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Monday, January 31, 2011

Can you tell me how to get, how to get to Sesame Street?


Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Monday, January 31, 2011.  Happy We’ve-Finally-Put-An-End-To-Fecking-January.  Also, Happy Eve of the Snowpocalypse.  One imagines that if One keeps saying the weather can blow One, One will eventually get a blowjob.  One is wrong.

I am hastening like hasty pudding (whatever the hell that is) to get today’s Erix Daily Horoscope out the proverbial door, as it is being awaited by at least one Faithful Reader with bated breath (NOT “baited breath”….we’ve discussed this before) to see if I am indeed a discreet lady.  Longer-term Faithful Readers would realize that one thing I have always agreed with Himself upon is that Discretion is The Better Part of Valour.  (Also, Digression is The Better Part of Velour.  (See what I did there?  (No, really…see?  I had a digression about digression.  Because I’m British, and we’re funny that way. (Not, of course, so much “funny: ha-ha” as “funny: the hat the Queen’s wearing today looks exactly like the backside of a female gorilla”.))))  All of which is to say, tales will not be told out of school, no one’s reputation will be tarred with the tarry brush of tarriness, and All’s Well That Ends Well, odds bodkins and forsooth.  (Many Yanks assume that we Brits are constantly saying things like “odds bodkins”…in reality, I don’t even know what the fu(k it means.)

At any rate, you’re welcome.

Speaking of queens, I must also hasten hastily through this epistle like a hasty haste-making waster so that I can wake up Himself and force him out into today’s sunshine before the deluge begins this evening.  A little Vitamin D could do a body good.  (Especially if that D happens to stand for “Dick”.  I’m just sayin’.)

Now that absolutely no one has any idea what I’m talking about, here is the horoscope proper:

Try to stay grounded today (Really?  Shall I be sent to bed without supper as well?)

— though that might seem pretty hard. (That’s what she said.)

It’s a good day for you to take it easy (Oh, Sweetie.  “Easy” is my middle name.)

and try to get some perspective (Kiss me quick, I’m MC Escher.  (I just never get tired of that joke.  (Please, Escher, don’t hurt ‘em.)))

when things seem more difficult than they usually do.  (Even more difficult than that is when things seem more difficult than a didgeridoo. Because what’s more difficult than that?  Not much.)

Energy is a very valuable — and finite — resource, as you can see in the rest of the world. (What the hell has the rest of the world got to do with anything?  We’ve got our own personal energy crisis, right here at Casa de Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs™.  Even if I stuck a broom up Himself’s ass, I’d still have to set him on fire to get him to sweep the floor.)

(You’re picturing that now, aren’t you?  Cheeky monkeys.  (Hmm…perhaps I’ll make a YouTube video…))

This is definitely something you should keep in mind in terms of your own enthusiasm and capabilities right now.  (Oh, yes, my enthusiasms.  Let me show them to you.)

Conservation is the right approach, (But don’t get it mixed up with constipation, or you just won’t give a shit. Also, a liberal amount of conservatism would seem to be a contradiction in terms, no?  Also also, all things in moderation, especially moderation.)

(What do we want? NONsense!  When do we want it?  Noun!)

so don’t overextend yourself too much. (Bend and stretch, reach for the stars…there goes Jupiter, up your arze….)

(That was a little song from my days in children’s television programming on Miss Starzina’s Romper Room School. (I never laid a fu(kin’ hand on those kids!))

It might be tempting to jump in and become a part of everything that’s going on around you, but resist the urge. (See, we Brits call them “jumpers”, but you Yanks call them “sweaters”.  You say “potato”, and I say, “non sequitur”.)

Put your attention only where it can do the most good.  (I’m sorry….what did you say?  (See what I did there?))

Before you send that message, check in with yourself. (Wait…I’m sending myself a message?  Why?  Wasn’t I listening when I was talking to myself?)

Is this really someone you want to meet, or are you just killing time? (I’m guessing it’s really someone I want to kill.  (It’s a pretty safe bet.  This winter crap is making me want to kill pretty much everyone.))

