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Saturday, July 14, 2012

Bless the beasts and the children

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Saturday, July 14, 2012.  Welcome to A Very Special Weekend E-Pissode Of Blossom…er, Erix Daily Horoscope, or, as We say here behind the scenes, “Erix Daily Horoscope Lite”.  Happy Bastille Day to all Our Frawnch readers.  Also, happy birthday to Leslie, who turns twenty-four today.  Also also, happy birthday to Michael, who does not even turn twenty-four today, and who does so either in or on his way back from someplace called O-Hai-Oh.  (O-Hai-Oh, for those Gentle Readers who, much like Us Our Own Self, are not well-versed in geography, is a small Asian fishing nation that somehow managed to be overlooked during the formation of these contiguous forty-eight United States, and now finds itself wedged between Pennsyltucky and some large square state where they grow corn.  It is most noted for maintaining neutrality during The War Of Northern Aggression and for its exports of Wonder™ bread and Wonderbras™, which, unbeknownst to most people, are both made out of the same substance, mined from O-Hai-Oh’s verdant hills.)

Having taught you all that (and, We might add, having used the word “verdant” (you’re welcome)), We proceed apace and forthwith to the jokes.  But first, We would like to thank everyone who came out last night to watch Us play The Match Game, thereby making it Our most successful Match Game to date.  We are playing again tonight, fittingly enough at L’Etage, so if you would like to spend some time on Bastille Day listening to Charles Nelson Reilly speak Frawnch to Brett Somers, Dew Drop Inn.  The doors open at 7, the show is at 7:30:

We were just about to start being funny when We got sidetracked by Our Google-O-Meter™.  As you might guess, Our most recent hot topic is whatever day we used the pixture of Prince William in his Speedo™, which people are flocking to by searching “Prince William naked”.  Presumably, We could make a small fortune by teaching classes in how to ACTUALLY use the WorldWideInterWebNetz, because trust Us, if We wanted a pixture of Prince William naked, We could find one, and there wouldn’t be any Speedo™ involved.  But this sort of behavior on the part of You Perverts is not in the least surprising to Us.  More noteworthy are the people who arrive on these hallowed pages by searching “clackle sauce” (of which We have never heard, for which We are an occurrence because of an unfortunate lapse in which We had someone of the Asian persuasion talking about “Lice Klispies™…Snap! Clackle! Pop!” in the same e-pissode with some mention of “sauce”  (Google-hint:  if you want to find an actual phrase (e.g. “clackle sauce”) put it in quotes)).  And then there are the people who get here by searching “horoscopes for the hopeless”.

We may just have to go right back to bed.

But wait…We promised you jokes.  Or maybe Ginsu steak knives.  We get those two confused.  But here are some jokes, because We don’t have any Ginsu steak knives:

The Week’s Top Tweets From Twitter:

"No, no, no.  Not YOUR Mom."--Oedipus's buddy, explaining what a MILF is.

My favorite part of any Enrique Iglesias song is during the bridge when he chants rejected Dorito flavors.

Finding out Santa Claus wasn't real would have been far less traumatic if he hadn't told me while he was inside me.

Girls who say "I hate drama" can usually be found drunk and crying on a public toilet.

I know domestic violence like my wife knows the back of my hand.

I love in Pretty Woman when she shows that mean saleslady she's not a whore by getting the rich guy she's blowing to buy clothes for her.

Sucks when a co-worker ask you how your weekend was and you mean to say "good" but it comes out as "Fuck you, Natalie"

If your lawyer has a ponytail or a cowboy hat, you're going to jail.

No one has it as bad as a fat chick with tiny boobs.

Sad to learn that the confetti dropped on Times Square on New Year’s Eve was made by shredding orphans' letters to Santa.

I'm getting concerned that Beyoncé never told those single ladies to put their hands down, and now there's a bunch of unfed cats out there.

Here’s the HorrorScope:

But first, happy Bastille Day birthday to America’s second-favorite lesbian, Jane Lynch (Ellen DeGeneres being, of course, Americas favorite lesbian (and no, nobody actually likes Rosie O’Donnell)).

You can charm the birds from the trees on a day like today, (We can also turn the world on with Our smile.  Also, We can take a nothing day, and suddenly make it all seem worthwhile.)

and you may find that you are in a much better position vis-a-vis an old rival.  (Especially, We assume, if they are up a tree.)

In fact, a long standing power struggle may come to an end.  (Will power tools be involved?  (We did just name three lesbians…We are thinking a belt sander might appear at any moment.))

(You realize, of course, that We haven’t the slightest clue what the hell a belt sander is, and an entire bevy of them could appear and go completely undetected by Us.)

You are likely to hit at least one obstacle today (With what?  A belt sander?  We’ve got a bevy of ‘em.)

— but sometimes roadblocks are there to keep you from getting into dangerous situations, so take a deep breath when you encounter one. (Yeah, whatever.  We just got distracted by Urban Dictionary.  Here’s a little Bastille Day joke, courtesy of same:

Bone ami (n.): a French fuckbuddy.

Try not to look at it as a bad thing. (How could a fuckbuddy be a bad thing?)

The limitation you encounter — whether it’s a strict parent, a militant boss or just a rule that you must obey — is there for a reason.  (Rules, much like hymens, are made to be broken.)

(Did We actually just say that?)

You may have to struggle more than usual to get somewhere today, but in that struggle you will appreciate your journey all the more.  (Didja notice it’s raining?   (Or, as the Frawnch would say, “Merde, il pleut”.))

 It’s time for love to manifest itself in your life, (Yeah, We’re just gonna sit around here and viZZZualize that.)

but remember, you can’t force something to happen if it’s not ready. (See, if We were (subjunctively) really trendy and topical and hip-hop-happenin’, this would be where We’d tell a rape joke.)

(Speaking of unfortunate turns of phrase, one of Our more earnest fellow bloggers who shall remain nameless was commenting on the latest atrocious news out of Penn State and had the misfortune to entitle her e-pisstle (We shit you not) “The Children Should Always Come First”.)

(Wait for it…THERE ya go.)

It’s time to be innovative. (Thank CHRIST!  Because being exnovative just wasn’t working out for Us.)

Try getting rid of some old habits and see if that helps start the process. (We bet it will, as long as whatever “process” you’re trying to start begins with naked nuns…)

(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.