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Friday, December 30, 2011

Who are you doing New Year’s, New Year’s Eve?



Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for New Year’s Eve Eve, Eve was weak, dirty pillows, etc.   Today’s epistle will be somewhat abbreviated, as We must be off to purchase pork and kielbasa. (We wish that were (subjunctively) a euphemism, but sadly, it is not.)

We just paused to ponder how one might actually abbreviate an epistle, and came up with “episs”.  Which led to further speculation on the fact that, prior to the advent of computers, We just had plain old mail, and now We have email.  So presumably, back in the day, We had plain old pistles, and now We have epistles.  We do so hope these speculations don’t episs off the Corinthians.

That there was a little biblical humor.  Much like the one about Mary Magdalene and the whoopee cushion.  Here is another bit of biblical humor that We encountered on the WorldWideInterWebnetz this morning: 

Church is pretty much a book club where they assign the same book every week, but everyone still forgets to read it.

In still other news, We are having serious SitOnMyFaceBook issues.  We were minding Our own business yesterday, attempting to update Our status by posting the link to yesterday’s e-pistle and a quote from http://www.textsfromlastnight.com when We noted that SOMFB was not so much letting Us post.  Naturally, We tried a number of times, and were finally informed that, due to some unspecified infraction, We would have “limited access” for “a few days”.  “Limited access” apparently means that We can look at SOMFB, but We can’t post anything or send any messages.  Which pretty much defeats the whole purpose of social media.   We also discovered, buried deep in the SOMFB bylaws, the fact that, because We tried to post repeatedly, “a few days” might mean any damn thing.  If anyone is looking for Us, We’ll be over on MySpace.  (At least We know there’ll be more people there than there are on Google+.)

So could folks help a social media whore out and share Our Capricorn video with your friends?  Or stick it on your page?  Or send it to the folks at the Logo network and get Us a damn contract?


You can share it using this:


You can see it here:


Maybe if We just offer Jesse Eisenberg a few biblical favors, We can find Our way out of this mess.

And now, Charlene Tilton reads John Milton to Paris Hilton.  Alternatively, The HorrorScope:

 Make sure that you’re using your energy in the right way (Blowing Jesse Eisenberg, yes?)

(Ooops….was that vulgar?  Too bad, so sad, anal sex with your dad.)

— and that those around you are getting at least some of the benefit of it. (Jesse Eisenberg won’t know what hit him.  We can suck a golf ball through a garden hose.)

(What do We want?
A cure for Tourette’s!
When do We want it?
Cunt!)

(We love that joke.)

 You should be able to help yourself as you help the world.  (God helps those who helps themselves, so We’ll help Ourself to another helping of Hamburger Helper™.)

(Where did that saying come from?  We’re reasonably sure that Hamburger Helper™ isn’t in the bible.  Loaves-and-Fishes Helper™, probably, and Manna Helper™ almost definitely, but We’re pretty sure they didn’t kill the fatted calf and mix it up with Hamburger Helper™.  (They probably used Manwich™.))

(Hey, if RepubliKlan presidential candidates can make up what the bible says, so can We.)

Someone you usually have a real problem with is going to be a bigger part of this day than you’d ideally like or so you think, (We can only IMAGINE what that means.  Presumably, We’ll wind up having to blow Mark Zuckerberg instead of Jesse Eisenberg, when, all things considered, obviously…







…wait for it…







…are you ready?...














…We’d rather be an Eisenberger helper™ than a Zuckerberger Helper™.  (Oh, the comedy!  Our sides, they split; Our pants, We pee.))

but the good news is (There’s good news?)

that you will slowly find yourself getting to like their little idiosyncrasies as the day moves forward. (Why is it that, as soon as somebody tries to dismiss something as “a little idiosyncrasy”, it always turns out to be like cannibalism, or pedophilia, or the Spanish Inquisition?)

 Maybe it’s the more flexible mood you’ve been in lately, maybe it’s the pleasant turn in the weather, or maybe it’s just because you’re tired of being annoyed by them. (Or maybe Justin Bieber’s pubes.  (Hey, he’s seventeen.  If We ask him “que pasa?”, We can fuck him, as long as We eat him afterwards.)

(That was a little “cannibalism, pedophilia, Spanish inquisition” joke.  For all of Our pervert readers.)

(We used to be into S&M, necrophilia, and bestiality, but then We realized We were just beating a dead horse.)


Whatever the reason, rejoice in the fact that the day’s frustration level will be low.  (That’s what Jesse Eisenberg said.)

 Okay, guys and gals, (“Gals”?  Seriously?  What the hell is it, 1957?)

it’s time to set some goals. (You set the goals, Asshat; We’ll take care of the goalies.)

 Not the kind at either end of the football field — the romantic kind, sillies! (“Sillies”?  Oh, it’s 1957 on Fire Island.)

Who do you want to love, and when? (This is an Ass(tromalogical) Ho(roscopulation)….you’re supposed to be telling Us.)

 (Your YOUR-O-Scopes:

http://www.humorscope.com)
                            
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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.