 Stay open to fresh opportunities. (Oh, I am WIDE open.  Fully dilated, as it (subjunctively) were. Oh, look…Jupiter just fell out!)

(Micro$oft Weird™ is suggesting that I change “dilated” to “diluted”, but that’s a whore of another color.)

Ambiguity only complicates matters. (Promiscuity, on the other hand, fornicates EVERYbody. (Hey, you put YOUR slogan on YOUR T-shirt, I’ll put MY slogan on MINE.))
 
(Your YOUR-O-Scopes:

http://www.humorscope.com )
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.



Thursday, January 27, 2011

She bangs, she bangs



Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Thursday, January 27, 2011.  Happy belated birthday to Petr, who turned twenty-four yesterday, while I was bemoaning yet another humpless Hump Day filled with snow.  Not to put too fine a poetic point on it, but this weather and whoever thought it up are cordially invited to French kiss the dingleberries off the poop-encrusted hairs on my anal warts.  (I’m British….we’re poetical like that.  We invented William Shakespeare.  Who knew, unlike Micro$oft Weird™, that “dingleberries” is ONE word, not two.  (How could it be two words, when they’re all stuck together like that?))

Moving on from this scintillating discussion of Things That Orbit Uranus, Himself has already been out to shovel, and is now back in his jammies, nursing his incipient heart attack.  Poor lamb…you will recall that, in this space, I have related that, in Himself’s  Dream Universe, despite having lost his jawb, he still has to go there every day and do nothing for no pay.  Well, last night, Rastus The House Ninja (only Cathy and Dena will get that (Hi, Cathy!  Hi, Dena!)) informed him that it Just Wasn’t Working Out.  It would be nice to believe that that would put an end to this horrific dream cycle, but we are not holding our breath.

In more cheerful news, I have stumbled upon a veritable treasure trove of candidates for Erix Daily Horoscope Pixture Du Jour Au Jus Charles de Gaulle  Maurice Chevalier Jerry Lewis.  Witness today’s bright, colorful example.  So yay, me!

You are going through a spiritual renewal today — or at least beginning one.(Oh, indeed.  My spirit is a library book.  With the last pages missing, and a deeply suspicious stain on the dustjacket.  (Oh, shut up, Micro$oft Weird™….”dustjacket” is like “dingleberries”: All.One.Word.)  Speaking of spirits, I shall be learning to make an Old Fashioned in time for Happy Hour.  I was reading the recipe earlier…it contains the word “muddle”, so I ought to be brilliant at it.  Bottoms up!)

(This would be an excellent place for another Uranus joke.  If only I knew one.)

It may take quite a while to reveal the outcome, (Not really…the rule of learning to mix new drinks is that you have to drink your mistakes.)

(Hic.)

(Actually, it’s only 10:30 in the morning here, so I’m not polishing my mixology skills just yet.)

(NOW Micro$oft Weird™ is objecting to “mixology”.  It suggests that I might prefer “mycology” instead.  (Seriously.)  Hey, more cocktail for ME!)

but you should take heart (“Take heart” is shorthand for “open chest with chainsaw”, yes?)

in the fact that it is happening at all!  (I am so far from the beginning of whatever this alleged “thought” is that I cannot possibly be arsed to go back and figure it out.  Too bad, so sad, anal sex with your dad.)

Take stock in one of your closest relationships today (My closets are having a relationship?!?)

— it is natural for people to drift apart,(All the way to Uranus?)

but you may not be realizing how quickly this friendship is fading. (Trust Woolite™ for your fine washables.  (Hey, we’ve got no income here…we could use the advertising revenue.))

A recent social outing didn’t turn out to be as much fun as you were hoping. (Well, duh.  Who DIDN’T already know that Ricky Martin was gay?)

Was it just a case of having unrealistic expectations, or are you guys drifting apart? (You’re just DARING me to put “Ricky Martin” and “Uranus” in the same sentence together, aren’t you?  Cheeky monkey.)

Readjust your expectations (Yeah, they’re not so great, are they?  (That was a little litter-airy joke for my little hairy friends.  (Charles Dickens was a HACK who was paid by the word.))

and realize that you can work through this change if you both want to. (I found a quarter in the Ack-A-Me parking lot on two separate occasions this week.  (Yes, I KNOW you’re jealous, but you really couldn’t handle the glamour of being me.))

