Showing posts with label Matthew McConaughey. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Matthew McConaughey. Show all posts

Monday, March 25, 2013

There’s a light over at the Frankenstein place



Hello, Ducks!



Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s! Daily! Horoscope! for JustAnotherManfredMannicMonday, March 25, 2013.



Before We even begin, or go any further, We have just one small tasteful genteel question to pose to you, Our Beloved Gentle Readers.  We trust you will grant Us a moment’s indulgence, and give Our query the polite, solicitous consideration it so richly deserves.  And here it is:



What in the name of motherfucking fuckety fucknuts is this motherfucking fuckety fuckshit falling out of the motherfucking fuckety fuckcunt of a fucking sky on March the motherfucking fuckety twenty-fuckth?



We now return to Our regularly scheduled program, already in progress.



Happy Birthday, meanwhile, to Ryan, who turns twenty-four today.  Also, Happy Birthday to David, who also turns twenty-four today.  Also also, Happy Birthday to Ed, who also also turns twenty-four today.   Is that a candle on Our cake, Ed, or are We just happy to see you?  ROWRRRR!!!




As Our long-time Gentle Readers (We ruv them rong time!) will recall, one of the stated purposes of Eric’s!Daily!Horoscope! is to make YouPeople feel better by comparison.  Another stated purpose is to function, for Us, as a quasi-diary, to jog what’s left of Our feeble memory into remembering just exactly what futile endeavor We embarked upon when.  Ever-so-occasionally, something GOOD actually happens to Us, and these two purposes are at cross-purposes, as it (subjunctively) were.



This is one of those times.



So two weeks ago, We agreed to be part of an online focus group, to discuss some food product or another.  Because, if you’ve seen the sun being eclipsed by Our ass recently, you know, We know from food.  Might as well face it, We’re addicted to lunch.  So, on the appointed date at the appointed time, We duly signed into the chatroom.  Where We learned that they had overbooked (apparently, they are under the impression that some people on the InterWebz don’t do what they say they’re gonna do; go figger), and that We were now deselected from participation.  Don’t worry, sez they, you will still be compensated.



Mmm-hmm.  The check is in the mail.  We looked at Our calendar for yesterday, and guess what?  It did not say, “Be born”.



Imagine Our surprise, then, when last week, a check for the full fifty dollars arrived!  For approximately five minutes of Our time.  That’s ten dollars a minute.  Yay, Us.



Now if We could just figger out how to get paid ten dollars a minute on some consistent basis…



In other news, We finally got around to watching The Paperboy.  This would be the movie in which Nicole Kidman pees on Zac Efron.  Guess what?  It didn’t suck.  The aforementioned peeing was an oddly filmed scene, and was in response to Mister Efron’s character being stung by jellyfish, so there’s that.  But there were plenty of other sessy-time scenes, and a great deal of Mister Efron in his tighty-whities, so there’s also THAT.



Guess what else?  Mister Efron can act.  Which seems enormously unfair, given that he also looks like that.  We’ve not seen any of the High School Musical oeuvre, and We’re fairly certain We hadn’t actually heard Mister Efron speak before, so We were also pleasantly surprised that he has Full-Grown-Man-Voice, as opposed to, say, Justin Timberlake’s Baby-Girl-Voice.  And did We mention his tighty-whities?



In addition to Mister Efron’s underwear (and Mister Matthew McConaughey’s nekkid ass),  there is an engagingly twisted plot, and the fillum is well worth watching.  Although the less said about Miss Kidman’s Southern accent, the better.



 
In other movie news, here is the link with which you would share Our new Starzina’s Time of the Month Horoscope:  Aries video with your friends, enemies, frenemies, enemists, and frenulums, if you were so inclined: 

http://youtu.be/saxvaR85vYU



Also, for those of you who like cups of tea, and history, and someone in a tree, here is last year’s Aries video, featuring Our mother, Rosie Starfish, for comparison:





And now, in case you thought things couldn’t get worse, here is Kelli’s HorrorScope:



A number of famous people were born today.  Including Richard O’Brien.




Try to show someone close how much you care — with actions, not words.  (Fine.  Look into this electron microscope…)



Your good deeds don’t go unnoticed, (Or unpunished, for that matter.)



and you should find that the two of you are even closer by day’s end.  (Who cares?)



(That was what We in the biz call a “Long Con Joke”.)



Accidents are called accidents for a reason  (Because “poopypants” sounds so juvenile.)



— they happen through no one person’s concerted efforts, they just happen.  (Which is why God made Depends™.)



So if you are involved in a fender bender or any other type of collision, real or metaphorical, today, avoid taking it personally.  (Okay, how do We get Ourself into a metaphorical collision?  Because THAT?  Sounds way cool.)



Things happen, (But never to Us.)



and every time you can let the stress roll off of your back, you grow and learn.  (Bend and stretch, reach for the stars.  Here comes Jupiter; there goes Uranus!)



(We just heard, in Our head, Nicole Kidman say, “There goes Uranus!” in her  Southern/Australian accent.  Oddly enough, Tom Cruise didn’t say anything at all.)



 Of course, (A horse is a horse, of course, of course.)



(Zac Efron’s tighty-whities.)



 if you are in a situation where you know someone is working against you, you should feel free to get out your claws.  (Whaddaya mean, “get out” Our claws?  What the hell are they, Lee™ Press-On Claws?)



