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Wednesday, March 30, 2011

The animals, the animals, let’s talk dirty to the animals! Fu(k you, Mister Bunny!


Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Wednesday, March 30, 2011.  Happy birthday to Aileen, who turns twenty-four today, and also to Mark, who also also turns twenty-four today.  Funny how that works.  It occurs to Us that We know ALMOST enough twenty-four –year-olds, including Us Our Own Self Personally, to take over the world.  But, having seen the world recently, We are smart enough not to bovver.

You may have noticed that We did not publish an installment of Erix Daily Horoscope yesterday.  (More likely, you skipped blithely through your day without giving Us a second thought, but We are giving you the petit four of the gout, you blithe day skipper you.)  We started to, We had picked a pixture (and also a peck of pickled peckers) but then We decided We couldn’t be arsed. A fit of ennui overcame Us, as fits of ennui are wont to do. (Lawdy, it sho’ am poetical in here this mawnin’.  We feel JUST like Emily Dickinson.  (Well, We feel like SOMEBODY’S dick in SOMEBODY’S son, but that’s neither here nor Barbara McNair.))

But today We’re back, from outer space, We just walked in to find you here with that sad look upon your face.  Oh, you ALWAYS look like that?  How sad for YOU.  And, lest We forget, Happy Hump Day!  May your humps be Mary and bright, and may all your humptresses be white.  (Now that We see it in black and white, as it (subjunctively) were, that song is a little bit racist, no?)

Wow, now We’re REALLY clutching at straws.  (Actually, We’re clutching Our pearls and clutching Our clutch purse, but clutching at straws is so much more litter-airy.  Especially when there’s a big ol’ line of cocaine at the end of the straw.  (Ooops…was that the outside voice?))

Is “clutching Our clutch purse” redundant?  And how odd does “clutch” look when you see it over and over again?

Don’t forget to make your reservations to laugh at Himself and his little friends on April Fool’s Day:  .  We hear there’s All The Wine You Can Drink.  And trust Us, We’ve SEEN YouPeople drink.  Also, We hear that, in the spirit of April Fool’s Day, The Universe is planning to throw a big snowstorm in Our honor.  So there’s that.  Fu(king Universe.

Meanwhile, We enjoyed this so much the other day, We thought We’d do it again.  (And, apparently, again, and again, and again. (We figger We might as well amuse Our Own Self.)):

And so, without Maya Angelou:

Little ‘Scope, little ‘Scope of Horrors.
Bop sh-bop, you'll never stop the terror.
Little ‘Scope, little ‘Scope of Horrors.
No, oh, oh, no, oh, oh, no, oh, oh, no!

(Before Our Favorite Ass(tromalogical) Ho(roscopulist) begins ass(tromalogically) ho(roscopulating) (did that sound dirty to you?  Because it sounded dirty to Us, and We even knew what We were talking about),  We would like to point out that at no point during today’s ass(tromalogical) ho(roscopulations) does herself point out that later today, We will be entering Mercury Retrograde.  Nor does she ever reveal what  Mercury Retrograde would translate to in Fahrenheit.  Ass hat.)

Today is a reflection of the past, (Misty water-colored memories of the way We were…(Please understand that you were supposed to hear that, not as performed by Barbra Streisand, but as performed by Gilda Radner as Lisa Loopner.  It will, consequently, be so funny you forget to laugh.))

but that doesn’t mean you’re trapped in a loop. (How can you tell it’s an endless loop…endless loop…endless loop….endless loopner…?)

If you don’t like where you are, (What’s not to like?  We’re in OurHovelWhereWeLive, wearing Our housecoat and Our bunny slippers, banging this keyboard like an old screen door while We sip coffee and eat bonbons.  Himself is snoring away in his bed while visions of sugarplums dance in his head, and who taught all those sugarplums to dance like that anyway?  It’s like the finale of fu(king A Chorus Line , but with sugarplums.  Jeebus.)

perform acts of kindness to improve your karmic balance. (If you’re REALLY kind to Us, later on We’ll show you Our karmic chameleon.)

Things should pick up soon!  (That’s right, Kelli!  Because, as soon as you put an exclamation point after a statement, it automatically makes it true! Instantly, emphatically true! And so, as god is Our witness, it must follow as the night the day, you!  Are! An Asshat!)

 Paying attention (We are too poor to pay attention.)

 to your most intriguing inner visions is crucial right now. (“Crucial” is for old fuddy-duddies. Us modern types say “clutch”.)

(Fuddy-Duddy was a bear.
Fuddy-Duddy had no hair.
‘Cause Fuddy-Duddy used some Nair™,
‘Specially on his derrière.)

(We feel another children’s book coming on.)

(Speaking of children’s books, in all seriousness, We would very much like to find an illustrator and self-publish Little Miss Prisspot.  Anybody?  Beuller?)

You have dreams, goals and ideas that deserve to be pulled into the real world — (We could really do without the giving birth metaphor…We don’t need your grabby hands up Our cooter, ThankYouVeryMuch.)

 people should know about what you are seeing when you close your eyes. (Eyelids, mostly.  What’s your point?)

Draw, paint, sketch, write down or even just describe what it is that you want. (See, We’re pretty sure that, if you draw your own winning PowerBall™ ticket, it doesn’t actually win.  Also, you get arrested.  For, ya know, fraud.  And for being poetic without a poetic license. And stuff like that there.)

Someone you talk to today can help you make it a reality (Oh, sure.  But can they help Us make it a reality TELEVISION SHOW?)

— and help you enter a new phase.  (See, now you’re sitting there thinking about Our moon.  And We feel very, very sorry for you.)

Sometimes the best thing to do is nothing at all. (In that case, you might as well just crown Us queen right this very minute.)

Today you’re feeling frustrated (It is, after all, a day ending in Y.)

and possibly unable to get anything accomplished. (Alternatively, the period could go after “anything” and the sentiment would be the same.)

Don’t fight it (“It” being, of course, “da funk”.)

(Get. Down…Boogie-Oogie-Oogie.)

— just make it a lazy day and let yourself just chill. (Chillin’ like Bob Dylan, yo.)

(We have no idea.  Just move on.)

Tonight, make a date with a favorite movie and some ice cream. (Ah, the old ménage a trois with Ben and Jerry.  And their new flavor, Hershey Highway.)

(Didn’t see THAT coming, didja?)
(Your YOUR-O-Scopes: )
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.