Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Friday, April 22, 2011. Happy birthday to Bill, who turns twenty-four today. And Happy Earth Day to all of Our Earthling Readers; in honor of the day, We would like you to know that no brain cells were harmed in the creation of this horoscope, and that all jokes in today’s edition of Erix Daily Horoscope are 100% recycled. (Some of them, in fact, are already compost. But that’s neither here nor Nair™.) Also also, Happy Good Friday, Happy Belated Maundy Thursday, Happy Holy Saturday in advance, and Happy Easter to all of Our religious readers, and, to Our non-religious readers who celebrate some form of Easter anyway, We hope you find everything you want in your basket.
Here comes Peter, Caught In Tail, reading other people’s mail…
It would appear that, according to Micro$oft Weird™, neither “hippity” nor “hoppity” is actually a word. Fu(king heathens. (“Heathens”, meanwhile, is a peculiar word. (Not, of course, as peculiar as “fu(king”, especially with a parenthesis in place of the C. (Do Our prudish readers say “fucking” aloud in their heads when they come to a “fu(king” in Erix Daily Horoscope? Inquiring minds want to know.)) Why is “heathens” a peculiar word, you ask? Because, if One’s mind parses it improperly, as Ours just did (“just” being a relative concept meaning, in this case, “several parentheticals ago” (“mind” being a complete abstraction meaning, in Our own case, “that thing We lost quite some time ago that wasn’t Our virginity”)), One gets “heat-hens”, which bears absolutely no relation to its actual meaning. Although it does sound like a delicious idea.
We feel like chicken tonight, chicken tonight…
Because We are indeed an inquiring mind who wants to know, We just looked up that old “Chicken Tonight” product to see if it still exists. (For those too young to recall (and, seriously, if you’re too young to recall that, back the hell away from Mommy’s computer and get back in your playpen) Chicken Tonight™ was a jar of high fructose corn syrup designed to ruin an entire pan of perfectly good chicken.) And it does, in fact, still exist, just not in this country. They have it in the UK, amongst other places, where they also have (and We SWEAR We are not making this up) a related product called “Sausages Tonight™”.
We feel like sausages tonight, sausages tonight…
Has a certain ring to it, no? Although One must, philosophically, come to terms with the greed inherent in feeling like more than one…
Can vegetarians eat animal crackers?
Meanwhile, how is it possible that it is already April Twenty-Twoth, and We have just this very minute discovered that April is National Poetry Month?
Two Siamese twins from Salinas
Were conjoined from birth at the penis.
“We’d enjoy a good fu(k,
But we’re sh1t outta luck,
‘Cause there’s only one penis between us.”
Kiss Us quick, We’re Robert Frost in drag as Maya Angelou.
But soft, what wind through yonder window breaks? It is a fart, coming from your son’s moon….yes, kidz, it’s HorrorScope time!
You are pushing yourself pretty hard (Indeed. And the first hit is free. Because crack is the new black.)
— but you know it’s for a good cause. (And what good is a good cause without a good effect? Also, how much wood would a woodchuck suck if a woodchuck could suck wood?)
Someone needs to see what you are really capable of, (Oh, please. People have NO. IDEA.)
and you can show them with great ease right now. (Shouldn’t that be “with the greatest of ease”? And shouldn’t there be a flying trapeze involved?)
Watch out — your mind might be wandering all over the place when you’re starting your day. (Our mind? Has wandered to Flanders while meandering with philanderers. (What do We want? NONsense! When do We want it? Petunia!))
(If We remember to do it, We shall come back here later to insert some sort of onomatopoeia (it being National Poetry Munf, and all) involving “petunia…patooey…spittoon”. If We don’t remember, you shall be reading this as is. (Guess which one We predict is going to happen?))
(It occurs to Us that, this being a Very Special Jeebus Weekend, We haven’t put this in here for a while:
Therefore, (Ask not what your country can do for you. Ask who put the cunt in country to begin with.)
try to schedule all your errands later in the afternoon when you’ll be able to concentrate and multi-task like a professional. (Micro$oft Weird™ would like Us to change “cunt” to “count”. How is THAT funny?)
If you can make this a ‘strictly business’ kind of day, you will be able to leverage this laser-sharp focus and move some major mountains. (If We can make it a ‘Risky Business’ kind of day, will Tom Cruise come over and dance in his underwear?)
So save the goofing off for another day. (“I didn’t say she was insane, I said she was fucking Goofy!”—M. Mouse.)
Right now, you should be taking meetings, and doing thorough research. (Zzzzzzzzz….sorry; what?)
Are the right people seeing the real you? (Oh, dear lord, We certainly hope not.)
Slow down as much as you can (The only speed slower would be “death”.)
and take the time to reflect on the exact image you want to project to romantic prospects. (Liposuction…Botox….six seasons of Nip/Tuck…nope, it still ain’t gonna work.)
You can totally do this! (Like, ZOMiGod, totally!!1!!1!! LOLOLOLOLL!!!)
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.