Showing posts with label Robert Downey Jr.. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Robert Downey Jr.. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

I know all there is to know about The Crying Game



Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Wendy’sApparentlyUnawareThatPeterPanIsGayDay, April 4, 2012.  Happy birthday to Ronnen, who turns twenty-four today on The Alternate Coast.  Happy birthday also to Robert Downey Junior, who turns twenty-four today, and to Heath Ledger, who, if he turns anything, will be over in his grave.  Because he’s, ya know, dead.  So his birthday is pretty much immaterial.  At least Robert Downey Junior and Ronnen can have cake. Maybe together…that would be a fun birthday!

Dammit, now We are hungry for cake.

In other news, We have finished The Hunger Games (despite being hungry for cake).  Or, rather, We have finished Book One, which is pretty much all that was on Our agenda.

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SPOILERS AHEAD
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(That was just a warning, in case We were incorrect in Our assumption, based on recent media indications, that We were the only living human who had yet to read this book.  Or see the movie.  Which is much more likely, as there are so many people who cannot read.  Why, many of you, right now, probably aren’t even reading this.  (We’ll pause here to let the non-existentialists digest that last bit.))

First off, lettuce say, We did not not enjoy the book.  It certainly perked right along and kept the pages turning, as do most of these books wherein the writer is quite blatantly writing A Major Motion Picture.  Despite being aimed at an adolescent audience, it rarely talked down to the reader, and the adult characters, while certainly secondary, managed to be not too entirely idiotic.  And We only found one egregious editorial error. (We would relate it, but We failed to bookmark it while reading, and We certainly aren’t going to reopen that book any time soon.)

That said, some issues:  first and Formosa, We are thinking that, if your characters are playing a life-or-death survival game, in which only one of them will survive, you might, as an author, engender a LEETLE more suspense regarding the outcome if you didn’t have, oh, We don’t know, A FIRST-PERSON NARRATOR.  Just sayin’.

Also, it might be more interesting and involving if, of the twenty-four people playing said game, more than four of them had their characters developed beyond cannon fodder.

In other news, if your teenaged heroine is undecided between two love interests (and, in this sort of book, it would seem formulaic that she must be), it would be much more interesting for the reader if they were both PRESNT in the book, instead of one being dismissed after the first few pages and clearly saved up for Book Two.

And don’t even get Us started on the deus ex machina that makes Book Two possible…
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END SPOILERS
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Just in case you were finding it difficult to resoundingly ignore it, here is the link for Starzina’s Time Of The Month Horoscope: Aries video:


Here it is again, in case you missed it:



And here is a HorrorScope:

Try to reach out and help people today. (Can We reach around and help people instead?  That sounds like more fun.)

Your energy demands giving (And Uranus demands an enema.)

(Micro$oft Weird™ would like Us to change “enema” to “enemy”.  Because “And Uranus demands an enemy” makes so much more sense.)

(Enna-MEE, enna-MAH, enna-MEE, enna-MAH-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!)

 — you are sure to recharge your batteries (Fuck that…just plug Us into the wall.)

(Plug it in, plug it in.)

(Why We don’t have commercial sponsorship, We’ll never know.)

if you find ways to assist the community or your friends and family.  (And what have all those people done for Us lately?)

 While this day will overwhelm people around you with a surfeit of minutiae that must be dealt with, you will handle the chaotic data deluge with ease.  (“Surfeit of minutiae”?  “Chaotic data deluge”?  What, did somebody buy a dictionary?)

Go ahead and grab those loose ends (To say nothing of the tight ends.)

(No, really…say NOTHING.)

— you will be able to tie them all into beautiful bows!  (You mean tie ‘em in KNOTS?!? Kinky!)

(We are going to pause here, to give you a chance to appreciate the many layers, levels, and laminae on which the preceding joke operated.  You’re welcome.)

You are entering a time of great organizational skill, when multitasking isn’t just a trait you can put on your resume — it’s a philosophy you should live by!  (“Multitasking (n.): the ability to fuck up a whole bunch of things at the same time.”)

Physical exercise not only helps you stay in shape and relieve everyday stress, it’s also a perfect way to meet new people who may share your interests in athletics. (And we are nothing if not an athletic supporter.)

Join a co-ed sports team and see if you can score. (See, this is the sort of heterosexist claptrap that makes Us want to punch this bitch Kelli right in the vagina.  “Co-ed sports team”, Uranus!  If We wanted to meet lesbians, there’s a bar for that.)



(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.


