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Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Smells like teen spirit

 Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Toosty, August Twoth, twoth-ousand elebben.  There are, it would seem, people who are not speaking to Us.  Unfortunately for these people, they neglected to MENTION that they were not speaking to Us, so, by the time We NOTICED that they were not speaking to Us, We didn’t MISS them speaking to Us.  Quelle frommage.  Also, quelle stirfries.  And quelle whore.

That there was a little Frawnch, as a special shout-out to Our Sistah Ovella.  Speaking of countries in Yurrup, greetings to several readers who, according to Our Google Bloggoni-O-Meter, stumbled across these pages from Latvia this morning.  Ah, Latvia!  Just a stone’s throw from Estonia.  And…that’s all We’ve got. Uh-Oh, Bloggoni-Os.  (Oh, you were thinking the exact same thing.)

So, really?  Dreams about shoveling snow, and family Christmas at the old homestead?  It IS August, is it not? The oddness of all of that was compounded by the fact that many of Our cousins were present, but as children, although many of their current children were present as well.  As were a lot of old Italian people that We’d never laid eyes on in Our life. Or perhaps they were Latvianese…We neglected to ask.

Have you got your tickets for the hottest show in this year’s Fringe Festival yet?  In case We have been unclear on this subject, Himself will be bringing back his marriage equality one-man show, The Wedding Consultant, from September 2-18, at the Walnut Street Theatre Independence Studio on 3. Needless to say (and yet promptly saying it), you are all expected to attend. Especially those who didn’t so much show up last time.  And yes, We have kept records.  Drop by on SitOnMyFaceBook here:

You will, no doubt, be delirious with joy to hear that We are not repeating the paragraph with the quiz in it yet again.  Really, there are but so many Mayim Bialik references that a grown person can stand. However, We are also not telling you the answers. Neener-neener-neener.

Here is a video.  We would ask you to hit the “Like” button, but apparently many of you can only barely manage to dress yourselves, so such technology is beyond you.  Sigh.

And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for: Justin Bieber’s crusty pajamas. (What?  We thought We’d get off of Daniel Radcliffe (and give someone else a chance.)).  Or, the HorrorScope:

A big challenge is coming your way, (A big challenge, or a big mentally-challenged person?)

and how you choose to deal with it tells the world all they need to know. (Because if it’s a big challenge, it’s most likely gonna get on Our nerves, but if it’s just some fat ‘tard, We can probably distract it with something shiny.)


Confront it boldly or back off quickly (Thereby causing Us to wonder why, if “confront” is a word, “conback” isn’t one as well.)

(Cunning linguistics, We haz them.)

— it affects your reputation big-time!  (Was that a fat joke?)

A new arrival makes some waves today (Don’t worry…they won’t be permanent.)

(Heh.  That was a little hairdresser joke.  For Our readers who are hairdressers.  The rest of you, carry on.  If you have hair, that is.  (Who wears hair shirts?  We wear hair shirts.  If you dare wear hair shirts, Nair™ for hair shirts…))


— and this tiny event could trigger an earthquake (Kiss Us quick, We’re Ava Gardner.)

(Please tell Us that TCBITWWW was not the ONLY person who got that joke.)

that changes your entire landscape almost overnight. (As could bougainvillea.  Which We looked up the correct spelling of just now, as a service to Our readers. You’re welcome.)

To prepare, get all the gritty details you can on a new person as quickly as you can. (So now not only do We need winged monkeys, We need winged poo-flinging monkeys.  Life is a constant trial.)

The wheels may start turning in your mind … and suddenly your outlandish ideas may not be so crazy after all.  (Is it just Us, or is that last sentence a precise description of what happens when One goes off One’s meds?)

Keep pushing  (Eventually, a baby will pop out.)

— see how far you can go. (Twins?  Triplets?  Sextuplets?  The Mormon Tabernacle Choir?)

You’re on to something and you know it!   (Unfortunately, that “something” is not crack.)

New personalities are teaching you new tactics.  (Oh, honey.  We have any NUMBER of new personalities.  That’s what got Us in all this trouble in the first place.)

Romance can seem so serious sometimes  (Especially when there isn’t any.)

— all the more reason to forget about it (About what?)

and have some silly fun!  (With Silly String™!  Buy a can today!)

Take your niece to a children’s museum, for example, or to your local playground.  (We don’t have a niece.  And, oddly enough, the authorities frown upon grown folks taking random children to playgrounds.)

 It’ll do wonders for your spirit. (As would that crack We mentioned earlier.)

 (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.