It may be time to have an honest heart-to-heart talk.  (Two hearts, one chainsaw.  (Isn’t that a song from West Side Story?))

 You know you need to use your emotions and your power — wisely. (Where’s the fun in THAT?)

Someone you’re probably not all that attracted to has a crush on you, though. (My world and welcome to it.)

You have to be honest, direct and compassionate. (Back off, you monkeybutt-ugly dingleberry muncher; I wouldn’t sleep with you if I’d eaten my weight in Viagra™ and you had the last warm hole on the planet.  (D’you think I overdid the “compassionate” part?))

(And since when is “muncher” not a word?  Jeebus!)
 
(Your YOUR-O-Scopes:

http://www.humorscope.com )
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.



Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Lady Godiva was a freedom rider; she didn’t care if the whole world looked



Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Tuesday, January 25, 2011.  So, yesterday, SitOnMyFaceBook suggested I befriend someone who’s been dead for several years.  In fact, I don’t think said deceased person even HAD a SitOnMyFaceBook page during life.  Is it me, or is this really creepy on several levels?

In less macabre news, I robbed both the Ack-A-Me and the CVS yesterday…seriously.  The following items were free:  a 500-ml bottle of Crest Pro-Health™ mouthwash, some sort of breath-spray appetite suppressant (totally bogus, “As Seen On TV”, but, still, FREE), some new-fangled Schick™ refillable razor with five blades (not with five replacement blades, mind you, but with five blades ALL AT ONCE…Imma have the smoothest cootchie on my block (well, having seen my block, perhaps that’s not the superlative that it might be, but, still, my cootchie’s gonna be pretty damn smooth)), a pack of ten Mission™ tortillas, and a Zone™ nutrition bar.  (Actually, with my coupon, they PAID me ten cents to carry that nutrition bar out of their store.)

Clearly, I should promptly be hired as someone’s personal shopper.  (Or cootchie smoother.)

For some reason, despite the predicted God’s-taking-another-crap-on-us weather forecast, there are roofers on my roof, roofying away.  Either that, or they’re Peeping Toms trying to get as glimpse of my cootchie.  (One is given to wonder just why exactly these peepers are named Tom…apparently, there is an historical reason.  Granted, it’s boring, but still.)

Himself, naturally, is still fast abed.  When last heard from, he was having  a dream about being home-schooled.  In college.  By his father.  We’ll be tip-toeing past THAT room for the rest of the day.

Your regard for your mate or coworker makes all the difference today. (Okay, even when I HAD a jawb, I did NOT mate with my coworkers.)

Basic respect gets you much farther than anything else right now, (And Basic Wiring is a Time-Life™ book.  So the fu(k what?)

and it’s easier than ever for you to open up and accept people.  (Well, it’s certainly easy to open them up, at any rate.  As long as you’ve got plenty of petrol in your chainsaw.)

To say the past couple of days have been tricky won’t really capture the spirit of the times. (I BEG your pardon?  I haven’t turned a single trick in MONTHS.)

In fact, you’ve had it with just about everyone and everything. (Oddly enough, I have a T-shirt that says that very thing.  In sequins.)

Fortunately, you have two entire days at your disposal to separate yourself from whoever or whatever has just pushed your buttons for the very last time. (What is this “two days” of which you speak?  I was unaware that there was a deadline.  Why, we are rapidly approaching Groundhog Day, when, no doubt, winter will start all over again.)

Take a friend along — as a witness. (Or take two friends along…one as a witness to your fitness, the other as a witness to your whiteness.  Or maybe take a third friend, too.  In case your fitness witness gets scared shitless, or your whiteness witness turns witless.  (Kiss me quick, I’m Dr. Seuss.))

Oh, and to vouch for you.  (Ya know, if you stare at the word “vouch” long enough, it ceases to make any sense whatsoever.  Go ahead; try it and see.  I’ll wait.)

 (See?)

