Hello, Ducks!
Starzina
Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Montag, June 18, 2012. “Montag” is, of course, German for “what the
fuck happened to the weekend?” (“Maytag”
is German for “you spent it doing laundry, dummkopf”. (That last bit just sprang forth from Us,
fully formed, like Athena from Zeus’s forehead.
(Remind Us to come back later and put a foreskin joke in here.)
Sometimes ya work really hard for the funny, and sometimes it just comes to
ya.))
She
works hard for the funny, so hard for it, honey, she works hard for the funny
so ya better treat her right…
That
there was a little disco to get your Monday morning moving. Just in case your Metamucil™ hadn’t kicked in
yet.
So
was anyone else not told that the WorldWideInterWebNetz were closing down for
the weekend? Saturday wasn’t so bad, but
Sunday…Jeebus! The InterNetz are creepy
when you’re the only one there. There
were tumblin’ tumbleweeds, We’re tellin’ ya.
If ya played a YouTube video, it echoed.
There was only one Angry Bird.
All the porn was masturbation.
Scaaaaarrrryyyyy….
But
you’re all back now, right? (Who let all
those crickets in here?)
Meanwhile,
in Our very own City Paper (hi,
Sara!), We saw an ad for “Semen Donors”.
Who knew you could place an ad for that? It even specified that they be
between 18 and 35. It didn’t say what they
had to look like, but presumably that would get sorted out on the
interview. We shall be placing Our very
Own ad immediately…finally, Our social life will be looking up!
And
not a moment too soon…We never did make it on Our promised trip to Saskatoon
this weekend. (Most of you will remember
Saskatoon from the old Bob Seger toon (heh) of the same name: “Sas-ka-toon…that’s really, really where I’m
goin’ to…if I ever get outta here, I’m going to Saskatoon…”)
We
apologize…that whole last bit was an inside joke. Speaking of inside jokes, here’s an inside
joke punchline: “Find the keys, and We’ll
drive out”.
Heh. We kill Us.
Here
is an actual joke, in its entirety:
A guy
comes home from work to see his girlfriend crying and packing all her stuff. When he asks her what’s wrong, she sobs that
she is leaving him because she just found out that he is a pedophile. With a look of disbelief, he steps back and
says, "Whoa! That’s a big word for a twelve-year-old!"
And,
for the theatrically-minded amongst you, here’s this honest theatrical
playbill: http://www.mcsweeneys.net/articles/an-honest-theatrical-playbill
We
spent much of the weekend thinking of things, and saying, “We must put that in
the horoscope.” Can We think of any of
those things now? No, We cannot.
We used to be into
S&M, necrophilia, and bestiality, but then We realized we were just beating
a dead horse.
Here’s
the HorrorScope:
(According
to Kelli, it is someone called Blake Shelton’s birthday today. It is unclear to Us who that is, but he is
unattractive and needs a shave. (We have
just Googled Mister Shelton on Wikipedia, and discovered that he is a country
singer. Which led us to wonder (as
things do) whether other countries have country music. And what other countries’ country music might
sound like…say, for example, in Belize.
What does country music sound like in Belize? Or in Chad? (It now occurs to Us,
parenthetically, that those are Two Very Gay Countries. Belize sounds like a drag queen, and Chad is
a gay porn star.) Let’s try this again…what
does country music sound like in Bangladesh…now that’s making Us think of that
old movie, inexplicably about baseball, called Bangladesh Slowly…))
(Let’s
just abandon all that, shall We? It was
all much too much like work, anyway. We
were initially going to ask what country music was like in Kuala Lumpur, but
then the InterNetz informed Us that Kuala Lumpur is a city, not a country. Who knew?
The InterNetz also disabused Us of the notion that Bangladesh Slowly was a made-for-TV movie. Apparently, it had Robert De Niro in it. Now THAT was a makeup job.)
(If
We were (subjunctively) a country
singer, they would, of course, say of Us, “she puts the ‘cunt’ in ‘country’”. Which
is why We have refrained from that particular pursuit. Well, that and Our gingham allergy. (Doesn’t “Gingham
Allergy” sound like a character name from something? The mink-clad wife of the chairman of the
board in some 50s movie?))
(Our
mind is a terrible thing to waste. (Meanwhile,
We are NEVER wasted when We write these e-pisstles. This is Us (well, We) stone-cold sober. Party with THAT thought.))
Clarity
is absolutely everything today (Well, except for the little part that is Lady
Clairol™.)
—
communication depends on it, (That’s not the only thing with Depends™ on it.)
(If
you pissed it then you shoulda put Depends™ on it…(Kiss Us quick, We’re
geriatric Beyoncé.))
and
so do your plans! (And your pants! (We’re pretty sure we’ve lost the thread.))
Make
sure that you know what you want to say before you say it, (You think We PLAN
what We’re gonna say in here?
BWAH-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HAH!!!!)
as
you only get one chance. (And We
consistently blow it. (Where’s them semen
donors?))
All
eyes will be on you today, but don’t succumb to stage fright (Have you met Us? We do not “succumb”.)
—
these eyes belong to very friendly, supportive people. (Well, We still
ain’t givin’ ‘em back.)
It
looks as though this is one of those critical points you’ve been waiting for although
you might not even have realized it. (Oh, please. Let’s not start listing all the things We
haven’t realized, or We’ll be here all week.)
You
may be called to the stage to make an acceptance speech; be sure to have something
genuine prepared. (Does a tasteful cocktail count?)
Use
your time in the limelight to make big things start happening. (PUBLIC semen donation? Don’t mind if We do.)
You
might want to head to a tearjerker matinee (Heh…Kelli said “jerker”.)
or
have a session with the punching bag — you’ve got some internal goings-on that
are going to come out one way or another. (That was a whole lotta euphemism packed into one
little sentence, young lady.)
Why
not enjoy it? (That’s why We placed the
ad in the first place. Semen donors…they’re
not just for breakfast any more.)
(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!)
*****************************************************************************
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.
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