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Monday, June 25, 2012

Hey, I just met you, and this is crazy

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for JustAnotherManScapedMonday, June 25, 2012.

Having refrained from e-pisstling all weekend long, (A.) We have SOOOO much to Cher with you and (2.) We are about to burst.  But first, this Public Service Announcement:

This past Saturday, We betook Ourselves on a little shopping excursion.  Many of Our summer frocks seem to have simultaneously fallen into rack and ruin and gone hopelessly out of style, dating, as they do, from 1987.  (We’re pretty sure at least one of the frocks had shoulder pads.)  So, as We haven’t two nickels to rub together (and as what sort of amusement rubbing two nickels together would create escapes Us anyway), We decide to waddle Our double-wide hindparts on down to the Souf Philly Forman Mills (all together now:  FOR!!! MAN!!! MILLS!!! ), where We could be assured of obtaining three frocks for a dollar.  (Because We HAVE a dollar, just not two nickels.)

(We just paused for a mo-mo in mid-public-service to perform a SECOND public service (because We give, and GIVE, and GIVE) by Googling “Forman Mills” (FOR!!! MAN!!! MILLS!!! ) on Wikipedia to ascertain whether it was just a local business that no one outside Our area would have heard of.  Turns out that, while not nationwide, it has enough locations spread across the northeastern US that more of you will likely have heard of it than not.  The rest of you can just pixture the Salvation Army with new stuff instead of used.)

So, geographically speaking, We are talking about waddling all the way down under I-95, near the Souf Philly Ikea and Chuck E. Cheese, 15 or 20 blocks from OurHouseWhereWeLive, only to discover the Forman Mills (FOR!!! MAN!!! MILLS!!! (okay, that was really only funny the first time.  If then.))  with its doors padlocked and signs saying “lost our lease”.

Why did none of YouPeople tell Us this?

But We’re not going to dwell.  Obviously, it is every Ass(tromalogical) Ho(roscopulist) for HerSelf these days, and who are We to argue?  So Our phone doesn’t ring…so what?  We are IN LOVE.  And this is not a false alarm, like Allison from the other week (you do recall Allison, with her “first size of boobs”?  Not that We ever heard from her again…).  No, this week’s missive comes from Vanessa:

Subject: I think I am in the same town‏


Remember me?

Well hopefully my profile will jog your memory. Come hit me up at:

Want to get out this weekend? Maybe get a drink.. maybe more?

Let me know.


How can One not love a woman who doesn’t even know what town she’s in?  We love you, too, Vanessa!

Apropos of nothing, str8 bois in Capri pants?  What’s up with that?

We have a movie review, but that’s going to have to wait until tomorrow, as time keeps on slippin’, slippin’, slippin’ into the future.  (What the hell just happened?)  Here are a few random bits of wisdom from the WorldWideInterWebNetz that We encountered this weekend and saved up to Cher with you:

Liketurbate (v.): to like one’s own status on SitOnMyFaceBook

I’m not badass enough to join Dykes on Bikes so I’m going to join Cooters on Scooters‏.

People who use the word "cyberspace" are literally always pedophiles.‏

If “women aren’t funny,” then why do the words “daughter” & “laughter” rhyme?‏

A synonym ambles into a pub...

The other night on Letterman, Justin Bieber called it the "Sixteenth Chapel." He also thinks "The Last Supper" was painted by Leonardo DiCaprio.‏

Is it considered drinking alone if you’re on Facebook?‏

In still other news, The Match Game : playing it We shall be on Friday, July 13 and Saturday, July 14, at 7:30, at L’Etage.  The SitOnMyFaceBook event is here: and tickets can be gotten here: .  Be there, or be BLANK.)

Here’s the HorrorScope:

 You’ve got to take your time today (We have never understood that saying…who else’s would We take?)

— there’s no point in rushing!  (Indeed.  The only fraternity We want to join is the one in that porno movie.)

Your energy is just right for taking on small, low-key projects and making slow progress on them, (Are you mocking Us?)

not for rushing to a thrilling climax!  (At this point, if We had a “thrilling climax”, We would probably need medical attention.)

You might feel a bit under siege today (Trolls live under bridges…what lives under siege?)

— many people may be demanding your time and energy, (So wait…other people can take OUR time, but We can’t take theirs?  The hell?)

when you want to focus on your home and your family.  (Yeah, okay, whatevs.)

Trying to negotiate with these people will likely be disappointing; they are so focused on themselves today that they will have a hard time taking your personal needs seriously.  (And you imagine that this will in some way come as a surprise to Us?  Walk a mile in OUR Jimmy Choos, bee-yotch.  (Just don’t walk to Forman Mills (FOR!!! MAN!!! MILLS!!! (SHADDUP!)), because it’s closed.))

Feel free to disengage and do what you need and want to do. (We’d LIKE to make a plan re: Our upcoming good-news-for-a-change. )

Don’t burn any bridges (Especially if there are trolls under them.  ‘Cause burning trolls?  STIIIIIINNNKKKKK!!!!!)

— but do take note of the people who react especially poorly.  (We are making a list.  It is unclear to Us why the list is so long, but what can ya do?)

What’s up with you? (We’d tell you, but then We’d have to kill you.  And We really can’t spare anybody who actually still asks what’s up with Us.)

 Your personal life (Jigga WUT?)

is definitely cutting into work, (We can only say “jigga WUT” so many times before We become ridiculous.)

and that’s not a good thing. (Jigga WUT, chicken butt.)

(There.  Not ridiculous AT ALL.)

The economy’s anything but great right now, (See also: nickels, two, rubbing together.)

so make sure you’re doing all you can to shine at the office. (Now We have to SHINE the fucking nickels?  Why’n’tcha stick a broom up Our ass so We can sweep the floor while We’re at it?)

When the chopping block comes out, you don’t want your head to roll. (On the other hand, since it already shakes and rattles…)

(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.