The key to romantic success right now isn’t to knock them out.  (Well, so much for that roofie plan, then.)

Instead of living large (Honey, I’ve had to hire a midget with a wheelbarrow to haul my ass around behind me; ain’t no choice butt “living large”.)

(You did notice that that sentence had “ass”, “behind”, and “butt” all in it, didn’t you?  (Sometimes I feel as though I’m in here telling jokes to myself.))

— even with that energy (I haven’t any energy.  I have, however, got a free energy bar.  (Who will pay me to go shopping for them?))

— you need to draw that hottie out (In my experience, they won’t sit still for that.)

and learn more about them. (That sounds like a lot of work.  Are you sure the roofie plan is no good?)

They’re sure to find you fascinating.  (Mmm-hmm.  Also, “she has such a nice personality”  and/or “but she has such a  pretty face”.  Also also, “she’s not fat; she’s big boned.”  The check is in the mail, the dog ate my homework, and he won’t come in your mouth.)

(Hmm…in re-reading that, I appear to be saying that the dog won’t come in your mouth.  Pronouns are funny.  Not, of course, so much “funny: ha-ha” as “funny…with a knick-knack paddy whack, give a dog a blowjob”.  (Clearly, it has been a while since we’ve had a bestiality joke in here.  (I used to be into S&M, necrophilia, and bestiality, but then I realized I was just beating a dead horse.)))

(Your YOUR-O-Scopes:

http://www.humorscope.com )
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.



Monday, January 24, 2011

Baby, it’s cold outside


Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Monday, January 24, 2011.  Happy belated birthday to Deedee, who turned twenty-four over the weekend.  In case you’re having trouble translating today’s Erix Daily Horoscope Pixture Du Jour Au Jus Christian Dior Yvette Mimieux, it says, “You are cordially invited to blow the fu(king weather out your big fat smelly hairy @sshole.”  Sheer poetry, no?  Here at Casa de Crackpot, we require a three- or four-day window in the precipitatory aspects of said anally-expelled weather in order to have our roofer come over and take our leak.  And it looks like that is not going to happen yet again this week.  Needless to say (she said, promptly saying it anyway (as One does)), we are less than thrilled.

In other news, we are just DAYS AWAY from a WaitStaffian announcement of mammoth proportions (no, it has nothing to do with the size of Himself’s @ssz.) You are all, no doubt, simply lactating with anticipation.  As you do.

“Lactating with anticipation.”  Heh.  I kill me.  Milk…it does a body good.

Apropos of nothing, here is a joke:

A nice, calm and respectable lady went into the pharmacy, walked up to the pharmacist, looked straight into his eyes, and said, “I'd like to buy some cyanide."
The pharmacist asked, "Why in the world do you need cyanide?”
The lady replied, "I need it to poison my husband."
The pharmacist's eyes got big and he explained, "I can't give you cyanide to kill your husband, that's against the law! I'll lose my license! They'll throw both of us in jail! All kinds of bad things will happen. Absolutely not! You CANNOT have any cyanide!"
The lady reached into her purse and pulled out a picture of her husband in bed with the pharmacist's wife.
The pharmacist looked at the picture and said, "You didn't tell me you had a prescription."

You’re not being selfish today;  (How the hell did THAT happen?)

that much is clear. (Well, at least SOMETHING’S clear.  Meanwhile, speaking of clear, it LOOKS like a beautiful day outside.  Unfortunately, all reports are that it is as cold as the proverbial witch’s tit in the proverbial brass brassiere. (Is it just me, or does a brass brassiere sound singularly uncomfortable regardless of ambient temperature?  And wouldn’t it turn your breastusses green? (If you think I worry about unusual things, you should hear the things I DON’T tell you about.)) Nevertheless, as apparently tomorrow God’s Ex-Lax™ is kicking in and some frigid heavenly crap is destined to fall upon us, I expect it would be prudent to go out for some form of constitutional today.)

Even if you do end up ahead, (How is it that one ends up Ahead, but BEhind?  Why not BEhead and Ahind?  (Is it just me, or does “Ahind” look like the name of some guy behind the counter at 7-Eleven?))

your friends and colleagues are likely to end up even further along, thanks largely to your team spirit.  (Oddly enough, my team spirit smells like teen spirit.  (If anyone would care to send over a drunken nineteen-year-old for a comparison, I’d be eternally grateful.))

