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Thursday, April 14, 2011

Baby, baby, baby, oh

                                        

                                                                                                                                                           
                                                                                                                                                           

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Thursday, April 14, 2011.  The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, the shun is signing, the chirds are burping, and clearly once again here at Casa de Campbell’s™SoupCasserole, We haven’t got any damn idea what the fu(k We’re talking about.  But then, what else is gnu?  (Micro$oft Weird™ is suggesting that We change “gnu” to “new”.  Shut the fu(k up, Micro$oft Weird™.  We are a Poetess, but We don’t knowituss.)

(What’s gnu, PussySnatch? Woe, woe, woe.)

That was a little musical interlude to help you start your day. Now if We could just find a little musical Quaalude to start Ours…

What the hell ever happened to Quaaludes, anyway?  (We just Googled them on Wikipedia…the reference included a story about Roman Polanski and a thirteen year old girl.  Of course, that thirteen year old girl is now a hundred and seventy-two, so We’ll be moving on now.  (Her name, in case you hadn’t yet guessed, is David Cassidy.  This being, for some inexplicable reason, David Cassidy Week here at Erix Daily Horoscope. (Hey, the guy who invented Tiger Beat died this week….maybe We’re taking over for him.   After all, SOMEBODY needs to publish pictures of Justin Bieber’s Underoos™.)))

Our goodness, that was all just wildly inappropriate, now, wunnit? Lettuce move on, shall We? Before you perverts get all caught up in images of Roman Polanski chasing David Cassidy around Justin Bieber’s Underoos™.   So, anyway, it’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood.  (Somehow, child molestation and Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood just go together, don’t they?  Even as a child (actually, ESPECIALLY as a child), you couldn’t have paid Us enough money to be alone in a room with that cardigan-sweatered freak.  Keep your damn shoes ON, wanker, and don’t open that closet door! (Parenthetically, wouldn’t it have been a whole different neighborhood if it had been (subjunctively) Mister KENNY Rogers’ Neighborhood?  “Alright, now, chirren, you gotta know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em…now show us on Dolly Parton here where the other Mister Rogers touched you.”))

It’s just a musical extravaganza in here this morning, innit?  Life is a cabaret, old chump.

What were We talking about?  Oh, yes…it’s a beautiful day.  Unfortunately, whether the weather is cold, or whether the weather is hot, somebody peed in the porridge in the pot, and Himself is rolled up in His bed, depressed.  It would seem that, one year ago today, He was winging His way to a fabulous Southern Californian getaway.  This year, despite several half-baked ideas, He decided it would be fiscally prudent to stayathome instead of gettingaway, and He’s not especially happy about it.  Oh, well; it sucks to be Him.

Perhaps His HorrorScope will cheer Him up. (Himself and We Our Own Self Personally are both Arieses.  Which is about the only thing We have in common.  Well, that, and We wear the same shoe size.):

Sometimes one day is much like the one that preceded it, (Gee, We hadn’t noticed. Asshat.)

and while you usually crave excitement, (Indeed. Often, We jump out from behind closed doors just to startle Ourselves.  Because We?  Know how to have a good time.)

right now you are content with the same-old, same-old. (Actually, We Ass(tromalogical) Ho(roscopulist)s have a technical phrase for that: “same shit, different Uranus”.)

Don’t stir up any new trouble!  (NOW you tell Us!  Fine, somebody give Justin Bieber a Quaalude before he starts pointing to Dolly’s Partons.)

If you’ve got a project at work that’s wrapping up, (Then you work at the gift wrapping counter in a department store.  And how very, very sad for you.)

 today is the day to attend to all the details. (We always get confused: is it God who’s in the details, or the Devil?  We’re pretty sure it’s the Devil who has the blue dress, blue dress on, because God doesn’t have the legs for it.  (But don’t tell Him We said so.)  Good golly, Miss Dolly.)

If you’re developing a new donut, start testing the sprinkles. (If you’re developing a new euphemism, check out YESTERDAY’S Erix Daily Horoscope, where Euphemismania was in full swing, and have some fun “putting the dishes away” in Justin Timberlake’s “kitchen cabinets”.  There is nothing euphemismistic about Justin Bieber’s Underoos™, although there are those who would say that the contents of same are 100% vaginal. (Ask Ethel Merman you happen to see…what smells like tuna? Justin Bieber’s pee.))

(Only Erix Daily Horosocpe Gentle Readers Of A Certain Age were able to sing that last line with the correct jingle melody. Poor Justin Bieber, one the other hand, is completely confused.  On the plus side, he’s all a-tingle form being included in the same paragraph with both Justin Timberlake AND Ethel Merman.)

Don’t go back to the cutting board for a whole new batter recipe! (Also, don’t go back to the mixer for your metaphors, because they’re muddled enough as it is.)

Whatever you’ve got, batter-wise, you’ve tested it enough to know it’s good — don’t let doubt distract you from the important questions: (Do We, or do We not, want fries with that?)

Glaze or frosting? (Yes, please.)

Pink sprinkles or coconut shavings?  (Clearly, it’s audience participation time.  Because, when they’re THIS easy, the highly-trained professionals just sit back.  Okay, here We go: sexual innuendoes involving “coconut shaving”: BEGIN!)

Keeping your social calendar organized is a challenge today, but at least it’s fun! (You say “fun”, We say “Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder”.  Let’s call the whole thing awful.)

For the best results, bump up anything involving lots of new places and new faces! (And flying aces with suitcases at twenty paces!  And exclamation points for no reason! And Justin Bieber’s vagina!)

*****************************************************************************    
(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.