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Thursday, May 31, 2012

No matter how hopeless, no matter how far



Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Thursday, May 31, 2012.  So solly to have missed Hump Day; We know you were all just waiting with bated breath to hump Our unhumpable Self.  (If you did NOT just sing “to hump Our unhumpable Self” to the tune of “The Impossible Dream”, We shall pause here while you go back and rectumfy your error.  (If you DID just sing “to hump Our unhumpable Self” to the tune of “The Impossible Dream”, you are very, very old.  And possibly insane.))

We interrupt this stream-of-unconsciousness to inform you that We have just received an email whose subject line is “Hands-free fishing with Pole Pal”.   We were very excited, until We realized that it was not, in fact, a euphemism.  Sigh.  Clearly, OUR idea of a “Pole Pal” and theirs were two completely different animals.  (We meant a gay mail-order bride from Poland…why?  What did you think We meant?)

You may recall that, when last We spoke, We were on the verge of commencing construction of a bridge with which to get over Ourself.  In the intervening days, however, it has come to Our attention that We are, in fact, pretty fucking fabulous, so the rest of you will just have to get over Us.  And We’re not building you no bridge, neither.  So nanny-nanny-poo-poo.

(We mistyped “fucking” in that paragraph, and Micro$oft Weird™ didn’t autocorrect it.  How long have We been using this computer?)

In other news, some parent’s SitOnMyFaceBook status was just changed to inform Us that they will be dropping their child off at Lego Class.  Lego Class?  Seriously?  That’s a thing?

Speaking of classy things,  the WaitStaff will be playing The Match Game again by popular demand on Thursday, June 7 and Friday, June 8, at 7:30 at L’Etage at 6th & Bainbridge.  Did We mention that, the first time We played, a number of people came back for more than one performance?  Well, We did now.  Reservations are strongly suggested, and can be obtained here:  http://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/250950  Find more info on Our SitOnMyFaceBook event here:  http://www.facebook.com/events/429387893745900/  Be there or be square.

Here’s  the HorrorScope:

So, wait…it’s Brooke Shields’s birthday, and We don’t have the day off?  The hell?

Accidents happen (That’s why We’re wearing Depends™.  Cleverly disguised as Underoos™.  Scooby-Doo, scoopy-poo.)

— and on days like today, they are practically guaranteed!  (But if an accident is guaranteed, isn’t it kind of on purpose?)

(We are having such a fascinating morning….every time We type a sentence, We go and take some more crap out of the dishwasher.  We can smell your jealousy from here.)

You can minimize the damage they do by acting with care and ensuring that nothing too valuable is at risk. (Doesn’t THAT sound exciting?)

There is a great satisfaction to be had in fulfilling mundane responsibilities with enthusiasm. (No.  No, there isn’t.  Trust Us.)

So the next time you’re facing an array of boring errands or tedious commitments, (When are We NOT facing such a thing?)

take a deep breath (Fuck that noise…take a pill.)

— and turn your annoyance into determination. (In other news, the dishwasher is now empty.  Much like Our life.)

Even if you’re just going to pick up your dry cleaning, for instance, (Oh, the places We’ll go!)

use correct change and give the person behind the counter your warmest smile. (This is ten of the most boring horoscopes ever.)

These tasks can be enjoyable if you let them.  (Go fuck yerself.)

You never shy away from conflict, but that doesn’t mean you should search for it. (Well, We’d better search for SOMETHING, because this sure as hell ain’t no horoscope.)

It’s best to pick your battles wisely today, especially when it comes to love. (Yeah.  Because, of all the things that are gonna happen to Us today, a “love battle” is definitely gonna be one of ‘em.)

(Except, ya know, NOT.)

Even if you’d like have the last word, (In the beginning, there was the word, and that word was “aardvark”.  We’re pretty sure the last word was “zymurgy”, or something like that.)

(What?)

sometimes it’s best to clam up.  (Actually, all the really cool kidz are learning to calamari up.)



(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:  http://agskylab.blogspot.com/.  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!)
                            
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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.