When you’ve been through Herbert and J Edgar Hoover, anything else is a laugh

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s! Daily! Horoscope! for ThurstonHowellTheThird’sThirdThirstyThrowbackThursday,  January Da Furst, 2015.

There is a pimple on the side of Our nose the size of the ball that dropped in Times Square last night.

Also, Happy New Year.

(Remind Us to come back here and insert a joke about Justin Bieber’s balls dropping.)

Happy Birthday to Jen, and Nick, and Tony, each of whom turns twenty-four today right here in The City That Loves You (On Your) Back. 

Happy Birthday also to Terrance, who also turns twenty-four today.  In Bethlehem.  Where Baby Jeebus was born recently.  (2015 years ago being “recently” on the geologic time scale.)  And Happy Birthday also too to Ryanne, who also too turns twenty-four today, all the way out in El Lay.

So 2014 certainly went out kicking and screaming and flinging poo at everybody, no?  Or was it just flinging poo at Us?  For example, We were minding Our Own business yesterday, reading a local newspaper, when suddenly an article informed Us that We do not, in fact, have a gig that We thought We had in the 2015 theatre season.  People, it would seem, are dicks.  Who knew?  (Well, We knew, but that was more of a rhetorical question.  (Great balls o’ fire (hic), it’s Rhettorical! (Oh, please…who ELSE would tell you a Vivien Leigh joke on New Year’s Day?)))

And don’t even get Us started on the sandpaper-condommed ass-raping that was the Murder Mystery Factory last night (“Condommed” is, apparently, not a word.  Again, who knew?).  Because, if you were (subjunctively) to get Us started, We might have to tell you about the actor who somehow broke herself immediately before We started the show, performed the first act seated in a chair, then left for the hospital while We Our Own Self Personally read the rest of her role from the stage manager’s desk while running light and sound cues.

Or We might have to tell you about how they tried to poison the woman who refused the seafood bisque because of a serious allergy by giving her “minestrone”…with seafood in it.

Or maybe We could tell you how they so over-booked the place that We couldn’t get Our bar tabs settled before midnight, so most of Our guests left before the final act.

All that said, if you happen to be free tomorrow (Friday) night, We are acting in the show, and the house is small, so if you want discounted tickets (and aren’t allergic to seafood), holla at Us.

In addition to all of these egregious last-minute 2014 offenses, Our future ex-husband Joseph Gordon-Levitt had the colossal gall to get married to someone else.

In Our ongoing efforts to be glass-half-full, We are going to say that all of these atrocities transpired in 2104, and that 2015 will be better. (Which appears to be true, so far.  (Of course, We have yet to leave OurHouseWhereWeLive.))

In other positive news, We have some pork and sauerkraut in the oven.

Speaking of positive news, We are about to embark upon a directing endeavor at a local historical landmark which may be of interest, at this point, to some of Our Gentle Readers who are Fluffya actors.  Herewith some info; hit Us up for more:

The Mechanical Theater seeks male and female actors for upcoming production of “She Stoops to Conquer.”

Auditions will be held on January 11th from 1 pm to 3 pm and January 12th from 6 pm to 8 pm at the Physick House (321 South 4^th Street.)

The production will take place at the Powel House (244 South 3rd Street) from April 9^th through April 19^th. The play is a Restoration Comedy first performed in London in 1773.  The production will be directed by Eric Singel. 

Please send a headshot and resume to Loretta.vasile@gmail.com. Auditions will consist of reading from the script.  No monologue required.  Auditioners will be seen on a first come first served basis.  If you would like to audition but can only come shortly after the specified times please let us know and we will try to accommodate you.  Actors will receive 7.6% of the gross ticket sales as compensation.

(This is the company that produced the Walker and O’Dare radio plays in which you, of course, saw Us perform, as well as this past Halloween’s sold-out run of The Masque of Poe. Info on ticket sales will follow.  Be there or be square.)

In other news, here is the e-pissode from last Christmas season that everybody seems (according to Our Google-O-Meter™)  to be revisiting all of a sudden:  http://ericsdailyhoroscope.blogspot.com/2013/12/she-works-hard-for-money.html   Enjoy!

And check out Our Best Of Holidailies™ Award  here:

 http://www.holidailies.org/entries/bestof#entry-1286

and go to the e-ntry directly here:

 http://ericsdailyhoroscope.blogspot.com/2014/12/time-passages.html .

Here is the link with which you may share Our Capricorn video with both of your friends:   http://youtu.be/m3Aa_X_HoVM

And here, for your further edification, is Our very first Capricorn video:

Upon reflection, these two videos are amongst Our much more densely-plotted cinematic efforts, due to the fact that Our director actually is a Capricorn (although quite unlike the unseen character from the videos).