It’s going to be an interesting day, (Although you’d certainly never know it from this horoscope.)

as the expression goes, (There’s an expression that says, “It’s going to be an interesting day “?  Am I the only one who’s unfamiliar?)

complete with the possibility of a visit from the dreaded green-eyed monster. (To say nothing of the green-titted witch in the brass brassiere.   (See?  There’s a thread here and everything.  Meanwhile, Micro$oft Weird™ informs me that “titted” is not a word.  Especially when one puts three Ts in the middle of it.  But even with two Ts, it is frowning upon it.  And suggesting that I might wish to replace it with “tatted”, “totted”, “twitted”, “titter”, or “tilted”. None of which is the same thing at all.  I suppose “titty-twister” is out of the question?))

If it shows up, don’t blame yourself. (I need a scapegoat!)

Jealousy is in the air; it has been for some time now. (All things considered, I’d rather be sniffing the teenagers.)

 That doesn’t mean you did anything to cause it, or that you’re responsible. (Oh, please. Once that drunken nineteen-year-old shows up, I’ll show you just how irresponsible I can be.)

Your only defense is to be honest, stand your ground and explain what happened.  (I was swimming where some boys were.)

After that’s done, you can only hope they understand.  (Understand.  The first word I ever heard…(All the gay bois are now hysterical.  Everybody else is all “WTF?”))


There’s no time like the present to put a little romantic energy out there!  (Considering the back-alley abortion that is today’s weather, I am thinking one might want to keep one’s “romantic energy” indoors.  Just sayin’.)

Don’t go all-out (Or balls-out.  Because it’s COLD out there!)

— simply helping a colleague or complimenting a cute stranger can make your world brighter.  (Does the cute stranger happen to be a drunken nineteen-year-old?)


  (Your YOUR-O-Scopes:

http://www.humorscope.com )
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.



Friday, January 21, 2011

If you want to buy my wares, follow me and climb the stairs



Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Friday, January 21, 2011.  Happy birthday to Brandon, who turns twenty-four today, and also to Peter, who (coincidentally) also turns twenty-four today.

Peter is the creator and star of this:


…in which Himself appears.  Himself also appears in the following, which he created:


All praise to the creators.

I am letting Himself sleep in this morning, as the weatherman’s “three inches” has turned into a mere dusting which will be dealt with shortly by the sun in lieu of Himself’s  shovel.   Isn’t that just like a man, to overestimate his inches?  (Although what the hell anybody was supposed to do with THREE inches, I haven’t got any idea.  You’d have to put that in at least twice…)

Sorry…just a little vulgarity early in the morning.  Gets the blood flowing, don’t’cha know.   So I’ve precious little else to report.  The faux snow has prevented the roofer from coming to take our leak.  He was here for an estimate the day before last…apparently, Himself was had, as it were, by ContractorBoi.  As I’ve always told him, don’t be distracted by a pretty face, unless they let you sit down on it.

I am emptying the dishwasher as I write this.  Well, not, of course, AS I write it, but in between writing it, as I think new bits of it up.  (That was meant to be a fascinating behind-the-scenes glimpse at The Making Of Erix Daily Horoscope.  Turns out, it was every bit as boring as everything else up to this point.  Sigh.  My life as a drudge, and welcome to it.)

You may find yourself overly frustrated with your work or chores today, (Work or chores, cork or whores, let’s call the whole thing awful.)

(Something tells me that, today, I could empty TEN dishwashers, and this still isn’t going to get any funnier.)

thanks to weird details that don’t line up with your expectations. (Oh, Christ…I’d better NOT be expecting. (Hmm…how can you be expecting if you don’t expect to be?  There’s a little English-language conundrum for you all to ponder.))

Try to relax and make sure you’ve got the right backup.  (Oh, Ducks, please.  Have you seen the size of me lately?  I BEEP when I backup.  Why, if I were (subjunctively) Gladys Knight, I’d’ve killed sixteen sets of Pips by now.)