Are you asking the impossible of yourself?  (Well, unless YOU know how this plain yellow pumpkin can become a golden carriage…)



Figure out what’s realistic when it comes to your romantic life.  (And, by “realistic”, of course, she means “inflatable”.)



It’s also a good time to establish a boundary between other people’s expectations of your own.  (It’s called “proofreading”, AssHat; look into it.)






(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.
                                                                                                                                     

Monday, December 10, 2012

All around the mulberry bush, the Monkees chased the Beatles




Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for  JustAnotherMagicMikeMonday, December 10, 2012. Happy Human Rights Day to everyone who operates under the delusion that they have rights.

Okay, We’re not going to beat around the bush.  (There is, as far as We know, no such thing as a bushbeater. (Micro$oft Weird™, you will be happy to know, agrees with Us.) There is, however, such a thing as a bushwhacker.  (Again with Micro$oft Weird™’s Seal of Approval.)  So shouldn’t the saying be, “We’re not going to whack around the bush”?)

But We digress.

(Gawd, the comedy is suBtle in here this morning. (Meanwhile, apropos of absolutely nothing, We just started following Kirstie Alley on Twitter.))

But to return to Our point, We are not going to Whack-A-Mole around your guacamole bush.  (Nor shall We be jerkin’ your gherkin, at least until Our fee is discussed.  (Oooops…We digressed again.))

Lettuce start over:  today marks the 666th post of Eric’s! Daily! Horoscope! (We’re trying out the exclamation points as of yesterday…We’re still not sure if they’re too much or not.)  here in Bloggonia.  (This does not, of course, count the thousands of Eric’s!Daily!Horoscope! emails that began in 2001 (Do We like the exclamation points better when it all looks like one word?  Who knows?)), the first few years of which are lost to antiquity.  (Or in antiquity…We’re never sure how that goes.  Because, seriously, how often does One say such a thing?))

The good news is that, other than the bits We ordinarily copy over from day to day, this is going to be an entirely original post.  Although We do trust that all Our newbs from Holidailies™ have enjoyed the Blasts-From-The-Past of the past two days. (And who doesn’t enjoy a good Pearl Harbor Day celebration?)

The bad news is that said original post has started out like this, and shows no signs of improving any time soon.

But plunging valiantly forward, speaking of Magic Mike, We watched said fillum yesterday.  Well, all except for ten minutes or so in the middle when We dozed off.  We were, to be charitable, considerably underwhelmed.  There is something about trying desperately to be sexy that makes people decidedly less sexy. Also, sorry, People magazine, but there are sexier men in the universe than Channing Tatum. Also also, is it just Us, or does Matthew McConaughey always look like he smells bad, and not in a good way? Also also also, Hollyweird could have saved a lot of money by sticking Cher on the set and shooting Burlesque at the exact same time.

In still other news, The Great Tea Drinking Challenge continues.  Day Two.  On the plus side, it is clearly not decaffeinated.  On the minus side, it is clearly not coffee.  Sigh.

Here, in case you missed it the past two days, is where to get tickets to Heavy Metal Dance Fag:


Here, in case you’ve missed it every day since November 25, is the link with which to share Our Sagittarius video with your friends:


Meanwhile, this just in from Helen Keller on Twitter (Why, yes, We DO follow Helen Keller on Twitter; thanks for asking.): 

Hey did you guys know I have a dog? Yeah, me neither...

#FactsAboutMe Favorite color: Velcro.

Just shaved my legs. Off to the emergency room!!

Here’s the HorrorScope:


It is That’s So Raven Symone’s birthday today.  Also, just in case you got up on the right side of the bed and were feeling spry and chipper and all, Susan Dey of The Partridge Family fame?  Turns sixty today.

You’re welcome.

You can’t help but feel a little subdued today (Also, suBtle.  Don’t forget Our suBtlety.  Or We shall bash your fuckin’ head in with it.)

— it’s in your soul!  (Hey, this is e-pissode 666…We done sold that shit on the eBay a while back.)

Sometimes even you need to rest and recharge your batteries, (Ever since We mixed up Our vibrator and our defibrillator….)

so take some time off and let yourself find peace and quiet.  (Maybe We should go over to Helen Keller’s house.)

(WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!)

You’re going to be dealing with some fragile egos today, (Also, some Fritos™ and frijoles.)

which could end up being quite tiresome for you. (Insert fart joke here.)

But in the end, taking extra time and effort to make these insecure people feel comfortable and important will be much easier than having to deal with their tantrums should their paranoia get the better of them.  (Kill ‘em all and let Satan sort ‘em out.)

Everyone’s emotions can be fragile now and then, (So the fuck what?  Why should We care?)

including yours.  (Sob!)

Try to remember that when you’re paying your tenth compliment of the hour.  (Oh, please.  We are so poor, We cannot even pay attention.)

 Set up your upcoming romantic or social schedule this morning, when plans are inclined to go your way.  (Who the hell has a romantic or social schedule in the MORNING?  It’s broad daylight, fercrissakes!  (Although it is, once again, some more, raining.))

By this afternoon, any agenda you attempt to carry out may be blocked by some strange energy.  (Our plans have already been thwarted once…DO NOT fuck with Us again.)


 (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.