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Monday, January 14, 2013

I think you’re so mean

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s! Daily! Horoscope! for JustAnotherMatchboxTwenty, January 14, 2013 (whatever happened to MatchboxTwenty (or is it Matchbox20? (and have We really already digressed twice, before even finishing the first sentence of the e-pissode? (We just went a-Googling on Wikipedia…apparently, it was “Matchbox20”, but now it’s “Matchbox Twenty”.    The rest of the story is equally snooze-inducing.))))

We really have no time for all this parentheticality this morning, as We are up to Our turban in birthday wishes, both timely and belated.  (Why, yes, We DO put Our turban on to write these e-pisstles…this here is High Art, ladies and genitals, and High Art requires A Process.  Or at least A Highness.  (We’ll take His Highness Prince Harry for the win.))

Happy Birthday, belatedly, to Marc, who turned twenty-four yesterday. In Chicago, Illinois.  (Cue Lesley Ann Warren in Victor, Victoria singing “Chicago, Illinois” and flashing her coochie.)  His blog, which once had the incredible good taste to name Us “Groovy Reader of the Month”, can be found here:

(Micro$oft Weird™ is frowning upon Our spelling of “coochie”, but refuses to offer Us any sensible alternatives (“cookie” being not at all the same thing).)

Happy Birthday, also belatedly, to John, who also turned twenty-four yesterday.  In San Francisco.  California. For which, to the best of Our knowledge, Lesley Ann Warren has no song, but where she may, in all probability, have flashed her coochie.  (Is anyone else currently picturing Lesley Ann Warren singing, “Rice-A-Roni™…the San Francisco treat!”, then flashing her coochie?  Just Us?  Alrighty, then.)

Happy Birthday, also also belatedly, to Rich, who also also turned twenty-four yesterday right here in The City That Loves You (On Your) Back. And Happy Birthday, also also also belatedly, to Michael, who also also also turned twenty-four yesterday right here in The City That Loves You (On Your) Back.  (If it’s all the same to you, We’re gonna get off Lesley Ann Warren and give somebody else a chance.)

And that’s just the folks We missed by not e-pisstlitizing on the weekend.  Onward and upward to birthdays au courant Sterling Silliphant Joyce Bulifant Mary Quant.  Happy Birthday to Michael, not to be confused with Michael-From-The-Preceding-Paragraph, who turns twenty-four today in Delaware.  Also, Happy Birthday to Ed, who also turns twenty-four today right here in Soufffilly.  Also also, Happy Birthday to Kate, who also also turns twenty-four today, somewhere in suburbia that’s green (and, speaking of “Somewhere That’s Green”, if Lesley Ann Warren had had a few fewer birthdays, how fabulous would she have been as Audrey in Little Shop Of Horrors?)

Day-um!  We are exhausted, and that’s just the birthday wishes!  Fortunately, We shall be spared recounting Our weekend’s dreams to you, as We have been informed recently by another WorldWideInterWebNetzian forum that people don’t care to hear other people’s dreams.  One participant actually lamented that his partner shares all of his dreams, and he doesn’t know how to make it stop.  So far be it from Us to torment you, Gentle Readers, by detailing Our nocturnal acrobatics with a chocolate-covered Johnny Depp and the double-jointed unicorn.

We have some cinematic observations from Our weekend as well (and, for you ladies of the heterosexual persuasion, We had yet another not-a-date with a Gentleman Caller From The Other Team  (We won’t even tell you how old this one was (could someone please find Us some gay friends?  KThxBye.))), but we think We had best save those for the morrow, as this particular e-pissode of Eric’s!Daily!Horoscope! is already reaching epic proportions.

Please  share  Starzina’s Time of the Month Horoscopes:Capricorn  video with a friend.  (Extra credit points if it’s a gay friend.):

And here are the HorrorScopes:

OOG (“Oh Our God!”, for you InterNetzian Illiterates), in addition to all of the Gentle Readers listed above whose birthday is today, it is also Miss Faye Dunaway’s birthday!  Hollywood.  Royalty.  (Although, We are guessing, not her twenty-fourth birthday.  (Sorry, Faye.))

Your ability to lead is unquestioned, (Then why bring it up?  Bitch.)

but sometimes you forget to make your move.   (We have forgotten more things than many other people ever knew.  Also, you are a twatnozzle.)

Now is the time to remind everyone what you are capable of.  (Where’s the fun in that?  It’s much better to surprise them.)

Inspire them, cajole them, or do whatever else it takes.  (“Cajole” is a peculiar word, no?  Consider it as part of this group:  cajole, frijoles, cojones.  Discuss.)

Your resources are feeling a bit pinched lately.  (And, by “resources”, you mean what, exactly?  Because if someone were (subjunctively) to pinch Us, We would have to pinch Ourself to see if We were dreaming.  But, if We were (subjunctively) dreaming, We wouldn’t be allowed to tell you about it.  Sigh.)

But your creativity is still fully fleshed out. (Was that a fat joke?)

And powerful!  (Was that a fart joke?)

So if you’re feeling strapped for cash, simply apply your ingenuity to the situation.  (How much are you willing to give Us for Our ingenuity?)

(Actually, that is completely stupid advice, as We haven’t been an ingénue in YEARS.  (Not, of course, as many years as Miss Faye Dunaway, but still…))

(See how We tie all the threads together?  We are A Highly-Trained Professional…do not attempt this at home.))

Why not barter if you don’t have the money?  (Why not Bob Barker?)


Talk them into giving it to you for free?   (Whores sell it, sluts give it away.)

(We, apparently, are neither.)

You can think of a new way to get what you want without giving up more than you have.  (Isn’t that a Rolling Stones song?)

People are willing to work with you on this, so ask them how you can make it work.  (Work is a four-letter word.)

Take some alone time to plot the course of the next few moves you want to take in your love life. ((Move Number 1.) Get one.)

While you’re not used to taking things at such a deliberate pace, the stars recommend doing some very detailed and strategic planning.  (Well, the stars are very nice and all, but what does Uranus have to say about it?)

 (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.