touchy…these are but a few of the Seven Dwarves in the Snow White remake by Woody Allen.)


Unfortunately, (See, when a sentence starts out like that, ya just know no good can come of it. So let’S just skip to the next one, shall We?)
the rest of the world may not be quite so astute at differentiating between these subtleties.


Be nice, (Also, Be A Clown, Bea Benaderet, Beanie and Cecil.)


(YOU thought We were gonna say “Bea Arthur”. That’ll teach ya to try to predict Us. We haven’t been predicted (or dicted, for that matter) in years.)


even if it's killing you (Softly?)


and brag about your incredible self-control tomorrow. (“Get a load of these Spanx™!” (Or is that not what you meant?))


Talking them into seeing things your way will come easily, but do you really want to win that way? (What kind of @sshole question izzat?)


You can always even things up after dark. (Clearly a lyric from the song “Just Another Smutty Sunday”. Which was, of course, the prequel to “Just Another Manic Monday”. Unfortunately, the sequel, “Just Another Tepid Tuesday” never got written, because nobody could be bothered.)


(Oh, leave Us alone. We didn’t have enough sleep.)


If you know you're not fit for human consumption, (“Not Fit For Human Consumption“, of course, having been Our nickname in high school.)


don't press your luck. (But, more importantly, don’t press your duck. Because We just Googled “pressed duck” on Wikipedia, and EEEUUUWWWWW!!!! Those wacky, zany, madcap Frenchies!)


Get yourself home as soon as possible, get into your jammies and don't answer the phone. (The calls are coming from inside the house!!!)


(Your YOUR-O-Scopes:


http://www.humorscope.com


Pardon me…do you have any Grey Cowgrass?)