Here comes Jupiter, there goes Mars

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for JustAnotherManOfLaManchaMonday, October 15, 2012. Beware the Ides of October. (Yeah, now go back and read it in a really cheesy Dracula accent.  See? Scaaaaaarrryyy.)  Happy birthday to Cathy, who turns twenty-four today somewhere in suburbia.  Also, happy birthday to Kathy, who also turns twenty-four today, also somewhere in suburbia.  Also also too, happy belated birthday to Catherine, who also also too turned twenty-four over the weekend, albeit not in suburbia.  Unless she was visiting Cathy and Kathy.  Ya know, if you ladies would get together and sort out your spelling issues, We could save on some pixels next year here at Erix Daily Horoscope.  We’re just sayin’.

Meanwhile, on the gentlemen’s side of the aisle, happy birthday to Justin, who turns twenty-four today.  And happy birthday to Mike, who also turns twenty-four today.  (Isn’t it peculiar how many people are turning twenty-four today?  Musta been a big-ass snowstorm back in January, 1988.  Either that, or a serious Fuck-A-Thon. (A Fuck-A-Thon, for the uninitiated, is much like a telethon, except it NEVER involves Jerry Lewis.))

And it’s not over yet.  Happy belated birthday to The Steve P, who turned not-yet-twenty-four yesterday. No one knows who We’re talking about, of course, as We are the only One who calls him “The Steve P”.  Others know him by his more common nickname, Tripod, and Our failure to investigate the origin of THAT particular moniker remains a persistent source of regret.

Okay, enough of this birthday crap. Whaddaya think this is, a horoscope or something?  Here at Casa de Jimmy Craps Corn And We Don’t Care, We are very excited to have finally begun work on the dinner theater murder mystery script We’ve been droning on about for months now.  One really must just adhere to the theory that unless One is sitting down and writing something, One cannot claim to be a writer. 

(One is, of course, a wee tad distressed that the sample script We were given consists of 8000 words, while We have already written 1000 words and have only introduced three of the six characters.  Whatevs.  We hope to have a first draft by the end of the week.)

Meanwhile, the following is less than two weeks away:

The WaitStaff’s Halloween Match Game Extravaganza!

 The Real Housewives of South Philly join host Gene Rayburn and the usual assortment of ding-a-lings for a kreepy, kooky, mysterious and spooky, altogether ooky Halloween edition of The Match Game!

Friday and Saturday, October 26 & 27, and Wednesday, October 31 (that's Halloween!)  All shows are at 7:30.

Get your tickets here: http://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/284819

Speaking of complete non sequiturs (as opposed, presumably, to the incomplete kind), here is last year’s Libra video to compare with this year’s (see above):

Here’s the HorrorScope:

Speaking of the futility of all human endeavor, it is Friedrich Nietzsche’s birthday today.  Or is it?

Someone needs you to hear them out, (Oh, no, ya don’t!  Last time you told Us that, We spent three hours listening to Helen Keller reading the waffle iron to Us.)

and there’s just no way to proceed without a sit-down. (Dear Jeebus, don’t let her sit down on the waffle iron…that’s when she starts to SING.)

It may only take a few minutes — or it may be an hours-long tearfest. (Or teargasfest, which (A.) will seem even longer and (2.) isn’t at all what you’d think it would be.)

Either way, you are better off enduring it. (It’s sentences like that that make Us yearn for a way to turn “Endora” into a verb.)

(We’re gonna pause here, to give all y’all a chance to meditate on the sheer brilliance of the preceding concept.  You’re welcome.)

This is a very good time for you to start any new projects  (We done TOLE you already…We started the murder mystery.  We’re so proud of Ourself, We could just kill somebody.)

— your energy is solid,  (We were never particularly good at Physics, but We’re pretty sure that “solid energy” can’t be a good thing.)

and you can count on your brain power staying strong throughout the day.  (But can We also count on bran power to give Us a good sit-down?)

(Relax, We’re not going back to waffle iron jokes.  We’ve moved on to poop.)

There will be no drowsy afternoon vibe for you!  (Does anyone know what that even means?)

Anything involving physical movement is highly favored, (Not by Us.)

so if you’re trying out for a sports team, (BWAH-HA-HA-HA-HA-HAH!!!)

beginning a new workout, (STOP IT!!!  YOU’RE KILLING US!!!)

or starting a new yoga class, (OUR SIDES, THEY SPLIT!!!  OUR PANTS, THEY PEE!!!  OURSELF, WE POOP!!!!)

you are sure to have a very successful experience. (In an alternative universe, maybe.  Can anyone who knows Us picture Us doing any of those things?)

The only tricky part will be knowing when to stop for the day.  (Well, that, and not getting caught taking pictures in the locker room.)

If you’re feeling lonely or depressed, reaching into the annals of your romantic past won’t make it better.  (“Reaching into the annals”?  We narrowly avoided telling a long, complex Romper Room joke earlier, but now you are forcing Us---FORCING US, We say---to sing, “Bend and stretch, reach for Uranus…”)

(If you got that?  You are very, very old.)

(So how many of you were actually able to reach Uranus?)

In fact, hooking up with a toxic ex will only bring up lots of old hurt and pain. (If they’re toxic, We poisoned ‘em. If We poisoned ‘em, they’re dead.  So this “hooking up” would first require “digging up”, and that sounds way too much like work.)

(We used to be into S&M, necrophilia, and bestiality, till We realized We were just beating a dead horse.)

(Unlike you Romper Room watchers, that joke never gets old.)

(Bend and stretch, reach for Uranus…)

(Heh.  Still funny the second time.)

Let bygones be bygones right now. (Also, let cojones be cojones.)

(We are hooked on Phunny Phonics.)

Focus on the future instead. (Just to upset the naked skimmers, We’re gonna focus on the area between your cojones and Uranus instead.)

(Your Your-O-Scopes:

http://www.humorscope.com)

 

(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.