Monday, August 16, 2010

Pretty legs, great big kn0ckers; Honey, these are real showstoppers





Greetings, Etch-a-sketch Retraces Indelible Charcoal---

Here is your horoscope for Monday, August 16, 2010 (And a very happy Monday to all of Our drones and dronettes!  Shoulders to the wheel, noses to the grindstone, nipples to the wind, and titz akimbo! (It strikes Us, all sudden-like, that Titz Akimbo would be an excellent drag name for someone.  Especially if said someone’s titz were, ya know, akimbo. (Speaking of drag queens, from the It’s A Small Whirled Drafty Hall Department, We (and the WaitStaff) will be performing at a fundraiser at the World CafĂ© Live this Sunday, raising funds for a friend’s short fillum.  (Because We are The Sort Of Person who knows people who make fillums.  About shorts.  (Or in their shorts.  (One of those.)))  Now here’s the Small Whirled part:  We shall be sharing the stage with Miss Navaya Shay and Miss Cherry Pop!  AND their loose lip-synching ships!  Talk about up your cr@ck without a piddle!  Check out the festivities here: http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100001248400015#!/event.php?eid=136408703056751&ref=ts ))):

(We Our Own Selves Personally shall be performing the following monolog, which is way, way funnier live:

)
(Meanwhile, in remembrances of this weekend past (kiss Us quick, We’re Marcel Proust (and a very special good morning to the one of you who got THAT (yes, Ovella, We knew it was you))), We watched Our Selves a fillum:  Sherlock Holmes, Super Action Hero.  Now, while We were certainly pleased to see Mister Robert Downey Jr. spending fully half of a Victorian period piece stripped to the waist and engaging in fisticuffs, We were gravely dismayed that We live in a country that so loves stupidity and distrusts anyone intelligent that the filmmakers felt compelled to turn Sherlock Holmes…Sherlock Holmes, fercrissakes!...into an asskicking thug.  Of course, this is the same country where some milch cow who couldn’t even be bothered finishing out her term as governor of the North Pole feels free to roll her eyes on camera when a constituent tells her that she is a teacher, because, ya know, book-learning is evil, you betcha, and smart people are bad.  Sigh.)
(In other news, those with perpetually twisted knickers might want to check out some facts from time to time:  http://www.aolnews.com/nation/article/name-that-mosque-ground-zeros-other-neighbors/19590651?sms_ss=facebook )

 (Our Our-O-Scope:)

Hopefully, (Hopelessly demoted to poo…Olivia Fig Newton Jawn.)

you've been diligent with your workout schedule, (Well, we’ve been indigent, and We’ve gone digital…does that count? (Those of you whose minds went directly to the gutter for “gone digital”…sit right here next to Us.))

and you've taken all your vitamins. (We don’t go for booze and pills on Broadway.)

You'll need all the energy you can muster (And all the mustard you can energize…(Pardon Us; do you have any grey poop on?))

to handle the constant attention you can expect from a minimum of one ardent admirer, (Well, a minimum of one is better than a minimum of none.  But not by much.  (Math is HARD!))

two well-meaning friends (Who just happen to be Siamese twins.)

and a host of new fans.  (What We’ve got here is either the pilot for a 70s sitcom or a Merv Griffin game show.)

You just can't seem to stop replaying that comment they made over and over in your mind. (“Your daughter’s pregnancy brings much happiness to our village”…why did he SAY that?  WHY???)

It's time to figure out why. (Dunno why… there’s your son up in the sky…Norman Mailer…)

(What?)

You're in what's technically known as an overexuberant state of mind (Now, see, here’s a little-known piece of music trivia…that was actually Billy Joel’s original lyric, until the first time he sang it in concert and his teeth fell out.  Now he’s an old bald Jewish guy.  How did that happen?)

-- which means your audience, believe it or not, may be less than enthusiastic. (Well, considering you only promised Us a minimum of one, who cares?)

Dial it down, just a touch. (Is a touch more or less than a notch?  Also, which is bitchier, a bitch or a witch?  Inquiring minds Jacques Cousteau.)

Sharpen up your pencils (They’ll come in handy for poking when milch cows roll their eyes at you.)

and make sure you've got lots of legal pads handy. (We Our Own Self Personally prefer maxi legal pads. The go better with Our disposable legal briefs.)

Taking care of business (And workin’ overtime?)

is the name of the game (Then it’s a g0ddamn shame some of Us are playin’ Old Maid, ain’t it?)
-- and you're ready to play. (Ball?)

(Heh.  See what We did there?)

(Your Euro-O-Scopes:
raise your hand, raise your hand if you’re cowgrass)