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Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Hanging out on Second Avenue eating chicken vindaloo

 Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Wednesday, March 23, 2011.  Happy Hump Day One And All, Monte Hall, Lauren Bacall. We are being quite easily distracted by bright, shiny InterNetz this morning, as We, for some reason, arose at the crack of ass to begin frutting and stretting Our hour upon the stage.  Unlike yesterday, when We had actual things We needed to accomplish, and somehow managed to stay fast abed until 11AM.  Why, even Himself was up before We were!  Today, when all We need to do is help Himself learn his  lines for gay sensitivity tomorrow (and We just counted them…he has  twenty-eight.  If only We were (subjunctively) paid per utterance HERE what HE is paid THERE, We would be supporting Ourself in the manner to which We wish to become accustomed. (We are apparently SO easily distracted that We’ve become distracted in the middle of explaining how easily distracted We are…oh, look; a balloon!)),  We have already gone off on a vindaloo-seeking tangent and beaten Our previous record at sudoku.

Does “gone off on a vindaloo-seeking tangent and beaten Our previous record at Sudoku” sound dirty to you?  Because (A.) it’s not, and (2.) you’re a filthy perverted bum-licker.

Micro$oft Weird™, for some reason, insists on capitalizing “sudoku”.  (Does “capitalizing sudoku” sound dirty to you?  Are you looking at porn in another window while you read this horoscope?  Show Us on the doll where you touched yourself…)

Yesterday, meanwhile, was the birthday of both Stephen Sondheim and Andrew Lloyd Weber.  We?  Did not get so much as a morsel of cake.

Speaking of gay sensitivity (We just LOVE saying that…as We all know, Himself is ten of the most sensitive gays We know.  Why, he’s just like that princess, in the fairy tale The Princess and the Pee. (We know, We know…you’re going to tell Us it’s actually The Princess and the Pea.   Well, The Princess and the Pee is the lesser-known original Grimm (also, grim) fairy tale, in which Her High-ness is kept awake by chronic bedwetting.  Because, seriously, what would give YOU more trouble sleeping?  A random legume, or urine-soaked sheets?  Thought so. (“Random Legume” is, of course, either a minor character in Guys and Dolls, or one of the answers on the Magic 8-Ball™. (You thought We were going to say it was Our nickname in high school, didn’t you?  We scoff at your expectations of predictability.  (Also, what kind of stupid nickname would “Random Legume” be? (It occurs to Us at this very second that it is possible that “Random Legume” was Orson Bean’s real name.  But then who the hell would CHOOSE to be called “Orson Bean”?))))))…you thought We had lost the thread, didn’t you?  Oh, no, Vincent van Gogh.  Speaking of gay sensitivity, there will be no episode of Erix Daily Horoscope tomorrow, as Himself has to be up at the crack of ass to transport his gay sensitive ass (as well as the rest of him(self)) to the provinces to do gay sensitivity training.  And somehow, We find that We just can’t write when Himself’s not in his bed, snoring away.  Sigh. Cain’t help lubbin’ dat man of mine…

We are thinking that “gay sensitive ass” really DOES sound dirty.  Also, that some ointment might be in order. Also also, that it was, quite possibly, Himself’s nickname in high school.

Apropos of nothing, sometimes brilliancies occur to Us and We have nowhere apt to display them. To wit:  “Let he who is without chin cast Franchot Tone”.

Don’t forgot to make your reservations to laugh at Himself and his little friends on April Fool’s Day:  .

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

And so, without pork vindaloo:

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!

You need to deal with some people you don’t know well (We’d know them a whole lot better medium rare.  Just sayin’.)

— but you’ve got just the right kind of energy to build bridges.  (We do not, however, have the energy to Beau Bridges.  Although We might be persuaded to attempt to muster some for Jeff Bridges.  Lloyd Bridges, as We are sure We have pointed out before, is dead, and, consequently, requires virtually no energy whatsoever.)

