Google+ Followers

Thursday, March 21, 2013

I’m bigger than Jesus now



Hello, Ducks!



Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s! Daily! Horoscope! for Thursday, March Twenty-Thursd, Twenty-Thursdteen.  We trust you have all recovered from all of yesterday’s Zonnique Pullins’s Birthday celebrations, fetes, and extravaganzas.  We know that We Our Own Self Personally are wrung out like a wash rag (also strung out like a #hashtag, but that’s neither here nor Nair™).



Meanwhile, Our Google-O-Meter™ informs Us that We currently have more Gentle Readers in Germany than We have in the Youessivay.  Mayhaps We shall have to stop referring to zem as “Gentle”.  We have no idea what ziss means, but We shall take fame any way We can get it.  (Although preferably with a side of Fortune.)



Despite the fact that it is morning, We would really appreciate it if Our computer’s speakers stopped making Rice Krispies™ noises.  KThxBye.



In other news, from The Moral Of The Story Department, back before written history began, when We had not yet turned twenty-four, and these horoscopes were but a glimmer in Uranus, We appeared in a show.  (This is not, of course, the news.  We are getting to the news.)  Last night, We met the producer of the show We are currently directing, whom We thought We knew only from the WorldWideInterWebNetz.  He informed Us that he had seen the aforementioned show back in The Dark Ages, which apparently played around Valentine’s Day, and was so moved by Our performance that he and his now-husband said “I love you” to each other for the first time afterwards.  Which just goes to show, you never know who is being affected by the crap you do in public.



And which also goes to prove The Butterfly Effect, which, for those of Our Gentle Readers who are NOT Zen Buddhists (We’re guessing, for example, a number of ze German folks), We shall now elaborate upon.  The Butterfly Effect explicitly states that, when a butterfly flaps its wings in China, it can cause Ashton Kutcher’s pants to fall off in the Youessivay.



We’re so glad We were able to clear that up for you. Also, you’re welcome.



Our speakers, meanwhile, are driving Us mad.  Doesn’t some kind, technically-abled Gentle Reader want to bring his plumber’s crack over to OurHouseWhereWeLive and tend to Our equipment?



What?



Speaking of the show We’re directing,  here is the SitOnOurFaceBook event where you can find out all about it, (it opens this very evening, by the way)   and say you’re coming:



And, because it occurs to Us that there are some non-SitOnOurFaceBook users amongst Our Gentle Readers, here is a link to the actual theatre company where the same information can be obtained:





How many of you are still stuck on “glimmer in Uranus”?



Because We Are Woman, Hear Us Roar, Our Ass Is Too Fat To Ignore, (and because We do not now, and, the way things are going, most likely will not ever, have A Man Around The House), We found the switch with which to shut off Our computer’s speakers.  This does not, of course, solve Our problem, and will certainly have a negative impact on Our enjoyment of WorldWideInterWebNetzian pornography, but it may prevent Us from losing what passes for Our mind in the next ten minutes.


 
Here, meanwhile, is the link with which you would share Our new Aryan…ooops, Aries video with your friends, enemies, frenemies, enemists, and frenulums, if you were so inclined: http://youtu.be/saxvaR85vYU



Also, for those of you who like cups of tea, and history, and someone in a tree, here is last year’s Aries video, featuring Our mother, Rosie Starfish, for comparison:




Because We copy a great deal of these e-pisstles over from one day to the next, We never know exactly how many words We create in a day.  We really need to figger that out.  Because, now that it is an asstromalogical New Year, We may need to channel said words in a new direction.





And now, in case you thought things couldn’t get worse, here is Kelli’s HorrorScope:




Oh, see, now. Yesterday, Zonnique Pullins’s birthday, and today Diggy Simmons’s?  Why, if We keep celebrating at this rate, We’ll be dead by the weekend!




Though you may not feel that you’re at your best, (You’re never fully dressed without argyle.)



(What?)



you can still get started on something that turns out to be really great for you.  (It occurs to Us that We have no date for Our opening.  Yay, Us.)



Just make sure that you don’t let yourself get boxed in!  (Boxed?  We couldn’t even cope with being wet-paper-bagged.)



A friend who has been under a lot of pressure needs some relief, and you could be the one to give it to them.  (Because We?  Are a slut like that.)



If they live far away, ask them to come visit you for a while (Oddly enough, We shall be having that very conversation later this very day.)



(We just accidentally typed “be having” as “behaving”.  And Micro$oft Weird™ let Us.  It’s anarchy, We tellz ya!)



— a change of scenery might be just the ticket to get them feeling perky again. (We would love to feel his perky, ThankYouVeryMuch.)



 If they live in your neck of the woods, then make a date with them.  (Maybe it’s just Us…okay, PROBABLY it’s just Us, but necking in the woods sounds like a pretty good date already.)



Just the two of you. (No sentence without verb.  AssHat.)



(Heh.  See what We did there?)


(So did Helen Keller.)



It’s time to reacquaint yourself with a person you’ve known for so long. (No doubt a reference to the old Billy Idol song, “Dancing With Myself”.)



You don’t know them nearly as well as you think you do.  (We don’t know much, ‘cause We don’t get out much.)



Someone close has a definite opinion about your love life, (Wait…We have a love life?!?)



but only you can determine its relevance. (Wait…We have relevance?!?)



(We. Have. Relevance.  If you ain’t. Got. Relevance.  You can never ever Jonathan Groff.)



(Fucking Tourettes.)



Rather than going ape,  (Does anyone actually say “go ape” anymore?  And, if so, who?)



thank them for their input (Do We get his “input” after We feel his perky?)



and direct them to your boundaries.(Was that a fat joke?)



(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!)

*****************************************************************************

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.