Google+ Followers

Thursday, October 11, 2012

I’m coming out…I want the world to know (We’re pretty sure they knew already)

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Thursday, October 11, 2012.  We continue to wait, not unlike Miss Havisham, for the handyman, but the handyman, much like Godot, but unlike the iceman, cometh not, the handyman can because he mixes it with love and makes the world taste good.

Goddammit, We can put Charles Dickens, Samuel Beckett, Eugene O’Neill, and Sammy Davis Jr. all in the same quasi-logical sentence, and STILL We are single?  Oh, the humanity!

In other news (of which We have precious little, except that Our wedding dress is growing moldy, and there’s a cobweb in Our armpit (that right there was the Cliff Notes for the first seventeen chapters of Great Expectations. Fucking paid-by-the-word hack)), We have an aunt who is in her eighties, who enjoys forwarding the occasional email on a variety of topics, from the political to the look-at-this-cute-puppy, with even the stray ribald joke thrown in from time to time.  Yesterday, she sent one whose subject line was You have never seen a water sport like this before!!”

We are still afraid to open it.

In still other news, Happy National Coming Out Day to Tom Cruise, John Travolta, and that one guy in Twilight.

Meanwhile, the following is just 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.

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:

As We are nowhere near Our smut quota for the day, We should like to point out that apparently, Matt Bomer and Luke Perry share a birthday today.  We shall pause here, while We all imagine them sharing other things as well.

(Reading Dickens aloud to each other…what did you THINK We meant?)

(Your inner twelve-year-old will be as delighted as Ours to know that Micro$oft Weird™ autocorrected “Bomer” to “Boner”.)

Also, it is Henry John Heinz’s birthday.  He invented Heinz ketchup.  Do you want fries with that?

You’ve got creative energy to spare right now  (To say nothing of farts.)

(Seriously…how long has it been since We’ve had a fart joke in here?)

— so toss off a few of your hot ideas (Heh.)

to those in need.  (The joke We would like to put here is being thwarted by Our inability to spell a fart noise.  #FunnyPeopleProblems)

You may find that you rise in their esteem;  (Or something steamy, anyway.)

generosity is sure to be rewarded today.  (Generously?)

Your resources are feeling a bit pinched lately — either you don’t have enough money, (Sing it, Sistah!)

or you don’t have enough time to get your latest goal accomplished. (Yeah.  We keep writing horoscopes that no one reads, instead of the scripts We’re supposed to be writing.  We should probably do something about that.)

But have no fear!  (Underwear is here!)

It’s time to bring out your secret weapon:  (Thirty fart jokes in sixty seconds?)

Your breathtaking ingenuity. (Or that.)

Apply some creativity to whatever’s got you flummoxed, (Oh, please.  We can’t even REMEMBER the last time We were flummoxed.)

and in no time at all you’ll be humming along (Shouldn’t that be “flumming along”?)

on the right track again. (If you’re on the right crack, who cares what track you’re on?)

Your quick thinking will gain you a new fan, too (Just the one?)

— and it might even ignite a few romantic sparks.  (Insert lighting-your-farts joke here.)

If you’ve been feeling a little frustrated in the realm of romance, (A little?)

energy coming from the stars right now that can change all that in a big way. (Proofread, fercrissakes!  AssHat.)

Start by listening up (Why?  Is someone talking down to Us?)

(Heh.  See what We did there?)

— to both a certain someone and to your intuition.  (And so it ends.  Not with a bang.  Because it is, after all, about Us.)

(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.