As much as the eight hours we necessarily devote to earning our daily bread (How much bread can one woman eat?)

do cut into our social life, (Our what?)

most of us manage to get through it, sometimes even with just a hint of a smile and a positive attitude. (Alternatively, with a rabid pit bull and a chainsaw.)

Today, however, that may be especially tough to pull off, so do yourself a favor: (Newsflash:  “pulling off” IS “doing yourself a favor”.  Wanker.)

(Heh.  “Wanker.”   See what I did there?)

Dangle a career carrot (And YouPeople accused ME of being vulgar!)

of your own creation (All praise to the creators.  See above.)

in front of you to get yourself through the day, then make terrific plans for the evening. (If “horrific” is “horrible” and “horror-inspiring”, wouldn’t “terrific” be “terrible” and “terror-inspiring”?)

Feeling good is the first part of looking good, (except nobody cares how you FEEL, as long as you LOOK good.)

so do something to center yourself and get your heart pumping today. (Fine.  As soon as I finish writing this, I’ll go “do myself a favor”.  (Too much information?  Too bad, so sad, anal sex with your dad.))

A healthy you is a happy you — and a happy you is completely irresistible! (Much like an uncorked whore.  (There’s STILL no joke there.  DAMMIT!))

  (Your YOUR-O-Scopes:

http://www.humorscope.com )
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.


Thursday, January 20, 2011

Beef-A-Roni™’s really neat, Beef-A-Roni™’s fun to eat, Beef-A-Roni™ can’t be beat, HOORAY for Beef-A-Roni™!



Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Thursday, January 20, 2011.  SO sorry about that subject line, Ducks, but if it’s stuck in MY head, why shouldn’t it be stuck in YOURS?

It would appear that, for something new and different, we’re going to have snow tonight and tomorrow.  Oh, the Winter Wonderlandishness of it all!  (For those of us in The City That Loves You (On Your) Back, “Wonderland” is a head shop.  Not sure how that relates to anything, but I’m just putting it out there.)

HOORAY for Beef-A-Roni™!  And, of course, its vegan counterpart, Seitan-Roni™.  (I was in a restaurant over the weekend where, when the waitron said “seitan”, it sounded like she was saying “Satan”.  Hilarity ensued.  The vegans were not amused.  Until we sacrificed a virgin for them.  Not, of course, an actual virgin…a TOFU virgin.  With a seitan hymen.  (“Tofu virgin” is much like “kung pao chicken”.  Except there’s no chicken in it.  And it’s never been pao’ed.))

I have no idea what brought on the preceding paragraph, except possibly a desperate desire to dump on some minority other than the Esquimaux.  I trust that Our vegan friends will take it all in the spirit of fun in which it is intended, and not get their knickers in a twist.

I said “knickers”…pay closer attention.

Somewhere in there is a Chubby Checker joke…and how many times does anyone ever say THAT?

You Yanks are so TOUCHY.

Your action today can have profound effects on the future, (But it can’t change your past.  Although it could change your pants. (Of course by “pants”, we Brits mean what you Yanks mean by “underpants”.  That’s what makes it funny.  Try to keep up.))

so it’s time for you to take life a little more seriously (Why?  Nobody makes it out alive.)

— but only a little! (Rich Little?  Cleavon Little?  Little Red Riding Hood?)

You may want to make sure that you’re dealing with the right people.  (Something tells me that Rich Little, Cleavon Little, and Little Red Riding Hood are NOT “the right people”.)

You’re not usually prone to daydreaming. (I am, however, usually prone for nightdreaming.  Not that last night was a prime example.  Of course Himself is still fast abed, so who knows what epics are in the making?)

Like your equally action-oriented predecessors — warriors of all kinds — you’re much more inclined to sit down with someone rational and make a battle plan, more so than letting anything as sentimental as intuition guide your actions. (Is it just me, or does it sound as if someone has been playing a little too much Dungeons and Dragons?)

