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Monday, April 18, 2011

Younger than Springtime for Hitler am I



Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Monday, April 18, 2011.  Happy birthday to Marilyn, who turns twenty-four today.  And happy belated birthday to Himself, who turned twenty-four over the weekend.   Himself is exceedingly grateful for all the calls, cards, good wishes, and SitOnMyFaceBook messages He received in honor of the occasion.  And, since We know you are all Inquiring Minds Who Want To Know, We shall tell you a little bit about His nativity festivities.  The Big Day started out much earlier than anyone had anticipated, with an unexpected 4AM Birthday Poop.  The most exciting thing about that for Our intrepid Birthday Boy was that He actually woke up prior to the poop occurring and, consequently, was able to enjoy it to the fullest, having betaken Himself to the receptacle wherein such efforts are usually made, instead of remaining fast asleep in His bed.  Because, birthday or no birthday, Starzina Starfish-Browne does NOT change anyone’s poopy sheets.   Having divested Himself of inordinately large quantities of poop in an exceedingly satisfying manner, He went cheerfully back to sleep for a number of hours, whilst visions of SugarBabies danced in His head.

Regular (heh) Gentle Readers will recall that SugarBabies are similar in principle to SugarDaddies, except that they are rich and YOUNG.

Meanwhile, Our story has been derailed by Micro$oftWeird™, which not only does not recognize “poopy” as a word, but also is suggesting that We replace it with “pope”. And, while the epic Birthday Poop was certainly a religious experience (in the secular sense), such a replacement would no doubt turn it into a very different story indeed.

Later in the day, there was champagne, and that was very lovely.

And now for a completely different story, entitled The Little Rotary Cell Phone That Couldn’t.  We are aware that many of Our Gentle Readers of varying regularities (poop!) have taken the plunge and obtained smart phones, which are apparently the best thing since sliced bread.  (For all We know, said phones may actually slice bread, probably after baking it, too.) We Our Own Self Personally have slogged Ludditically on with Our plain old rotary cell phone, which still accepts nickels and whose number is BUtterfield-8.  We ask very little of said instrument, except that it take the occasional photo of the inside of Our pants, and that it allow Us to make, oh, I don’t know, PHONE CALLS.  As it has, of late, become temperamental about just how much of those phone calls it will allow Us to HEAR, We have decided to chuck its antiquated ass and obtain a new (and, hopefully, more friendly and accommodating) device.

And what does this mean to YOU, Gentle Readers?  Because you, you, you, it’s all about YOU.  It means that you can look forward tomorrow to being regaled with the scintillating story of Our Visit To The Phone Store, and thus may possibly avoid stories involving poop.

You’re welcome.

And now, the movement…er, moment you’ve all been waiting for:  The HorrorScope:

Why does all the important stuff have to happen under the surface? (Because you can’t drown somebody without holding their head under?)

That’s what it feels like today, (But more importantly, what does it smell like today?)

and while you may feel a bit clueless, (Roll out those shoeless, poo-less, clueless days of summer…)

(Life is a cabaret, old chump.  (Actually, Life™ is a cereal.  Also a board game.  But that would kind of fu(k up the song.))

you can at least rest easy knowing your subconscious is on the case.  (So wait…We’re supposed to be conscious of Our subconscious?  We feel a headache coming on…)

Today, like many days, you should focus on the journey — not just the destination. (Ever the trailblazer, We have decided to adopt the novel approach of focusing on Uranus.  We are going to focus on Uranus starting RIGHT NOW.  (Did you feel a little tingle when We said that?  Because We sure did.))

You need to slow down, or you could miss some important landmarks. (Okay, focused, as We are, on Uranus, that was just disgusting.)

Juggle your schedule to create more free time in the evening, because you need a chunk of time that’s flexible and relaxed. (Juggle your balls… We’re focused on Uranus.)

If a talkative friend wants to bend your ear on the phone, politely tell them you have other things to deal with. (Politely tell them it was your fu(king birthday, why don’t they buy you a goddamn phone?)

(Speaking of which, We forgot to mention today’s Erix Daily Horoscope Pixture Du Jour Au Jus Dick Van Dyke Chita Rivera Paul Lynde Dick Gautier Susan Watson Kay Medford Charles Nelson Reilly.  It is, of course, from the opening number of the off-off-off-Broadway musical, Gay Gay Birdie (“Have you heard about Hugo and Tim?”).  But, just in case you haven’t purchased Himself’s birthday present yet, it also serves as a gift suggestion. Take THAT, Amazon.)

Pull out your patience and save the foot race for another day.  (Did she just say, “pull out your patience”?   We’re REALLY gonna focus on Uranus now.  (You put Uranus in, you put Uranus out, you put Uranus in, and you shake it all about….))

If you haven’t already done so, now is the best time to write down your needs and goals for your love life and beyond. (Is it possible that We have gotten beyond Our very Own love life?  That is so deep…)

Don’t get too picky — jot down a few attainable results, and don’t waste time getting to work! (Just sit on a happy face…)

(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.