Hello, Ducks!
Starzina
Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for ToozDee, Juneteenth,
2012. Happy Juneteenth to Our
Juneteenthian friends, who are, naturally, from the country of Juneteenthia,
which is a very small fishing nation wedged between Belize and Chad. Belize and Chad, you will recall from
yesterday’s e-pissode, don’t have much in common, but once they start passing
them poppers back and forth, it’s Katie-bar-the-door.
We
used to wonder what that saying meant, but now it just makes Us think of Katie
Holmes, who We suspect has to do precious little door-barring, if you know what
We mean, nudge-nudge, wink-wink.
We
have only a moment to check in with YouPeople, in between waiting to hear from
Our new WorldWideInterWebNetzian girlfriend Allison and making Ourself
beautiful in anticipation of the arrival of the first semen donor to answer Our
ad. (Notice how We’ve suddenly gone all serialized on your asses. Like, if you haven’t read the last two
e-pissodes, you have no idea what the fuck We’re talking about. It’s just like Dave and Penny on Search for Another World Meets The Young And
The Rest Of Us.)) So, to keep you
all amused, We went rooting through the Way-Back Machine and came up with this thoroughly-apropos-modern-Milli-Vanilli excerpt from Katie Holmes’s diary. This is all the way from 2005, people, prior
to her marriage to Mister Cruise, so it is really,
really OLD. In fact, it is so old
that it may have been first posted on MySpace:
EXCERPTS FROM KATIE H’S DIARY
April 28, 2005
Dear Diary,
Finally I can reveal the secret
I’ve been keeping, even from YOU, Dear Diary: Tommy C. and I are an
ITEM!!! My people have been seeing his people for about a month now, and
his publicist finally decided the time was right to announce that we are a
couple!!! I didn’t even dare write about it in here, Dear Diary, for fear
that someone would steal YOU the way they stole all those phone numbers from
that slut Paris H’s cell phone.
Tommy is SOOO refreshing,
especially after dating Chris K for all that time. I mean, Chris is cute
and all, but who can even name a movie he’s been in? I mean, like
AMERICAN PIE…what-EVER. And Tommy is, like, THE Major Hollywood Movie
Star. This is gonna be SOOO great for my career. I mean, look what he did
for Nicole, and my boobies are WAAAY bigger than hers. And it’ll be good
for him, too. I mean, it’s about time he started dating an American girl,
instead of all these foreigners and Australians and stuff.
Plus, Dear Diary, just between
you and me, when it comes to, you know, S-E-X…well, Chris had this REEAALLY big
winkie, which could hardly fit in my hoo-hoo, and he wanted to put it there
like ALL the time, and leave it there for like HOURS, and I’d wind up all
sweaty, with my hair all messed up, and I’d have to re-do my makeup. But
Tommy hardly EVER puts his winkie in my hoo-hoo, and, when he does, it’s just
the right size, because I don’t even notice that it’s there, and plus he only
puts it there for like a minute, so my hair and makeup looks exactly the same when
it’s over, and really, it’s not how you feel, it’s how you look.
So anyway, now that we are
officially dating, and can be seen in public, Tommy is gonna take me to meet
some of his friends at his church. I’m not sure what church it is…the
name sounded like “gynecology”, but I know that can’t be it, because that’s a
hoo-hoo doctor. I just know it’s not anything I’ve heard of before, like
Presbyterian or Episcopalian. I’m sure it’s something really special,
just like Tommy. I just hope it’s not that Kielbasa thing that Madonna
and Demi M. are into, because somebody told me that’s kind of Jewish, and I
don’t think my fans would like it if it turned out that I killed Jesus.
Love,
Katie
May 2, 2005
Dear Diary,
Tommy took me to his church
yesterday. It’s the Church of Scienceology, not
gynecology. (I get words like that mixed up sometimes. So does
Tommy, because he’s dyspeptic.)
We flew there in a helicopter,
and I had to wear a blindfold, because I’m not a member of the church yet, so
I’m not allowed to know where it is. It felt just like we were in one of
Tommy’s MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE movies. (Note to self: No more
hoo-hoo for Tommy till he agrees to put me in the next MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE
movie.) Then we had to circle for a long time, because the church people
had planted a bunch of flowers for our arrival, but they didn’t match my dress,
so Tommy had them rip all the flowers up and plant new ones before we got
there. How kewl is THAT?
Anyway, it wasn’t like a church
at all, more like a big resort in the middle of the desert. And there was
no service, which was good, because I get SOOO bored when other people talk for
too long. AND I got to meet some fat old guy who used to be John
Travolta, and that fat lady who was on CHEERS when she was thin, but now has a
show about being a fat lady, which I think is really stupid, but she was
REEEAALLLY nice to me, so it was okay. And when Tommy and the John
Travolta guy went off to get massages, we showed each other our hoo-hoos, but I
got really scared ‘cause her thighs kind of moved ALL ON THEIR OWN, so I made
her stop. Did I mention she was REEEALLY fat?
