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Wednesday, December 12, 2012

And Jesus Christ is it fun!

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for  WinesDay, December 12, 2012.  Happy Hump Day, everyone.  Yawn.  (As occasionally happens here at Eric’s!Daily!Horoscope!, today We find Ourself completely devoid of inspiration, so We started today’s e-pissode in the middle, as it (subjunctively) were.  We have already collected Helen Keller’s tweets (that sounds vaguely risqué, no?), and discovered that it is Edvard Munch’s birthday (he painted The Scream) as well as Frank Sinatra’s. If you can find any connection between the two, you are a better man than We are, Bombay™ gin.  If the connection you find is actually humorous, you had best run and hide, or We shall have you in indentured servitude writing all the e-pissodes of Eric’s!Daily!Horoscope! for the next week.

Why They always find it necessary to point out that the servants wear dentures, We haven’t got any idea.

The jury is also still out on the new exclamation-point-enhanced version of Our title.  And, by “the jury is also still out”, We mean “all you nakedly skimming fuckers continue to nakedly skim past it”.

Also leaving Us cold is all this “12-12-12” business.  Mainly because, although We recall addressing the repetitive date issue in the past, We cannot for the life of Us find said addresses in the archival vaults.  On 11-11-11, We appear to have had the same issue We are having now.  10-10-10 seems to have fallen on a weekend, and, consequently, have not been discussed.  And prior to that, We were not in Bloggonia, and We’ll be damned if We’re going to go digging through old e-mails just to amuse YouPeople, because what the hell have you ever done for Us?

On the other hand, just you WAIT until 13-13-13!

Speaking of “what the hell have you ever done for Us”, We find Ourself asking that question more and more lately.  And, with the new year just around the corner, assuming (thereby making you think about Uma Thurman’s ass) We survive the Mayan apocalypse, if We don’t like the answer, the results of Our cosmic housecleaning may surprise you.)

Those of you who do NOT nakedly skim will be amused to see how far back you have to go to find the open paren that that close paren just closed for.  It’s the little things.

Here, in case you missed it the past however-many-damn-days, is where to get tickets to Heavy Metal Dance Fag:

Here, in case you’ve missed it every day since November 25, is the link with which to share Our Sagittarius video with your friends:

Meanwhile, this just in from Helen Keller on Twitter (Why, yes, We DO follow Helen Keller on Twitter; thanks for asking.): 

Gonna go get my driver's license. #YOLO

Wanna hear a funny joke? Yeah, me too...

#ImThePersonWho Never looks both ways before crossing the street. I don't see the point.

Here’s the HorrorScope:

Spread your wings and try something new!  (What are We, a fucking bird?  Clearly, what Kelli MEANS is, “Spread your LEGS and try something new”.)

It’s a really good time for you to show the world what you are capable of,  (See, here is a prime example of why Engrish as a Second Ranguage is compricated.  If We were (subjunctively) a Chinaman (and you were (subjunctively) a lady, would you marry Us anyway, would you have Our baby?  (Sorry.)), based on the rules of Engrish word formation, We would deduce that “capable” meant “able to wear a cap” (or, if We heard it spoken, “able to wear a cape”), and We would have no idea what you were talking about.)

(Of course, if We were (subjunctively) a Chinaman, We’d be speaking Chinamanese, so We’d have no idea what WE were talking about.)

(It further strikes Us that “able to wear a cap” and “able to wear a cape” are two vastly different things.  For instance, not everyone is able to wear a cap, but everyone who IS able to wear a cap can pretty much carry it off, because being capable of wearing it is pretty much all One needs.  On the other hand, she wore a glove, and everyone can pretty much WEAR a cape, but the wearing of it is no guarantee that they’ll be able to pull it off, as cape-wearing involves a whole ‘nother level of panache that cap-wearing does not.  Picture, say, Batman versus Underdog.)

(Are you actually sitting there picturing Batman versus Underdog?  Do you do EVERYTHING We tell you to do?  Have Johnny Depp stripped, washed, and brought to Our tent.)

and your terrific energy helps inspire others to do the same.  (Are We still in the middle of this very same sentence?  Sorry…We lost the thread.)

Grab a hold of your pioneering spirit today, (Or grab a hold of a pioneer.  Davy, Davy Crockett, King of the Wild Frontier.  (How did anyone take that man seriously?  He walked around with a fucking beaver on his head.))

(We just mistyped “fucking” as “fcuking”.  Micro$oft Weird™ flagged it as misspelled, but offered Us no correct spelling suggestions.  However, when We edited it to “fucking”, Micro$oft Weird™ knew that it was correct.  Fuck you, Micro$oft Weird™.)

because you will be asked to do a little exploring today. (Can it be spelunking?  Not that We’ve any desire to spelunk, but We’ve always wanted to say We were spelunking. (Nine hundred million Chinamen’s heads just exploded.  Everyone was hungry again half an hour later.))

You will have the opportunity to try something no one has ever done before, which should go a long way toward spicing up your life and making things interesting once again!  (Well, We are having dinner with Justin Bieber this evening…)

Let other people travel the well-worn highways of life, never doing anything that scares them.  (Boo!)

For you, today, it’s all about making your own way and facing unfamiliar challenges. (We’re having dinner.  There’s no “challenge”.)

Your tireless (Not having tires.)

aspiration (Consumption of asps.)

in finding the perfect date (Middle Eastern fruit.)

is commendable, (Able to be mended by more than one person at once.)

(Them Chinamen don’t stand a chance.)

so don’t give up trying to find a worthy companion. (Is it just Us, or does “worthy companion” sound completely sexless?)

But don’t let this quest take over your life. (Wait…when did We get a life?)

(You’re 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.