I got my nuts from a hippie in a camper van on Saturday night

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Thursday, January 13, 2011.  Happy birthday to John G., who turns twenty-four today all the way over on the Left Coast in San Francisco.  Which is where Tony Bennett left his heart, and where any number of other gentlemen have done all sorts of things with various other organs.  And which is also the home of Rice-A-Roni™, the San Francisco treat. I don’t know about you, but when I finally make it out to visit San Francisco, I want a better damn treat than Rice-A-Roni™.  I’m just sayin’.  Meanwhile, did you know that Rice-A-Roni™ Fried Rice, which used to have those little slivers of almond in it?  In fact, it may even have been called Rice-A-Roni™ Fried Rice With Those Little Slivers Of Almond In It?  Doesn’t have those little slivers of almond in it any more. And they didn’t even have the decency to change the name to Rice-A-Roni™ Fried Rice WITHOUT Those Little Slivers Of Almond In It.  It’s either a cost-cutting measure, or else it’s something to do with all of these children and their nut allergies.  Where did all of these children come from all of a sudden?  When I was a child, if someone gave you nuts to eat, you ate them and you liked them.  These namby-pamby children today, you so much as SHOW them your nuts, and they spontaneously combust or something.  Jeebus.

(Two weeks writing this fu(king horoscope, and I’ve apparently turned into Andy Rooney.  Please come and kill me now.)

Speaking of fried rice (how’s THAT for a segue? (What’s a segue?  About a pound and a half.)), Himself is still fast abed, having worn his own self out completely shoveling snow yesterday.  When last heard from, he was having a dream in which he actually Went Home With A Boy.  Just like they do in the movies.  Well, some movies, anyway.  Of course, being Himself, as soon as he got into the boy’s home, he promptly started making fried rice. (From scratch, mind you, not Rice-A-Roni™ Fried Rice Without Those Little Slivers Of Almond In It. (I am NOT making this up.)) Because, obviously, he hadn’t read his “Going Home With Boys” manual in quite some time.  And, I might add, he was making said fried rice with no shirt on.  Because obviously, in addition to not having read his “Going Home With Boys” manual in quite some time, he had also been neglecting his “101 Common Kitchen Disasters And How To Avoid Them” manual as well.

Now, at this juncture, the astute readers among you, in addition to congratulating yourselves on being able to read a stute, are firmly convinced that you know exactly how this dream is about to veer into nightmare, via spattered hot oil and singed lychee nuts.  WRONG, Won Ton Breath!  There is Our Hero, slicing, dicing, and fried ricing away, nipples to the wind and tits akimbo, when the Boy He Went Home With’s apartment door opens and in walks The Boy’s mother.

Who is a Chinawoman.

And then he woke up.

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I put that row of stars there so you could rest your eyes a moment before moving to a completely new topic, now with thirty-seven percent more of Those Little Slivers Of Almond In It.  Today’s Erix Daily Horoscope Pixture Du Jour Au Jus No Mus No Fus Popping Pimples For The Pus Rosa Parks In The Front Of the Bus (I REALLY need a new name for those, now that I’ve taken over writing these horoscopes) comes to us from the lovely and talented Cole Escola, star of Logo’s Jeffrey and Cole Casserole.  You can see much more of his wit and wisdom here:  http://coleescola.wordpress.com/2011/01/12/doodle-113/

You need to have patience with today’s big issues (I want Those Little Slivers Of Almond back, dammit!  What kind of San Francisco Treat doesn’t have any nuts in it?))

— they don’t resolve easily, and the more you push or pout, (Or poop?)

the more they resist. (The name is Force.  Irresistible Force.  Pleased to meet you, Mister Immovable Object.)

The answer comes slowly, and through group effort.  (A group poop, you say?  How exactly does THAT work?)

(Carol Channing:  “Corn?!?  When did we have corn?”)

The universe is downright insisting that you turn your attention toward your checkbook. (Speaking of black holes…)

(Heh.  “A Chinawoman.”  Sometimes, I just tickle myself.)

And that doesn’t mean just balancing it, either. (Oh, of course not.  I’ll probably have to make it fried rice from scratch.  But I’ve got news for you…it isn’t getting any look at my tits.)

You need to go over all your finances with a fine-tooth comb. (Apparently, my finances have pubic lice.)

Once you’re done, (Stick a fork in me.)

 if you need to put your foot down about a bill, a debt or what someone owes you, go right ahead — especially if you’ve already been far too patient. (See also: Aries, Definition Of.  “Patient”?  The hell you say.)

A new P.O.V. has you seeing things in a new way. (Presumption Of Virginity?  Pantsuit Of Velour? Peruvian Orgasm Vendor?  I’m so confused…)

Are you ready for that new date or next move move? (Yes, indeedy doo.  Have wok, will travel.  My fried rice brings ALL the boys to the yard.)

Check your motives (Screw that…check your nuts.)

— if you’re making a big change, (As long as your nuts are still there, you haven’t made The Big Change yet.)

make sure it’s for the right reasons. (Which are well known to her.)

(Your YOUR-O-Scopes:

http://www.humorscope.com )

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.