So, later, the four of us and a
bunch of Tommy’s other church friends got together and they talked about a
bunch of stuff I didn’t understand, like N-grams and futons and E-meters.
I made a joke about E! True Hollywood Story, but nobody laughed, so I didn’t
make any more jokes. Tommy said I didn’t understand because I wasn’t clear, but
I didn’t think THEY were being very clear, but I didn’t say so. It was
kinda like that time James v-d-B took me to that party with all his weird guy
friends in the funny leather costumes, and all anybody talked about was Special
K and circuit parties. *I* didn’t think it sounded like much of a party
if all they served was cereal, but I didn’t want to say so, because James was
always so sensitive about his friends. And the fact that he was going bald.
Anyway, Tommy says if I want to,
I can join his church, because they have a “special process for
celebrities”. Well, DUH. I mean, it’s not like we’re just ordinary
people or something.
Love,
Katie
Actually,
We have gone all soap-opera-serialized on your asses because, while We know you
are out there (We can hear you breathing), and We occasionally even hear from
one or the other of you, We have just recently had actual evidence that the
very same person has been reading for two days in a row! We love
that! So tune in tomorrow, because you never
know what will happen next…
Here’s
the HorrorScope (Well, you prolly kinda saw THAT coming…):
Okay,
if you’ve been sensing all morning that something is just a leetle off in The Universe today, your
crack Ass(tromalogical) Ho(roscopulist) is here to tell you what it is: it is Paula Abdul’s fiftieth birthday. Jump out of THAT cake and smell the frosting
flowers. (Is that a saying? Because if it’s not, it should be.)
Conflict is in the
air today (And Paula Abdul’s AARP card is in the mail.)
(We
have no idea why We’re taking such joy in busting on Paula Abdul. It’s not like she’s ever done anything to
Us. And We certainly don’t watch her
annoying television show. That said, We
suspect We’re not gonna stop busting on her any time soon.)
—
and you can come out ahead if you’re willing to get deep into the argumentative
weeds. (Sigh. Weeds. We love that show.)
You
may draw on old tricks (Like Paula Abdul?)
(Heh. These jokes tell themselves.)
to
confuse your opponents, but all is fair today.
(It may be fair, but it’s certainly not good.)
The
journey you have been on has been quite a challenging one, (Indeed. We almost stopped believing at one point…Journey
would have been pissed.)
(That
was a little rock-and-roll joke. Because
We’re hep to the jive like that. Also,
We watch Glee.)
so
you’ll breathe a sigh of relief (Sigh.)
today
when you come across a person (Heh.)
who
offers you a chance to rest your weary feet for a while. (The first person who guesses
what We’re picturing right now wins an autographed pair of Paula Abdul’s granny
panties.)
The
pace of your life has been far too fast for far too long, (Apparently, Our
pacemaker is on the fritz. (Who the fuck
is Fritz?))
and
they have an invitation you should not pass up. (Put it next to the offer We
can’t refuse. Then Shut. Up. Kelli.)
You’ll
be much happier when you can see things while you’re standing still — not when
they’re whizzing by as you run at a million miles an hour. (Heh.
She said “whizzing”.)
You
have your eye on someone, but why make it too easy? (You keep trying and trying
to make Us tell the joke about the hooker with the glass eye, but We are just
Not. Going. To. Do. It.)
It’s
not called the dating game for nothing, you know. (Well, of course it isn’t. The
Dating Game For Nothing would be a totally stupid name for a show. (Unless, of course, it were (subjunctively)
an existential show about masturbation.
In which case, it would still be better if it were (subjunctively)
called The Sound Of One Hand Clapping.) It is called The Match Game , (see how We segued there, like the sly, suBtle,
segue-er that We are), and playing it We shall be on Friday, July 13 and Saturday,
July 14, at 7:30, at L’Etage. The
SitOnMyFaceBook event is here: http://www.facebook.com/events/234467316672300/
and tickets can be gotten here: http://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/255809
. Be there, or be at The Dating Game For Nothing, like a big
loser.)
If
someone wants your digits, let them do a little work. (See, We know that the
kidz use “digits” to mean phone number, but when We hear the phrase “give
someone your digits”, We think of fingerbanging. Is that wrong?)
(Why
do We suddenly feel an overwhelming desire to discuss the position of Uranus?)
They’ll
appreciate you all the more afterward. (Heh.
Won’t they though? Won’t they
just?)
(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!)
*****************************************************************************
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.
