Wednesday, July 25, 2012

Will I be pretty? Will I be rich?



Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Wednesday, July 25, 2012.  Happy Hump Day to those of you who have regularly-scheduled humps. Also, Happy Christmas In July to those of you who celebrate Christmas In July.  Buy a fucking calendar.  Freaks.

We Our Own Self Personally are still readjusting to everyday life after Our past week of visitations, pilgrimages, and shenanigantics, so if you have been waiting to hear from Us, it will no doubt be soon.  Despite The Sainted Mother having departed, We last night had a dream in which We had a long conversation with her, wherein she was attempting to convince Us that We should call people up on the telephone and read the bible to them.  Our assertion that said people thus called would simply hang up on Us did not seem to deter her.  The fact that such a conversation would never even begin to occur in real life did not stop this dream from going on at length.

In waking life, We find Ourself having random thoughts such as, “What does Prince William DO all day?” and “Is Doris Day still alive?”

A random quote from the WorldWideInterWebNetz: "Can you turn the water into WHITE wine? We’re having Chilean sea bass." -- Jesus' gay friend

And here is this, featuring The Lovely And Talented Willam Belli:


Here’s the HorrorScope:

Oh, see now.  Obviously, nobody is reading this, as you are all too busy preparing for your Estelle Getty’s Birthday celebrations.

You have to put others first today — there’s just no other way for things to work out!  (We are happy to put other people in front of Us.  Especially when someone opens fire on Our movie theater.  (What?  Too soon?))

Make sure that you’re really listening (Sorry…did you say something?)

and that you’ve got what it takes to pitch in when things get weird.  (Do WE have what it takes to pitch in when things get weird?  Does the Pope fuck altar boys in the woods?)

Your ability to see things from another person’s perspective (Didn’t We just have MC Escher in here the other day?)

is going to come in very handy today when it’s your turn to make a tough decision. (Paper or plastic?)

Think hard about what the impact on other people will be if you go with your first choice — it may be a lot more disruptive to their lives than you initially believe. (And that I of any importance to Us because…?)

If you feel as though you’re being inconsiderate, (We shall focus on Ourself until the feeling passes.)

be prepared to compromise. (We are happy to compromise, as long as We get everything Our Own way.)

This will not only make others happier (Who cares?)

but also, in the long run, make you more content, too.  (We are already about as much anti-tent as One can get.)

 Instigate something unexpected and fabulous — procrastinate.  (Maybe later.)

(Heh.  See what We did there?)

Well, not exactly. (Oh, please. Helen Keller saw what We did there, and texted Ray Charles about it on the waffle iron.)

It’s more about a well-timed response. (Oh, great.  Now We have to buy a detonator.)

When that email or call comes in, (Which it never does.)

don’t answer it right away. (Yeah.  That’ll work.)

Create a little tension, mystery and intrigue. (Why?  Things aren’t bad enough as they are?)

Let expectations stew a bit.  (Oh, yay.  Expectation stew…it’s what’s for dinner.  No doubt with an ennui salad, and disappointment for dessert.)




(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.
                                                                                                                                    



3 comments:

  1. I had a dream last night that I was at a hospital and had cut my hand very badly. So the nurse decided to give me a shot of morphine for the pain while she sewed it up, except I was terribly allergic to it, collapsed on the floor and the other nurse was like, "oh don't worry, you'll just sleep for a few days" and the other nurse was like, "um I think her heart is stopping.." Then I woke up to my alarm and was bummed cause I was kind of looking forward to sleeping for a few days. Thought you'd like that dream story. Hugs!

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  2. If I could plug a TV into my head, my dreams could supply their own cable network.

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  3. I'm pretty sure the pope fucks boys wherever he damn well pleases. Just sayin'.

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