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Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Your looks are laughable, unphotographable

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for IfIt’sTuesdayThisMustBeBelching, February 14, 2012.  It has come to Our attention that, due to Our absence from The City Of Brotherly Love Handles and the intervening weekend, We have been completely remiss in not wishing a very happy twenty-fourth birthday to Abraham Lincoln, hence today’s Erix Daily Horoscope Pixture Du Jour Au Jus Leave The Driving To Us.

(Yes, We are aware that “today’s…Pixture Du Jour” is redundant.  We are also aware that “Jus” does not rhyme with “Us”.  We are further aware that fuck you.)

Those of you who know Us personally and are somewhat familiar with Our personal habits and routines will be shocked-We-tell-you-shocked to hear that, since Our return, We have not so much as set foot in the Ack-A-Me.  Saturday and Sunday We ate Things That Were Found In Our Freezer for $500, Alex (hey, We hadda eat ‘em before CSI identified ‘em), and yesterday Our Sistah Ovella and We were The Ladies Who Lunch in Souf Philly.  Speaking of which, We have the most amazing new place to go out to lunch.  No, We’re not gonna tell you, We’re gonna make you take Us there.  Trust Us, if you wanna be as out to lunch as We are, you will love it.

Speaking of Oscars™, please share Our Aquarius fillum with your friends:

(How was THAT for a goddamn segue?)

You are no doubt wondering, especially if you are a naked skimmer of long standing (and if you are a naked skimmer, you should be standing, lest you leave butt prints on the chair (also, if you are THE naked skimmer who We always picture when We say “naked skimmer”, you should drop a person a line)), when We are going to begin Our annual screed about the dreaded VD.  Well, having reviewed last year’s screed, We found that We would be hard-pressed to improve upon it, so here it is:

(Before We begin, We would like to alert Erix Daily Horoscope scholars, and students of the future who may be writing dissertations on these e-pisstles that, for some reason, The Royal We is not employed in the following e-pissode.  Make of that what you will.)

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Monday, February 14, 2011.  Happy VD to One and All, Monte Hall, All and Sundry, and Solomon Grundy.  May all your chancres be pustulent, and may all your pustules be chancrous.  May your pubic lice dance a conga line around your anal warts as your Chlamydia sing the Hallelujah Chorus in B Flat Minor.  May it burn both when you pee, and when you are peed upon.

Who says I can’t get into the holiday spirit?  Those were some LOVELY VD sentiments, if I do say so myself.  Why I don’t have a jawb writing Hallmark™ cards, I haven’t got any idea.

I did, of course, have to pause in mid-poetic licentiousness to Google “Who the fu(k is Solomon Grundy?” on Wikipedia.  Then, of course, I was sorry I asked.

Micro$oft Weird™ is suggesting that I might like to end the first paragraph with a question mark, as in “…when you are peed upon?”  I think it is confusing “when you are peed upon” with “pardon me, do you have any Grey Poupon™?”, which is actually an entirely different fetish into which we shall most assuredly not be delving here.

If you focus all of your attention on the fact that I actually just used the word “delving”, you will probably be able to drive all those “Dirty Sanchez” thoughts right out of your head.  You’re welcome.

I really shouldn’t complain so about VD.  I did, at least, get my annual VD card from Johnny Depp.    Why he can’t be a little more attentive the OTHER three hundred and sixty-four days of the year is a mystery to me. (Is it just me, or, when one says “VD card” instead of spelling it out, doesn’t it sound like it should come from a clinic, and contain phrases like “one of your sexual partners who wishes to remain anonymous” and “please report for blood testing”?)

In other news, did any of YouPeople see the Leonardo DiCaprio fillum Inception? Confusing, no?  Imagine how much MORE confusing if you fell asleep for a little while in the middle, and had a nightmare while you were out, then woke up and watched the rest of the movie without having a clue as to what you’d missed.  I would have tried to go back and figger it all out, but Leonardo didn’t so much send a VD card this year.

