24 Hours of Separation Between Celebrity and Mediocrity

October 22, 2006 by
Filed under: Greenpoint Magic 

I have been in a surly mood of late. There are numerous reasons for this and I care not to bore you with the details. Suffice it to say that I have autumn doldrums.

That said, I have (out of idle curiosity/vanity) researched who (if any) famous people share my birthday: January 7. I am sure many of you have done this, even if you will not openly admit to doing so.

It’s ‘psychic lotto by proxy’: you (some lowly cube-monkey earning slave wages) scratch away at a ticket with hopes that the stars will affirm that you are designated for something better in life other than shovelling shit. Or collating copies. Same difference.
I know who my birthday buds are and it ain’t pretty. Butterfly McQueen, Charles Addams (as in The Addams Family) and Paul Clemens number in my ranks, but the others suck. Big time.

  1. Millard Fillmore: one of the worst Presidents this country has ever had. I suspect our current Chimp in Chief will take him down a notch. This will only provide further proof as to how much Millard Fillmore sucked.
  2. Nicholas Cage: I was pretty down with Nick at first (Fast Times at Ridgemont High), but nowadays he’s just plain creepy. You can’t tell the difference between a wax statue of him and the real thing. Gross.
  3. Katie Couric: She offends me the most. I suspect this is due to the ‘perkiness factor’. I am rarely perky. “Perky” is a word neither my friends nor my enemies would use to describe me. When I appear to be remotely “perky” (and my husband can/will attest to this) it is because I am up to some type of anti-social activity. Think Wednesday Addams— or better yet— Uncle Fester or Lurch.

In closing, I have been in a rather shitty mood today. Until I saw this ‘modified’ advertisement on the front of a B61 bus headed down Manhattan Avenue.

The Perkiness Factor

This made my day. I wonder if this is what Katie looks like before being Photo-shopped? Fuck, I look like that every day.

Miss Heather

P.S.: The other thing that sucks about being born January 7 is that most people fuck it up and think that you were born January 8 (like Elvis or David Bowie). I HATE Elvis, but Bowie rocks.


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