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Friday, December 2, 2011

Bye-bye, Miss American Pie

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Thank Gawd It’s FryDaddy™, December Twoth, 2011. Happy birthday to Blair, who turns twenty-four today all the way across the state in La Pittsburgh.  And happy birthday in advance to Our Sistah Ovella, who turns twenty-four this weekend, and who used to have a bevy of Blairs all her very own. (Can there be any question that “bevy” is the correct collective noun for Blairs?  Much as geese come in gaggles (and, presumably, in other geese) and crows come in murders (and, presumably, in other crows), Blairs clearly come in bevies (and, presumably…well, you know).  Drove my bevy to the levee in my Chevy, and all that.)

We just learned that today is apparently Britney Spears’s birthday.  She is thirty.  Her name is an anagram for “Presbyterian”. We have no idea what to do with any of that information.

And that’s pretty much all We’ve got.  We have awakened this morning in a foul humor, occasioned, We believe, by the recurrence of Our recurring work nightmare, which We thought had finally stopped.  Also, it is apparently nuclear winter outside.  And We have any number of errands, chores, and tasks to complete before the imminent arrival of the holidays.  (Now, We know what you’re thinking.  (Oh, yes, We do; We’re psychic.)  You’re thinking, “What is the difference between an errand, a chore, and a task?”  Well, much like geese come in gaggles, and crows come in murders, shut up, you’re annoying Us.)

Speaking of Uranus, how ‘bout you all pull your heads out of yours and go watch this:

Then share it with your friends:

While your moon is in your halfway house, and Jupiter is behind bars, go buy tickets to what promises to be The Very Best Christmas Sketch Comedy Show EVAH (seriously, We are writing Our very faces off…Jesus and Mary are making an appearance, Santa and his friends will be there, and, of course, the Duchess, Marie, and Bev), Tuesday, December 20 at 8PM at Helium Comedy Club: The Real Housewives Of South Philly Occupy Christmas):  

And now, a gratuitous Charlene Tilton reference.  Après that, the HorrorScope:

 You need to drop out a little today (Do you pop out at parties?  Are you unpoopular?)

— try to do as little as possible. (Well, unlike Blairs, these errands, chores, and tasks are not going to do themselves. (Is anyone else now pixturing Blairs doing themselves?  Just Us?  Alrighty, then.))

(We would like to point out at this juncture that, although Our specific Blair and, indeed, Our Sistah Ovella’s Blairs are male, the pixturing of the Blairs doing themselves is an all-purpose fantasy, as the original Blair-ness of Our Sistah Ovella’s Blairs, most of whom were not actually named Blair, was based on her rooming with them at school and was a reference to the female Blair on The Facts of Life, in which Ovella’s roommates were dubbed Blairs because they were most assuredly not Jos, Natalies, or Tooties. (It occurs to Us, parenthetically (hence the parentheses) that the plural “Tooties” is even stupider than the singular.) Our Own Personal Blair, who IS actually named Blair, is also most assuredly not a Jo, a Natalie, or a Tootie.)

(Aren’t you glad We cleared that all up for you?)

(Orange you glad We didn’t say banana?)

If you can avoid work (How about nightmares about work?)

and even friends, (Why would We avoid Our friends?  (With frenulums like these, who needs enemas?))

you’re at your best. (Okay, that there?  Pathetic.)

It may be a good time to rest and recharge on your own.  (Indeed.  Because if this is “Our best”, something’s gotta change.)

Someone who is standing by your side during this weird time is going to stay by your side, so let go of any doubts you have about them today.  (Wait…suddenly Our Ass(tromalogical) Ho(roscopulist) has gone all reassuring on Us?  Jigga what?)

However, you do need to watch out for their creeping frustration.  (Ah, that’s more like it.  So they’re by Our side, but they want to kill Us.  Also, the calls are coming from inside the house.)

They are more impatient than you are, (Not. Possible.)

and could use a dose of your perspective (Kiss Us quick, We’re MC Escher. (Please, Escher, don’t hurt ‘em.))

to calm them down. (Okay, that?  Is why Gawd made Valium™.)

Show them that there is a light at the end of this tunnel. (Of course there is.  It’s called Uranus.)

If things are particularly unclear in the love department, (Wait…there’s a whole department?)

your well-meaning efforts to figure it out will only lead to further muddiness.  (As part of Our ongoing efforts to turn chicken shit into chicken salad, We are now pixturing Blairs mudwrestling each other.  You’re welcome.)

Devote your time to improving your love karma by giving someone else a hand. (Do We even need to put the joke here?)

 (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.