Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Mundee, June 27, 2011. Welcome to Our Very Newest Reader, who arrived here no doubt accidentally (and, possibly, Occidentally) on the Eric’s Daily Horoscope Shores of Gitcheegoomee by searching “Raymond Burr penis size”. We trust he (We are assuming (thereby something something Uma Thurman’s ass) “he”…are there women who are concerned with dead men’s penis sizes? Please advise.) is settling in nicely; trust Us, the confusion will pass. It will not, however, pass any more quickly as We contemplate attempting a Nicely Nicely Johnson/penis pun, only to decide against it, as We don’t want to rock the boat.
The musical theatre queens all just groaned in unison. In four-part harmony. And Raymond Burr rolled over in his grave. Which measured eleven on the Richter scale. (His rolling over, that is. The Richter scale doesn’t measure penises. (Penii?))
Candy-coated popcorn, penis, and a prize…that’s what you get in CrackerJack™.
We are drinking green tea. It is yellow.
Also, We have a pain in Our shoulder. And a hole in Our bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza.
Just to be clear, someone DID actually find Us by searching “Raymond Burr penis size”. We don’t make these things up just to titillate (heh) you. We love Our Google Bloggonian statistics.
Here is something We DON’T love: in Our never-ending efforts to remain positive and upbeat, despite the black cloud that follows Us around, the black fly in Our Chardonnay, and Our general Job-like existence (That’s capital-J “Job”, like the guy in the Bible (Yes, We have read the Bible. The butler did it.)), We have decided that We shall completely ignore mean-spirited attacks such as, “You suck. And, if you ask really nicely (heh), we’ll tell you just exactly WHY you suck, and HOW MUCH you suck. Because we’re here to help.” And the lovely corollary, “You suck, but we’re too busy and important to be bothered telling you why right now. But your call is important to us, so someday we’ll get back to you and tell you why you suck, and how much you suck.”
See, here’s the thing: there is only ONE Royal We around here, and We are Us. Or, more grammatically, We are We (all the way home). Also, We have met the enema, and he are you. So knock it the fuck off.
Radically changing the subject, We appear to know a great many more Cancers who were born later in the sign. But, in case you know some who were born earlier, and would like to share with them The Gift That Keeps On Giving (no, not herpes…get your mind out of Uma Thurman’s ass), here is Starzina’s Time Of The Month Horoscope: Cancer video. Which can be found right here http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p3cqsTuxavM .
In still other news, We are now following Neil Patrick Harris on Twitter. We wish We had a clue what the hell that means.
Push hard to make sure that your viewpoint is more widely adopted — but do so diplomatically. (We are an Aries…have you met Us?)
Playing hardball is likely (And again We say: have you met Us? We do not “play ball”. No matter what adjective you choose to attach to the ball in question. Of course, given the opportunity, We have been known to play WITH balls; perhaps this was the source of your confusion. Don’t let it happen again.)
to backfire on you, (Unless there is a car involved, “backfire” is a euphemism for farting, no?)
and you don’t have time to waste on backtracking. (Or, worse yet, backpacking. Which is enough to make One take up cracksmoking.)
Even someone who is agreeable and charming may have some devious intentions. (How fortunate for Us, then, that We are unacquainted with any such people.)
Do not let yourself trust people just because they seem trustworthy — wait for proof! (You heard the lady…take OFF that Boy Scout uniform, Skippy!)
Watch for people who are smiling broadly today — they may have something to hide. (Alternatively, they may have already hidden something. Something battery-operated. In their nether regions.)
Try not to commit to anything legally binding or financially risky right now. (NOW ya tell us.)
You may not have all the necessary facts. (But We have plenty of unnecessary ones. For example, it is physically impossible to lick your own elbow.)
(AAAAaaaand now you’re all trying to lick your own elbows, you kinky elbow-licking elbowlickers, you. We certainly hope you’re not at work doing that. (Plus, who knows where those elbows have been?))
Are you looking for a sign? (Yes. “Slippery when wet.” Have you seen it?)
Instead of gazing at tea leaves (We thought We’d covered this. We are drinking green tea. It is yellow. All the leaves are brown . (All the leaves are brown.) And the sky is gray. (And the sky is gray.))
or checking in with a crystal ball, (That’s gonna leave a mark.)
you need to visit coupled-up friends for an quick chat about romance. (We don’t know about you, but where WE come from, it’s rude to visit friends while they’re coupling.)
Get some good advice on how to look for your next love. (What, following him on Twatter isn’t enough?)
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.