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Thursday, January 24, 2013

I saw a werewolf drinking a pina colada at Trader Vic's. His hair was perfect.


 Hello, Ducks!



Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s! Daily! Horoscope! for Thursday, January 24, 2013.  Happy Birthday to Alex, who turns twenty-four today right here in The City That Loves You (On Your) Back.  But only for the third or fourth time.  Amateur.   Also, Happy Birthday to Rob, who also turns twenty-four today.  In Colorado.  Which, as far as We are able to ascertain, is one of those large square states that make it so difficult to get to The Left Coast.  He has had more practice at it.


In other news, apparently it continues to be cold outside, facilitating the annual Chicken Versus Egg discussion as to which is colder, a witch’s tit or a preacher’s prick.  All things considered, We’re going to have to go with the witch’s tit, which is frequently referred to as being encased in a brass brassiere, as opposed to the preacher’s prick, which, depending upon the denomination of said preacher, is frequently encased in altar boy.


One has, perforce, to wonder who exactly would wear a brass brassiere, no matter what the weather is like.


Hey, EVERY day can’t be National Pie Day.  Give Us a break.


We Our Own Self Personally shall be in the studio a little later, banging out (heh) the next e-pissode of Starzina’s Time of the Month Horoscopes. Our hard-core fans (not that We’ve met any, but We hear they are both very nice) will have noticed A Missing E-Pissode…be assured that you will hear more on (heh…We said “moron”) this story as it develops.  (Hey, One can’t develop a cult following without A Missing E-Pissode.  (One also can’t develop a cult following if no one is paying attention, but that’s neither here nor Cher.)


Here is a little Aquarius fillum, for Our birthday Aquarians:





And here are the HorrorScopes:


Every day, We go to a website listing the famous birthdays du jour, where they list the top fifty celebrities having a birthday that day.  We swear to you, today We recognize fewer names on that list of fifty than on any day in recent memory.  That said, Happy Birthday to Ernest Borgnine, and to Warren Zevon.  (Do you still have birthdays when you’re dead?)  Also, Happy Birthday to Oral Roberts.  Who the hell names their baby “Oral”?  What the hell was the matter with those parents?  And whatever happened to his brother, Anal?


 You are feeling greater responsibility for your actions — not that you ever really shirk!  (Pity that that “ehrmehgerd” meme has gone The Way Of The Dodo, or we might be tempted to sing…

Shirk-shirk-shirk
Shirk-shirk-shirk
Shirk yer birdie, shirk yer birdie…

(Sorry.))




You just realize how great the consequences can be, so you are more likely to chill out and do what’s right.  (Dass Us.  Chillin’ like Bob Dylan, in Our brass brassiere.  Somebody throw another altar boy on the fire, wouldja?)


Any issues that pop up (POP!)


around the house today won’t be terribly dramatic, but they do require your undivided attention. (Which is good, because We’re terrible at fractions.   But at least We know what they are.  Unlike fractals, which We haven’t got any idea.)


They represent a real change you need to make in yourself.  (Well, you could change “yourself” to “yes, flour”, but that really wouldn’t make any sense.)


(What?)


If there is a conflict over cleanliness, perhaps you need to get rid of the clutter in the emotional parts of your life?  (Oh, Kelli, Kelli, Kelli, Kelli, Kelli…so many C-words, so little time.  If you can guess the C-word We’re thinking of right now, We’ll call you it when We see you next Tuesday.)


Throwing out garbage doesn’t only refer to potato peels, old newspapers, and egg shells! (Is it just Us, or is there something overwhelmingly existential and sad about the phrase “old newspapers”? Just Us?  Alrighty, then.)


 Your negative feelings and self-doubt may need to get tossed to the curb, too!  (What, no recycling?)


Mothering becomes an issue. (Fine.  Here is a video in which Our mother appears.  And you wonder why We have issues:




It’s time to learn how to honor that mother energy and learn to nurture yourself. (Our titz are in a brass brassiere…how much self-nurturing can We do?)


 (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:  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.