In fact, even language barriers aren’t all that problematic for you!  (Mais oui, zat eez becauze We speek in, how-you-say, zee tongues.  As in, “Zis tongue seats five.”)

Breathe easy (Hey, they won’t buy the balloon if they can get the air for free.)

(We’ve never understood that saying.  Even when there are cows in it.  Cows and milk are two quite different things, no?  You ever see a filet mignon made out of milk?  Or a leather jacket?  

(Sixteen vegans just spontaneously combusted.  That, in case you were wondering, is why it smells like edamame farts in here.  (Edamame Farts was, of course, the wacky next door neighbor on the failed 60s sitcom, I Love Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds.)))

(That may be the best drug joke We’ve ever told in here.  It was certainly the most circuitous.)

— today you will get a lot closer to answering the questions you’ve been wrestling with. (If you’ve seen Our ass recently, it will come as no surprise to you that the wrestling in question is sumo wrestling.)

Before the day is through, you’ll be taken to the right place and given all the right tools (An adz, an awl, and a rusty Phillips head screwdriver.  Kiss Us quick, We’re MacGuyver.  Well, actually, Tranny MacGuyver.  (Everybody wave hi to the lovely and talented Willam Belli.  Hi, Willam!)  
Meanwhile, whoever Phillip was, he must have had an extremely peculiar head.)

to contemplate your situation and think through your options. (We love options.  They make it so much easier to do the wrong thing.)

There’s no such thing as bad answers (There is, however, such a thing as really stupid questions.)

— just right answers. (What about WRONG answers, twatnozzle?  Are you saying there’s no such thing as those?)

(We just this very minute made up “twatnozzle”.  You can tell, because Micro$oft Weird™ doesn’t think it’s a word.  But if you use it three times in a sentence, it’s yours.  Twatnozzle, twatnozzle, twatnozzle.  (Oh, look:  Michael Keaton!))

(We were going to throw you a curve and say “Buster Keaton”, but We found that the joke became too obscure.  Also, Diane Keaton got a restraining order, and Meredith Baxter Birney isn’t funny anymore.)

(Honk if you know why Meredith Baxter Birney was in that sentence.  (Clearly, We are going for Most Celebs Named In A Single Erix Daily Horoscope.  You would think there was a prize.  There isn’t.  Because, if there (subjunctively) were, We’d have to buy it, and wrap it, and present it to Ourself, and, really, why bovver? (Sorry…We can’t hear for all the honking.  It’s like somebody’s trying to squeeze the shit out of a whole flock of geese.)))

(Aaaaand in one swell foop, We’ve tied in today’s Erix Daily Horoscope Pixture Du Jour Au Jus Albert Camus Maya Angelou Horton Hears A Who My Sweet Babboo. Because Our storylines are like the finely-tuned mechanism of a Swiss crotch.)

(We have just been trying to put all of today's celebs in the label field.  Everybody from Diane Keaton on didn't fit.  Too bad, so sad, anal sex with your dad.)

So don’t be afraid to dig deep into your subconscious and face some nagging fears. (Thank you Sigmund Freud.  Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.  Other times, it’s a really nasty butt plug.)

(Try not to dwell.  (Okay, if you’re dwelling, We will just mention that We’ve just given the Chantix™ people a brilliant commercial idea.  (See?  Next time, when We say “Don’t dwell”, DON’T.)))

This may be a time when you have to give something up to get something you need. (We have already given up sacrifice for Lent.)

(We were going to make a “sacrifice fly” joke there, but that would involve Our finding out what the hell a sacrifice fly is.  Plus, it’s been far too long since We’ve had anything to do with a fly that was not Our Own.  Sigh.  Not funny.)

Some seriously active energy is coming your way, (As opposed to what?  Seriously INactive energy?  Asshat.)

 but before you launch yourself into furious action, (Now THERE’S a picture.)

do your homework (The dog ate it.)

and find something new that involves new faces (Does it involve sitting on them?)

— your enthusiasm is sure to be a big hit! (Especially with an exclamation point after it! Oh, look: sparkles!)

(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.