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Monday, November 5, 2012

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas.



Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for  JustAnotherMadCowMonday, November 5, 2012.  Happy Guy Fawkes Day to, presumably, all the Guys he’s Fawked. (Are We a cunning linguist, or what?  (WHO said, “Or what.”?))  Happy birthday to Kevin, who turns twenty-four today.  Also, happy birthday to Rachel, who also turns twenty-four today, albeit (“albeit”, people!  We speak in frigging TONGUES in here!) only for the second time.  But she’ll learn.

We just discovered a Magic Marker™ in Our pants pocket that We had forgotten putting there.  For just a moment, We thought We were very happy to see Us.

Two paragraphs in, and already a dick joke.  That should give you some idea of how Our morning is going.   Although clearly it’s already a much better week than last week.  Still, now that We are twenty-four Our Own Self, this changing-the-clocks business kicks Our substantial ass no matter which way We’re changing ‘em.  Sigh.

Let’s see, what else is new.  We may have mentioned that, on Friday night, We were off to see the dinner theatre murder mystery currently playing at the place that is on the verge of purchasing Our script.  We had already read the current script, but to see it brought to life…lettuce just say, there’s a bunch of actors who should be kissing Our very feet.

Over the rest of the weekend, We finished hauling all of Our crap back into Our basement following the Hurricane Sandy Duncan debacle.  (Insert “eye of the hurricane” joke here.)  Except for Our Christmas tree.  We saw no good reason to lug those three giant boxes back downstairs, only to lug them right back up three weeks later.  So We have erected (ahem) said tree, leaving it undecorated (because, while We may be crazy, We are not INSANE), and We are pretending it’s a bizarre artificial houseplant.  Sort of a phlighty philodendron, or a fucked-up ficus, if you will.  Or even if you won’t.  It’s not YOUR house…who the hell do you think you are?

The following is a Public Service Announcement for SitOnMyFaceBook users:
SitOnMyFaceBook now informs those who send SitOnMyFaceBook messages when those messages have been read, and by which of the intended recipients (if there are more than one).  So now, when We send you a SitOnMyFaceBook message, and you ignore Us, We know that you are being a douchebag.  KThxBye.

Also, dear Micro$oft Weird™:  “douchebag” is so too a word.  Spend some time on SitOnMYFaceBook and you will change your tune.

We are completely overcaffeinated.  (Also a word, Micro$oft Weird™!  We’ve had just about enough of you!)

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Here is the link with which you would share Our new Time of the Month Horoscope video with your friends, if you were (subjunctively) so inclined.  Like the plane. http://youtu.be/UiJLA4MRNNg .  Enjoy!

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



Here’s the HorrorScope:

Today?  Is Vivien Leigh’s birthday.  Were she (subjunctively) still amongst the living, she would be ninety-nine years old.  Fiddle-dee-dee, indeed-y.

Kelli, meanwhile, in a fit of Ass(tromalogical) Ho(roscopulistic) brilliance, would like Us to know that it is Kevin Jonas’s birthday today.  Kevin Jonas, for the edification of Our Gentle Readers who may have better things to do than keeping their Jonas Brothers straight (as it (subjunctively) were), would be the ugliest Jonas Brother.  You’re welcome.

Now is a great time for catharsis  (Just don’t get it mixed up with catheters or cataracts or catarrh.)

— and it’s better for you to get started yourself than to have it thrust upon you! (Are We still talking about the same thing?)

 Things may look a lot more interesting once you’ve settled some old scores.  (Or watched an old Scorsese film.)

(No, We have no idea what We’re talking about.  Why do you ask?)


If you have an urge to tell a particularity rude person what you think of them, don’t suppress it — vent it!  (Oh, We are very on the verge of some venting, lettuce tell you.)

Someone in your life who rarely if ever considers other people’s feelings is in desperate need of a wakeup call today — and you are the perfect person to dial their number.  (Unfortunately, part of this person’s particular rudeness is ignoring telephonic communications.)

(On the other hand, We know where he lives…)

Your wit, (See, They say “keep your wits about you”.  Unfortunately, We only have the one.)

coupled with your tact (Our wuuutttt?)

and a huge dose of truth, (AKA troof.)

will combine to create an effective sally (Who da fuq is Sally?)

that puts them in their place without making you look harsh.  (Quite frankly (who da fuq is Frankly?), We’re on the verge of being so pissed off, We don’t care how harsh We look.)

 You’re feeling a little stiff these days when it comes to socializing. (No, that’s a Magic Marker™.)

(See, in comedy, We call that a “call back” to an earlier joke.  But We are a Highly Trained Professional…do not attempt this at home.)


In fact, you feel like a pale imitation of your usual self.  (Which must mean We are The Whitest Woman in the Whole Wide World.)

(In other news, We just booked a focus group.  For Wednesday.  Which is also the day of Our script reading.  When it rains, it whores.  (That’s what They say, isn’t it?  Why does anyone listen to Them?))

Stop being so hard on yourself  (We done tole you…it’s a Magic Marker™.)

(We just called back the call back.  Are We skilled or what?  (Don’t say it. (Actually, that last bit was also a call back, within Our calling out of Our call back of the other call back.  The cunning linguistics are goddamn knee deep in here. (Kiss Us quick, We’re Britney Spears, ‘cause ooops, We did it again.)))

(Apropos of nothing, it just occurred to Us that We weren’t invited to Justin Timberlake’s wedding neither.)

— you don’t have to be the life of the party every single time.  (But just once, We’d love to be the death of it.)
                           

(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.