We often ponder, in the endless time afforded to Us by the fact that We are almost universally ignored, how many of Our Gentle Readers actually realize that, if viewed in order, Our videos actually have ongoing plots and storylines.  Then, of course, We realize that Our Gentle Readers are all imaginary, and we curl up into the fetal position…

Moving on, didja know that We have been e-pisstling e-pissodes of these e-pisstles in one form or another since 2001?  And that the earliest dead-tree archival records from 2004 are now TEN YEARS OLD, and can be found (for a small fee) here: http://www.lulu.com/shop/eric-singel/erics-daily-horoscope-2004/paperback/product-300894.html  ? 

Thank Gawd We didn’t stray from the point.

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

In celebrity birthday news, people born today include Betsy Ross, Paul Revere, J. Edgar Hoover, Pocahontas, and Charo’s dead husband, Xavier Cugat.

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.

                                                                                                                                    

There’s got to be a morning after…

Greetings, Everyone Relishes Icelandic Cuisine---

Here is your horoscope for Monday, November 29, 2010 (We trust that you have stuffed all your stuffing, pumped all your pumpkin pie, and masticated all the turkeys you’ve desired to keep you happy for another year.  (“Masticated all the turkeys you’ve desired” is, of course, a euphemism, but We’re not telling you for what.  (All y’all who had to run to your Funk & Wagnalls to look up “masticated” should probably be making a new year’s resolution to read more.  Cereal boxes, USA Today, and the Twilight series don’t count.))  We Our Own Selves personally have moved on to the next big holiday in the cavalcade.  No, We’re not talking about clutching Our pearls for Pearl Harbor Day (but extra credit for you if you thought of that before We did).  We are referring, of course, to Christmas, for which We have already trimmed Our tree, mailed Our cards, bought and wrapped most of Our gifts, and intercoursed Our penguin.  (We put that last bit in there just to see if you were paying attention.  Also because We were stuck on how dirty “trimmed Our tree” sounded.) You are all, no doubt, peeing green with envy, but, if you pause and reflect, you will realize that this is much better than being peregrine with ennui.):

(“Masticated”, “cavalcade”, “peregrine”, “ennui”…it won’t be long before high school students start being required to read Erix Daily Horoscope in order to prepare for their SATs.   Dibs on the boys’ swim team.  (Did he actually SAY that? (Oh, unclutch your pearls, Lavinia, those high school boys could probably teach Us a thing or two.))

(Meanwhile, if One can clutch, Micro$oft Weird™, why can One not unclutch?  Also, who the h3ll is Lavinia?)

 (Our-O-Scopes:)

Look up the word 'glib' in the dictionary, and don't be surprised to see your picture there. (Alternatively, if you look up the word ‘gullible’ in the dictionary, it’s not there.  (Heh.  That boys’ swim team will believe ANYTHING.))

Yes, your verbal skills will definitely be the stuff that legends are made of. (Surely We don’t need to point out to you that “verbal skills” and “oral skills” are two different things?  (This would be the juncture at which you reply, “No, and don’t call me Shirley.”  (You have heard that Leslie Nielsen died, haven’t you?  Leslie Nielsen was, of course, the captain of the SS Poseidon.  Which will make for a very sad New Years around these particular parts.)))

Now get busy making yourself a legend for other reasons. (Well, We’re gonna need a mink coat first.)

(See, you may THINK We are dating Ourselves (well, SOMEONE has to) with that joke, but We heard recently that they are bringing that ad campaign back, so, actually, We are on the cutting edge of pop culture, and nanny-nanny-poo-poo.)

(A rustle of Speedos™ as the boys’ swim team scurries off to look up “nanny-nanny-poo-poo”.  Which most likely will NOT appear on the SATs.  (Also, Speedos™ don’t so much rustle, but whatevs. (“Whatevs” will also most likely not appear on the SATs.)))

Any good reason will do. (If We shave it, you’ll swim faster.)

(This would be an excellent place for a joke involving Jeff Stryker, a submarine, and a periscope.  Unfortunately, We don’t know such a joke.  We are always grateful, however, for audience participation. (Those of you who are still mentally shaving the boy’s swim team should get a hobby.  (Or a hobby horse.  (Heh.  We kill Us.))))

Your ordinarily astounding memory has suddenly failed you. (That happened once before, but We forgot about it.)

All you can remember now is how great things were -- In The Old Days. (Mister, We could use a man like Herbert Hoover again.)

Stop that. (Hey, We’ve got pop culture up the @ssz around here.  Poop culture, that’s We.)

It's time to move on.  (Up, to the East Side, to a dee-luxe apartment in the sky-hi-hi.)

Admit your errors. (We thought We were wrong once, but We were mistaken.)

Smile, nod and shrug your shoulders -- a lot. (Then oil up the boys’ swim team and do the Hokey-Pokey. (Ooops…was that the outside voice?))

Then go back to your room, lock yourself in a closet (Have you met Us?)

and have a tantrum, (And a Pamprin™.  Also, an egg roll, Mister Goldstone.)

with no expletives deleted. (@#@%@#$^%@.)

(Your YOUR-O-Scopes:

http://www.humorscope.com )