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Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Goosestep’s the new step

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Tootz-Tootz-TootzDee Good Pie Rupee TootzDee, July 31, 2012.Our goodness!  March has time to come in like a linebacker and go out like a lambada instructor, but July just zips on out like shit through a goose.

(Parenthetically, (hence the parentheses) One has never really understood that analogy.  We are not particularly well-versed in Nature, but what is it about geese that presumably makes them shit faster than other creatures?  (Also, whatever happened to the lambada?))

Being An Inquiring Mind That Wants To Know, We just went and Googled the lambada on Wikipedia.  Here is an actual paragraph that We encountered, and felt compelled to Cher:

A new interpretation of the Lambada has become popular in dance clubs in the Mexico-US border region. This new form is somewhat controversial, due to its graphic sexual nature, often resulting in partial penetration, known as docking. Many times, during a dip, the dancers will end up locked in an embrace where their genitals resemble a hot dog rubbing in a taco shell. These new techniques have been highly controversial in the conservative Catholic communities of the border region.

“A hotdog rubbing in a taco shell.”  You heard it here first, boyzzz and gurrlllzzz.  And on that note, happy birthday to Randy, who turns twenty-four today somewhere in suburbia.

This just in from the WorldWideInterWebNetz:

A hyperbole totally ripped into the bar and literally obliterated everything!‏

“A hotdog rubbing in a taco shell.”  We seriously are going to need to mental floss.  What exactly are these dancers wearing…or NOT wearing? (We were about to start working up to a “relish” joke, but We decided it wasn’t worth the effort.  You’re welcome.)

Yo quiero Taco Bell™!!!


Here’s the HorrorScope:

So it’s Dean Cain’s birthday today.  Speaking of people who are cordially invited to come over and rub their hotdogs in Our taco shell.  Dean was, of course, Superman on the old Lois and Clark series.  He is currently a  lambada instructor in Brazil.  Where the nuts come from.  In his spare time, he gives enemas to geese.

Can We tie together some subplots, or what? (WHO said, “Or what”?)

If you haven’t tried a new restaurant or been out with someone new in a while, you are no doubt craving novelty by now. (Yo quiero Taco Bell™!!!)

(Omigod, We can’t stop!  It’s like a twenty-four hour gooseshit in here!)

Explore your options (Wait…We have options?)

and then find a way to make life more vibrant!  (We shall get a vibraphone!)

(Orange you glad We didn’t say “gooseshit”?)

A lot of information needs to be communicated in a very small amount of time today, (We are typing as fast as We can.  We LIVE to enlighten you people.  Besides, once this is done, We can go play Our new vibraphone.)

so you don’t have time to beat around the bush or be vague. (Is it just Us, or is “beat around the bush” just another way of saying “rub your hotdog in Our taco shell”?)

(That wasn’t too vague for you, wuzzit?)

Your new name is Frank (N. Furter?)

(Heh.  We kill Us.)

— in that you need to be frank and open in everything you say and write today. (Yeah, okay, whatever.  It just occurred to Us that We have no idea what the hell is a vibraphone.  So We Googled up some images.  We guess We’re not exactly gonna be in the marching band.)

Vague hints dropped here and there are not going to get picked up. (They never do. Hence, Our hotdogless taco shell.)

(Micro$oft Weird™ doesn’t think “hotdogless” is a word.  Not only is it a WORD, Bitch, it’s a fucking WAY OF LIFE.)

You need to be direct, clear and even in some cases shockingly straightforward in order to move anything forward at all. (Now We are imagining “rub your hotdog in Our taco shell” as a verse of the Hokey-Pokey.   Because, really, isn’t that what it’s all about?)

Issues need clarity, so bring it.  (And once it’s broughten?  Bring it again.)

Protect yourself from all those emotional barracudas out there in dating land. (Now THERE’S a word you don’t hear much anymore.  (Whaddaya mean, “barracuda”? We were talking about “dating”.))

They’re libel to say anything to jump in the sack with you.  (Yes, folks, she actually said “libel” instead of “liable”.  And yet, We don’t have her job.  Go figger.)

You’re in control; you dictate where this thing takes you. (And We?  Are A Great Dictator.  We have a Dictaphone.  It’s next to Our vibraphone.  Tomorrow, We’re buying a Sousaphone.)

(We have no idea what We’re talking about.)

Don’t cave in.  (That’s the way the taco shell crumbles.)

(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.