Right now, however, you’re feeling remarkably soft (Watch it, Missy.)

and totally willing to let your gut feelings direct your actions. (With a fart-fart here, and a fart-fart there; here a fart, there a fart, everywhere a fart-fart…Old MacDonald had to fart, ee-yi-ee-yi-oh.)

(And you Yanks think I’m not tapped into American culture.)

If you need to take a day or so away from the world to let all this settle, (Calgon™, take me away!)

stay home with family and friends and indulge in lots of snuggling. (I fail to see how fabric softener is going to improve anything.  Also, that bear freaks me out.)

Your move doesn’t have to be pushy — make it friendly, something that doesn’t involve a big commitment.  (If you come shovel my snow tomorrow, I’ll give you all the fabric softener you can drink.)

(Your YOUR-O-Scopes:

http://www.humorscope.com )
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.


Wednesday, January 19, 2011

See you soon, we must dash; when they’ve swept up the ash, we can meet down the street to have lunch



Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Wednesday, January 19, 2011.  Happy Hump Day to all, and to all a good hump.  Not that there will be any humping here, thank you.  Poor Himself is still fast abed, having bestirred Himself (heh) yesterday just long enough to shovel up whatever the latest pile of crap to fall from the sky was.  (Parenthetically (indicated, you will note, by parentheses (hence the adverb (I was going to write a new children’s book entitled Hence the Adverb, but then I figured, what six-year-old knows what the fu(k is an adverb (naturally, I am aware that “what the fu(k” is NOT an adverb, but you get what I mean)))), how is it possible that it’s January 19th, and yet it has snown sixty-two kabillion and eleventy-twelve days so far this year? (“Snow-snew-snown”…it’s a declension; try to keep up.))

Speaking of Himself, he’s really not having the best of luck with dreams lately.  He used to sit in meetings and dream of being anywhere else; now he has dreams about being in meetings.  Also, it is an ingrained part of his dream cycle, ever since having lost his jawb that, despite not having said jawb, he still has to show up at the EAC for work every day.  Last night, for example, he wound up having a nervous breakdown in a dream….his exact words being “Why do I keep going there?  They don’t pay me…”…and finally had to wake Himself up.

The point is, he is clearly losing what passes for his mind.

I wonder if I get the house?

Speaking of the loss of his mind, here is what he spent this past Sunday doing:


In still other news, stay tuned to this space for an upcoming bulletin about the WaitStaff.

Your affinity for children of all ages is peaking now, (It’s true; I do love children.  With some fava beans and a nice Chianti.)

so make the most of it!  (Well, I would, but it’s so difficult to cook children for one.)

Hang out with your own or your friends’, play little games at work or just make your life into something big and fun.  (How about the Spanish Inquisition? That was big and fun (well, it was fun if you happened to be an inquisitor.  Not, presumably, so much fun if you happened to be an inquisitee.  Those wacky Catholics.))

Okay, so that temper of yours may be a bit more obvious to others now. (REALLY?  DOES IT SHOW?  BECAUSE I WOULD HATE FOR OTHER PEOPLE TO BE UPSET BY HOW MUCH THEY’RE PISSING ME OFF.  REALLY. I WOULD. HATE IT.)

So what? (Been there, done that, bought the T-shirt.   So what, indeed.)

If anyone is entitled to show their anger---in controlled fashion, of course (If anyone’s looking for me, I’ll be outside making anger in the snow.)

— no physical stuff, unless it’s whacking at some fastballs, (Wait…I can whack them in the balls? With impunity?  (Or at least, with a baseball bat?))

(I almost said “cricket bat”, but then I realised I was talking to a lot of Yanks who were probably still stuck on trying to figure out what “impunity” meant.)

it’s you. (Ah.  So I am That Girl.  Kiss me quick, I’m Marlo Thomas.  (Have you Seen HER LATELY?  Talk about nipped when she should have tucked.))

Anger, assertion and aggression are your business!  (Alliteration is, apparently, yours.  Asshole.)

(See what I did there?)

Imagine a world where everyone was nice all the time. (Fu(k that noise.  Let’s imagine a world where everyone’s nice TO ME all the time.)

Eeewww!  (That word is actually spelled “eeeuuuwww”.  Has this woman no editor?)