I wonder if that little mid-movie nappy-poo is the reason I found myself Up An Adam (heh) at the crack of ass this morning? (I was up SO early, in fact, that when I typed “Up An Adam” just now, I couldn’t think of a single celebrity named Adam.  So I went to Google “Adam” on Wikipedia and see what came up, but I got distracted Googling “Leonardo DiCaprio naked” instead.  When I finally got around to Googling “Adam”, the first hits were “Adam Sandler”, “Adam Lambert”, and a couple of other Adams I didn’t know from Adam.)

I’d better start the horoscope before this deteriorates any further.  Or before Himself gets out of bed and tries to “contribute”.  (Yeah, like THAT could happen.)

Happy VD! (Yes, she did actually use the words.  Yes, I edited it.  Because I Have That Power.)

Yes, it’s here. (By “here”, of course, she means “it burns where I pee”.)

Finally. (Finally the finale, sneaking through the alley with Sally.  Couldja start the fu(kin’ horoscope already, asshat?)

(Micro$oft Weird™ seems not to think that “asshat” is a word.  Apparently, Micro$oft Weird™ has never met Kelli the Ass(tromalogical) Ho(roscopulist).  It suggests that I might want to replace it with, amongst other things, “asphalt”.  Which is, oddly enough, NOT one of the things it suggests I might use to replace “assfart”  Which is a word I just made up.  As opposed to “asshat”. Which is, as we all know, a perfectly legitimate word, meaning wearing one’s ass as a hat, putting Uranus where your mouth is, and spewing forth shit into The Universe.)

Now, knowing you (Which you DON’T.)

— the most notorious of the three fire signs, all of whom are famous for procrastination (Dat’s me, da infamous rapper, Notorious Pee.)

— you need to get busy and get some shopping done. (Mmm-hmm.  Because nothing says “VD” like pushing a cart through the Ack-A-Me on Double Coupon Day.  How the hell did I get from “Leonardo DiCaprio naked”  to THIS?)

Okay, then, it’s time to kick it into gear. (Honey, if I start kicking it, I may not stop until I kick it into the middle of next week.)

Take a long lunch (It’s not even nine o’clock in the morning yet.  Lunch?)

and take this list along with you: at least one rose, a loving but absolutely not overly sappy card, and, if you feel it’s appropriate, a little gift — something that will let your sweetheart know how special they are. (VD…the gift that keeps on giving.)

That’s for starters. (And Beano™’s for farters.  What’s your point?)

The rest you can play by ear. (If I could play by ear, I’d have my own band.  Any idiot can blow the bass player.  (No, I have no idea what I’m talking about.  Why do you ask?))

You feel more productive than ever today (Gastrointestinally, at any rate.)

— but you may not have much choice on what you get done. (How ‘bout WHO I get done?  Can I at least choose that?)

 It’s one of those days when you are sure that there’s something still left to do. (So many men, so little time.)

 You haven’t tortured yourself (Why bother, when The Universe is so eager to do it for me?)

over that one particular ex in a while, (It’s so much easier to bury ‘em in the basement, now that I own a house.)

but right now it’s weighing heavily on your heart. (Not, of course, as heavily as the chainsaw weighed on theirs, but still…)

Now is the time to say good-bye. (So long, farewell, auf wiedersehn, fu(k off.)

(Your Your-O-Scopes:

(Meanwhile, why We didn’t think of this sooner, We’ve got no idea, but better laid than necking, as they say (and how right they are!).  For real live actual ass(tromlaogical) ho(roscopular) advice, please visit Our good friend AstroGeek here:  Our Own epistular musings are of use to you only insofar as making you feel better by comparison, but he will give you actual pertinent advice for your very own lives, based on upon the positions and transitations of all manner of planets, planetoids, asteroids, Altoids™, hemorrhoids, and other heavenly flotsam, jetsam, and Jetsons.  Plus, he knows all about Uranus!)
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.