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Wednesday, April 20, 2011

For some it’s pills, for some it’s pot, for some it’s poppers and god-knows-what



Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Wednesday, April 20, 2011.  Happy birthday to Nima, who turns twenty-four today, and is running around half-nekkid on SitOnMyFaceBook.  Not that We mind, We’re just sayin’.  And, speaking of Half-Nekkid Nima, Happy Hump Day. And and Happy 4/20 to those of you who celebrate such things, and are no doubt baked already.  (Baked and reading Erix Daily Horoscope?  Talk about harshing your buzz.  On the plus side, good thing 4/20 is for grass, not acid.)

Not that We here at Erix Daily Horoscope are in any way advocating drug use.  Nor, on the flip side, are We advocating Miss Nancy Reagan’s plan to “just say ‘no’”.  It’s “just say ‘no, THANK YOU’”, bitch, ain’t’cha got no manners? (Who are We kidding?  Bitch probably never said “thank you” in her damn life.)

So, since We spoke to you last, We have obtained Ourself a phone!  Yes indeedy doo-doo, We have retired the old rotary cell phone that still takes nickels and whose number is BUtterfield-8.  (We have also as of this minute, you will be relieved to hear, retired that joke.  You’re welcome.) We went out and bought Ourself a Smart Phone.  From a homosexual phone salesman, no less.  (By that, We mean, of course, that the salesman was homosexual.  Not that he was selling homosexual phones.  We didn’t inquire into Our phone’s sexuality.  It is probably too smart to tell Us anyway.  Although We bet it’s getting more than We are.  It being so smart and all.  Sigh.)  At any rate, Our phone is so very smart that We have no idea what all very smart things it can do.  The homosexual salesman was trying to tell Us, but then he said, “there’s a nap for that” and We fell asleep.

Shtick around for da jokes.

So that’s really pretty much all We’ve got.  Onward and appward: The HorrorScope:

You need to express yourself as truthfully — and forcefully — as possible today. (Who the fu(k says so?)

(Heh. See what We did there?)

Your great energy is just right for thinking for yourself, (Why should We think for Ourself when Our phone is so damn smart? (Let your pages do the walking through the yellow fingers.  (That’s a little post-post-modern humor from a post-post-modern Post-It™ Note.  (You do realize that, in one more generation, that joke will cease to be funny because no one will know what “Yellow Pages™ were.  (Although maybe the phones will remember.  (One wonders if One could make money by having One’s phone go on Jeopardy!))))))

(That’s a sextaparenthetical in mid-sentence, folks.  Do NOT attempt this at home.)

 and you ought to be able to dream up something awesome!  (Mmm-hmm.  Himself had a nightmare last night that was so scary, He was afraid to go back to sleep.  So He got up and told Us all about it.  We will spare you, because it was boring.)

(You’re welcome. Again.  What did you ever do for Us?)

Your role in someone else’s life has been growing steadily, and today it reaches an important turning point.  (Turn left.)

You may feel a growing sense of responsibility toward this person, (What are We, your mother, fu(ker?)

but this feeling will not devolve into a fearful commitment. (A Fearful Commitment being, of course, the title of a depressive volume of poetry We wrote during Our early mid-late adolescence.)

This could be the start of a new direction in the path you’re taking (Turning left will, indeed, have that effect on things. Asshat.)

— perhaps this path will need to widen in order to accommodate the two of you more comfortably. (Was that a fat joke?)

Be prepared to make any necessary adjustments.  (By “necessary adjustments”, she means, of course, “liposuction”.)

Even if your prospects seem as flat as Nebraska’s landscape, (And as tight as Cleopatra’s pussy.  (We have no idea what that meant, but We just thought We’d throw it in there.  A little something for Our str8 boi readers. (Himself got a “belated birthday wishes” message from a  str8 boi reader earlier.  Its heading (as it (subjunctively) were) was “Penis”.  We do so love a str8 boi who enters into the spirit of things.))))

you still have plenty of other social opportunities. (To say nothing of social diseases.)

Pick up the phone (Oh, please.  Our phone is so smart, it picks up its own self.)

and make contact with your people. (Our phone has no doubt already made contact with Our people.  They are probably now Our phone’s people.)

They should appreciate the gesture (We got your “gesture” RIGHT HERE.)

— and might have news to share. (Or, alternatively, news to share with Cher.  Because Our phone can probably do that.  “If Ah could turn back tie-yum…”)

(“There’s a nap for that.”  Heh. We kill Us.)

(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.