Don’t tell me not to live just sit and putter; I’m gonna eat another Nutter Butter™.

                                        

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Thursday, March 31, 2011.  And thus endeth The First And Most Wretched Quarter Of The Year Of Our Lard 2011.  Not with a bang (big surprise there) but in a wimple.  Like Sister Sticky Fingers, the Kleptomaniac Nun.  Ave Maria, gee, it’s good to see ya, getting’ ecstatic and sorta dramatic and doing the Vatican rag…

What the hell are We talking about?

It is entirely possible that the threat of tomorrow’s snowstorm has caused Us to lose what is left of what passes for Our mind.  Himself is still under the covers, where he had, earlier, a long involved dream about shoveling snow.  (Of course he also had a dream about playing cards with cards made out of cheese, so it’s not exactly like he’s the poster child for sanity his own self.)

Meanwhile, if you have waited to make your reservations to see Himself and his little friends perform at the Wine Room tomorrow, you are too late; the show is sold out.  Too bad, so sad, anal sex with your dad.

Not, mind you, that Himself is in any mood to rehearse for said show, which is, of course, the sum total of this evening’s agenda.  Sigh.  At least he’ll be out of Our hair for a while.  Perhaps We shall tat a doily.

We noticed that YouPeople were not exactly brimming over with recommendations for illustrators for Our forthcoming children’s book, Little Miss Prisspot. So don’t imagine We’ll be doling out jobs on Our Crossdressing Kleptomaniac Nun sitcom any time soon.  Ingrates.

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

And so, without Gerard Depardieu:

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!

Try to get others to see how awesome they are today (Clearly, Everybody’s Favorite Ass(tromalogical) Ho(roscopulist) has muddled her pronouns again…what she MEANS is, “try to get others to see how awesome WE are today”.  Asshat.)

— you can do yourself a lot of good by doing good for your people.  (People…people who eat people…are the lunchiest people…in the world.  (Soylent Green is people.))

(In case it is in some way unclear to you, We have no idea what the fu(k We’re talking about today, and are finding Ourselves incapable of focusing on this horoscope for more than a sentence at a time.  We would refund your money, but…oh, wait.  Never mind.)

It’s a great time to improve the lot of whatever group you find yourself part of.  (Crossdressing Kleptomaniac Nuns Anonymous?  Now THERE’S twelve steps ya don’t see every day.)

When a surge of energy enters you today, (That had goddamn well better be a euphemism.)

use it to help others. (The Lard helps those who help theyselves.)

Instead of diving into a fun project (Yeah…god forbid We have any FUN.)

or a favorite hobby (Or a favorite hobby horse.  Or a favorite Holly Hobby horse.  Or a favorite holly jolly Christmas hobby horse is a horse of course of course.  Whatever.  As long as it’s no fun.)

 or hitting the mall, (Who DOES that?)

find out who needs some help around the house. (Oh, sure.  Just stick a broom up Our ass and We’ll sweep the floor while We’re at it.  Unless, of course, you stick the broom up there the wrong way.  Which lends a whole new meaning to your earlier statement about “diving into a fun project”.  To say nothing of riding a hobby horse.  Oh, the places We’ll go!)

An older family member will be very appreciative of the extra pair of hands. (Unless said extra pair of hands grows out of his or her nipples.  Because that?  Would just be annoying.)

And you’ll feel good because you’ll know that you have the right priorities. (Also because We have a broom up Our ass.)

There are times to take action and times to just stand still. (To everything, turd, turd, turd, there is a season, turd, turd, turd…)

Right now, you need to stay where you are. (Which is ever so much simpler than staying where you aren’t.  (Seriously…try it with Us.  Stay where you are.  Okay, now, stay where you aren’t.  Couldn’t do it, couldja?  Amateurs.))

Focus your energy inside and give yourself space to let your mind wander a bit. (Oh, please.  Our mind gnawed through its leash and wandered off years ago.  For all We know, it’s in a whole ‘nother country by now.)

Don’t try to focus on any one thing (Well, We’ve obviously got THAT concept down pat.  (Pat Paulsen, Pat Nixon, Pat Boone.  Who are three Pats you wouldn’t want to get it down, Alex?))

— just see where your subconscious takes you. (Well, DUH.  We’ve been doing THAT ever since “Hello, Ducks!”)

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(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.