Still, do yourself and the person you’d like to continue seeing a favor: Make a reservation at the batting cage and then go and practice. (Are you actually revisiting that sports metaphor from all those sentences ago?  And, if so, why?  It never worked the first time around.)

Mix an action flick with a light romantic comedy, hand the starring role to you and you can see how sweet your love life can be today! (Not as sweet as it would be if you mixed a porno in there.)

Today is perfect for shopping around your script to potential co-stars.  (Johnny Depp, to the white courtesy phone please…)

(Your YOUR-O-Scopes:

http://www.humorscope.com )
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.


Monday, January 17, 2011

Tell me why…I don’t like Mondays



Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Monday, January 17, 2011.  First and Formosa (Formosa…where the natives like to Taiwan on (shtick around for da jokes)), I would like to wish all you Yanks a very Happy Martin Luther King Junior Day.  We in the UK do not, of course, celebrate Martin Luther King Junior Day.  Not that we don’t have black people, mind you.  It’s just that we didn’t kidnap ours and force them into slavery.  You Americans and your wacky, zany, madcap sense of humour.   At any rate, I trust all of your Martin Luther King Junior Day trees are trimmed, your Martin Luther King Junior Day cookies are baked, your Martin Luther King Junior Day presents are wrapped, and your Martin Luther King Junior Day cards are mailed.  In honor of the holiday, today’s Erix Daily Horoscope Pixture Du Jour Au Jus Nipsey Russell Cleavon Little Moms Mabley is the front cover of The Hipster Huckleberry Finn, in which every occurrence of the N-word is replaced with “hipster”.  (I am well aware that I mentioned this very opus in an Erix Daily Horoscope just last week, but bugger off, you lot of bollocks-polishers; YOU try coming up with original material, day in, day out, in the midst of Seasonal Affective Disorder and the onset of menopause.)

Speaking of trees, here at Casa de Poorhouse, the Christmas tree just came down on Saturday, after a whopping seven weeks.  (That’s just an expression, actually; there was really precious little whopping going on.)  Not that Himself was any help…he was off appearing in some video or other with some of his artsy-fartsy friends.  (Also airy-fairy.  (Also Abercrombie and Fitch.))  More on that story as it develops.

I just accidentally found out who Luke Worrall is.  Can I ever get those brain cells back?

You need to deal with some family elders who are trying to take on too much — or pushing you too hard.  (Whatevs…could they send me a check?)

(Meanwhile, from the Wild and Woolly WorldWideInterWebNetz,  someone on SitOnMyFaceBook was lamenting the untimely demise of someone or another, and expressed a desire for said someone to “Rest In Piece”.  Sigh.  This does, however, lead in to the perfect opportunity to point out that, if I should drop dead all of a sudden, and you are so grief-stricken that you are updating your SitOnMyFaceBook status to tell all fourteen hundred and sixty-two of your very closest friends just how grief-stricken you are, then you are just not grief-stricken enough.  Jeebus.)

It may not be perfectly comfortable, but you can find a way to get them to listen.  (All that hollering sounds like a lot of work.)

You want to travel so badly that if you could, you’d be in a cab on your way to the airport right now, passport in hand.  (Sing it, Sister. (In other news, I just learned (again, via the WorldWideInterWebNetz) that today is also known as Blue Monday, and  is, statistically, the most depressing day of the year.  So there’s that.))

If duty calls, however  (Take a fu(king message…Starzina’s on the way to the Caribbean.)

— especially if it calls loudly enough to keep you off that plane— your sense of responsibility will kick in. (Kick THIS, bitch.)

In that case, the least you can do is to treat yourself to the company of someone new and exotic. (Or, better still, nude and erotic.  But not, presumably, nuked and anorexic.)

 Your reaction to a new romantic situation could be quite intense today, and while it’s essential to let it all out, make sure to think about how you do it — and, more importantly, to whom. (Ya know, if you actually stop to contemplate it, the preceding is really a filthy, dirty sentence.  Not that there’s anything wrong withthat.)

(Your YOUR-O-Scopes:

http://www.humorscope.com )
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.