Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s! Daily! Horoscope! for CowPieRootiePatootieFreshAndFruityToozDay, January 8rd, 2013. Happy Birthday to Vince, who turns twenty-four today, and who actually knows what Our nickname in high school was. Fortunately, he’s not telling. Also, Happy Birthday to Harmony, who also turns twenty-four today, somewhere on The Left Coast.
So We have just been informed that 2013? Is The Year Of Quinoa. So how exciting izzat? We haven’t had an entire year dedicated to a grain product since The Unfortunate Alfalfa Incident Of 1994.
Speaking of Things About Which We Know Nothing, it has also come to Our attention that there was some sort of football contest of some importance, at least to footballians, last night. Football, OurCousinKelly (not to be confused with Ass(tromalogical) Ho(roscopulist) Kelli-With-An-I-No-Doubt-Dotted-With-A-Star-And-Written-In-Purple-Ink-From-A-Pen-That-Has-Glitter-On-It, whose prognostications We shall be mocking later in the proceedings) informs Us, is the one with the oddly-shaped ball. Which reminds Us of one of Our exes, although to say any more would be impolite. And We are never impolite. Although We did laugh and laugh one time when he caught himself in his zipper. Because, with balls like that, when he got caught in his zipper, he got CAUGHT in his ZIPPER.
At any rate, to make a long story short (too late), here, courtesy of Blair Whose Half-Naked Self Formerly Decorated These Environs, is A Football Joke. We don’t understand it, of course, but We would never let that fact keep Us from entertaining Our Gentle Readers:
What do marijuana and Notre Dame have in common?
They both get smoked in bowls.
Did We mention that it’s The Year Of Quinoa?
In other news, you are all no doubt familiar with that WorldWideInterWebNetzian meme which attempts to portray the inner workings of the minds of cats and dogs. The cat is all diabolical mastermind, fiendishly plotting the demise of all the other pets in the house, as well as the overthrow of its human overlords, while the dog is all, “Kibble! That’s my favorite thing ever! Out for a walk! That’s my favorite thing ever! Taking a nap! That’s my favorite thing ever! “ Thereby demonstrating why, if We were (subjunctively) ever to own a pet, it would be a dog and not a cat. (In addition to the fact, of course, that cats are nothing more than overgrown rats, and that We are deathly allergic to them.) Because what would One want from a pet if not spirit-lifting exuberance and blind devotion?
However, when it comes to human companions, We are deeply suspect of such dog-like behavior. (Don’t worry…cat continues to be unacceptable as well.) If everything that happens to you is “the best thing ever”, and nothing ever falls short of “awesome!”, not only will We begin to imagine that you are mentally deficient, We will become convinced that you are incapable of the discrimination required to actually like Us, since you are having the exact same reaction to Us, and the guy next door, and The Hunchback of Notre Dame, and quinoa.
Also, see how We tied that all together with those callbacks from previous parts? But do not attempt this at home…We are, after all, A Highly-Trained Professional.
In random other news, in a fit of something-or-another, We have taken up one of those New Year Pay-It-Forward challenges, for which We still require two more participants; please see Our SitOnOurFaceBook page status, and read the actual instructions. It seems mostly harmless, and yet YouPeople continue resoundingly ignoring it.
Speaking of autistic…er, artistic endeavors, here is how you would share Starzina’s Time of the Month Horoscopes:Capricorn video with a friend. If you are not going to share it, however, please at least refrain from attempting to thwart Our efforts to do so. KThxBye.:
And here are the HorrorScopes:
It is, you will no doubt have already heard, David Bowie’s birthday today. Which means, We would imagine, a national holiday, at least in the UK. It is also Elvis Presley’s birthday, which We are certain means a national holiday on THIS side of the pond. And, it is Shirley Bassey’s birthday, which doesn’t really mean anything, except that We shall use “Goldfinger” as Our subject line today.
You are at the forefront of something new, bold and exciting (We don’t know about you, but We’re pretty sure that sentence would be much more “bold” and “exciting” if they took out “forefront” and put in “foreskin”. We’re just sayin’.)
(You put your foreskin in, you put your foreskin out
You put your foreskin in, and you shake it all about…)
(That just came (heh) to Us. Sign Us up for THAT game of Hokey-Pokey!)
— so talk it up! (Also, use random exclamation points!)
You need fellow pioneers (Oh, please.)
to help you explore every inch (Say WUT?)
of this new territory, (This metaphor is now officially so mixed, it’s like those frozen mixed vegetables you ate as a kid. You know, corn, peas, carrots, green beans, and Satan’s lima beans, except they all tasted exactly like the box they came in.)
and there are plenty who are willing to help. (Mmm-hmm. There’s never any shortage of helpers.)
The best way to challenge yourself is by exploring something new. (Or nude. Nude works too.)
unknown territory (Like Uranus?)
and not only will you really stimulate your brain in a whole new way, (Honey, if you’re using an anal probe, and it stimulates your brain, you have serious size queen issues.)
you will create a situation where you can really be proud of yourself. (While it is indeed impressive to be able to fit an entire football team up your tuchis, We’re not exactly sure “proud” is what you will be feeling when you do.)
You could try something that everyone is intimidated by, like skydiving or bungee jumping. (Wait, wait, wait…there’s already an entire football team up Our tuchis, now you want We should skydive and bungee jump?)
Or you could tackle (Heh. Isn’t that cute? Kelli’s trying to go along with Our football callback. Shut. Up. Kelli.)
a particular activity or thing that has always been something scary just to you. (Like that Snuggle™ bear on those fabric softener commercials?)
(What? Like that bear’s NOT possessed by the devil?)
Have a particular phobia? (Who the hell is afraid of particulars?)
This is the day to try to conquer it. (Will We be a conquistador then? Inquistadoring Minds want to know.)
Manners count. (Well, naturally. When One is putting an entire football team up One’s tuchis, the quarterback goes first. Then the halfbacks, then the fullbacks. The center goes last. Twenty-three skidoo!)
(You’re picturing this now, aren’t you? Perverts.)
Nonverbal nuances (Way to coin a phrase. AssHat.)
may be more telling than what comes out of their mouth. (How many people are in a football ensemble, anyway?)
Sit back and observe — you’ll learn a lot about this person and how they feel about you. (Awesome! That’s Our favorite advice ever!)
(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!)
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.