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Monday, April 11, 2011

Fly me to Cancun and let me drink at all the bars.



Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Monday, April 11, 2011. Was there a weekend?  Did We blink and miss it?  Mink and bliss it?  Millicent Martin? (Please forgive Us Our trespasses, as We have shot those who have trespassed on sight.  (Prayers are peculiar.)  We spent most of the night and this morning ministering to Himself, who was felled by an errant cheese and bean burrito, which kept threatening to reappear, one way or another, in its entirety.  It was not, apparently, all that good in the first place, so One had no desire to witness its resurrection.  Fortunately, Himself now seems to be fast asleep, as We have managed to stick a proverbial cork in each end, and We are hoping for the best. (Or a few empanadas at most.  (Sorry…We couldn’t resist.  And We were so suBtle and tasteful up till that point.  Sigh.)))

So We have been watching season 4 of Mad Men. We’re about halfway through.  It’s a wee tad dark, no?  Every so often, We wish for a Very Special Episode where Don Draper is suddenly Darren Stevens, married to Samantha (January Jones is perfect, yes?), and working for Larry Tate (the white-haired guy).  Think about it…you mostly wouldn’t even have to recast.  The secretary with the giant breastusses could be Endora.  And Pete could be Gladys Kravitz.  You’re welcome, AMC; please send a check.

In still other news, We had Our existence acknowledged this weekend…We do so love when that happens.  Mainly because it’s so rare.  Talked to some of the young far-flung well-hung (is it just Us, or does that sound like a Chinese banquet?), and We now have a top-secret hush-hush sweet charcoal project that We can’t tell you about yet lest We jinx it (much like the rest of Our life).  So neener-neener-neener, and nanny-nanny poo-poo.

And, as We’ve got nothing else (literally and figuratively), here’s the HorrorScope:

Your fondness for someone close enriches both of your lives today, even if there’s no concrete way to measure it. (We got yer “concrete way to measure it” right HERE., Bay-BEE!)

Open up even more, if that’s possible, (Did We mention the burrito?  Because We’re pretty sure We mentioned the burrito.)

and see what comes next for you. (Or out of you.  Or on you.  You know, one of those.)

 Good news!  (We’re not gonna pay a lot for this muffler.)


(Who needs a muffler in this weather, anyway?)

The things you’ve been working toward so ardently are coming together nicely now. (We would really, REALLY like to believe that.  It is, however, OUR life, so We are dubious at best.)

 Okay, you’re not quite ‘there’ yet, (Nor are We ‘all there’.  Also, ‘there’’s precious little ‘there’ ‘there’. (See?  We can use single quotes inappropriately, too. (With a ‘there-there’ here, and a ‘there-there’ there, here a ‘there’, there a ‘there’, everywhere a ‘there-there’…Old MacDonald had to fart, ee-yi-ee-yi-OH!)))

but there will be some major indications that you are tantalizingly close today. (“Tantalizingly”…now there’s a word you don’t see too often.  Also, “zephyr”, “borborygmi”, and “spats”.)

How to make the most of this wonderful momentum?  (We are thinking “have another burrito” is NOT the way to go.)

Just keep going!  (Oh, look….bee-yotch wants Us to have a burrito-eating contest.  Asshat.)

Try not to celebrate prematurely, (Ya know, you can pretty much take that sentence and turn it into “Try not to __________  prematurely”, because whatever verb you stick in there is probably something you don‘t want to do prematurely.  Just sayin’.)

 but do give yourself a little congratulatory gift.  (Is that a euphemism?  Like “autotune your harp”?  (Just checking to see if someone’s in here with Us.))

You deserve the positive encouragement — you are ready to take this ball and run with it.  (That’s one of those sports metaphors, isn’t it?  But not a baseball one, because “you are ready to take this ball and hit it with a stick” doesn’t really seem to mean the same thing at all, does it?)

 Now is the best time for you to clear out romantic baggage that might be holding you back. (Does it count as “romantic baggage” if it’s a steamer trunk with a dead body in it?)

(Hypothetically speaking, of course.)

Is it time to stash all those pictures of your ex, for example, or maybe to put that last awkward date out of mind?  (Oh, please.  We just got the last body parts out of Our freezer. (Oooops…was that the outside voice?))

You know you can do it. (Kiss Us quick, We’re Rosie O’Donnell The Riveter.)
(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.