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Monday, October 3, 2011

Scooby-Dooby-Doo, and Ashton, too!

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Mundee’s Undies, October 3, 2011. Can anyone stand that it’s October already?  And, more to the point, nuclear winter?  Nevertheless, happy belated (and nipply) birthday to Michael, who turned twenty-four over the weekend.  Perhaps one day he will regale Us with a spellbinding recital of What We Ever Did To Him.  Or perhaps not.

Meanwhile, as the iceberg cleaves the Titanic that is Our life in twain,  and the stench of colossal failure continues to surround Us, We would like to point out that We would much prefer to fail miserably at one thing at a time, instead of at everything at once, ThankYouVeryMuch. And, to quote the immortal Bard (William Shakespeare, not Brigitte Bardot.  Philistines.), “Wilt thou truly kicketh Us thus whilst We are down?  Seriously, motherfuckers?” (It is a little-known litter-hairy fact that Shakespeare coined the term “motherfuckers” in his epic tragedy, Coriolanus Uranus, Tori Amos. (Micro$oft Weird™, meanwhile, recognizes “motherfuckers” as a properly-spelled word.  However, when We just now mistyped it as “moethrfuckers”, it did not offer “motherfuckers” as a spelling suggestion.  Apparently, Micro$oft Weird™ is afraid of getting its mouth washed out with soap.))

Speaking of plays, the Philadelphia theatrical community (did We really just SAY that?) will be gathering this evening for the annual Barrymore Awards For Excrement In Theatre. This particular member of said community will be elsewhere, earning money participating in a focus group.  On hot sauce.  Because, when your life is circling the drain, you really need to be more focused on hot sauce.

Speaking of speaking of plays, since We know you always do everything We tell you to, you should be busy buying tickets to Snoop Doggy Dogg and the Teenage Gangbang Miniseries, or some such, now appearing at Allens Lane .  Possibly more accurate information can be found here: . In addition to Snoop Doggy Dogg, the show stars Our MizCynthia, the Vaginally-Challenged Brittany Lynn, and Ashton Kutcher as The Beaver.  It’s an hour long, and you can drink during it.  Would We steer you wrong?

And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for: heh.  Ashton Kutcher said “beaver”.  Alternatively, the HorrorScope:

Try not to worry too much about what you can see and hear today (Thank you, Helen Keller.  (WAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!))

— it’s the stuff going on behind your back that should keep your attention!  (With all those knives back there, how could it not?)

Do what you can to boost your reputation.  (Okay:  We may be A Loser, but We’re The BIGGEST Loser!  (Howzzat?))

Do you live to work, or do you work to live? (That question works better if you replace at least one verb with “fail”.)

If you’re focusing too much on earning a paycheck for the sake of your family, keep in mind that your family would rather spend time with you than with your wallet. (Clearly, you have not met Our family.)

Make an effort to cut down your hours and increase the amount of face time you get with the people you care most about. (We’ve tried that.  The silence is, how you say, deafening. (Insert another Helen Keller joke here.))

This might make for a difficult juggling act at first, (And We know you’re all just DYING to see Us juggle.)

but you’ll soon see how much happiness and harmony it adds to your life. (How much you wanna bet somebody misreads the order, and We wind up with a metric fuckton of harpiness and hominy.)

  You’re destined to find the best approach in asking someone new out on a date the more you try different methods.  (We’re pretty sure the only method of getting somebody to date us these days would be “at gunpoint”.)

Suggest a casual cup of coffee? (What, We’re dating people in 12-step programs now?)

Or maybe a midnight movie marathon? (Honey, if We’re still on this date at midnight, We sure as hell better not be at the movies.)

Or perhaps a bowling challenge would be a blast? (On second thought, maybe We’ll just stay home and masturbate.)

Practice makes perfect. (And malpractice makes pluperfect.  What’s your goddamn point?)

 (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.