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Wednesday, May 15, 2013

Hey! It’s me! I rode the short bus!




Hello, Ducks!



Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s! Daily! Horoscope! for  WinesDay, May 15, 2013.   Happy Birthday to SweetBreadStudios, which (who?  (what?)) turns twenty-four today, right  here in The City That Loves You (On Your) Back, practically in Our very Own neighborhood.  Call Us; We’re avant garde.  Also, We pop out at parties, and are unpoopular.



Speaking of avant garde, here is a free gift for all you Fringe wannabes who have yet to decide on what exactly you’ll be doing in the Fringe:



We had a dream last night in which We were working on several Fringe pieces, one of which was a one-man show entitled Doing Everything My Employer Wants Me To, which was to be a scathing exposé of Our former employer, the EAC (Evil Acquiring Company, for you newbs), and a manifesto as to why We would never want to work in such an environment again. 



Trouble was, We were also working on several other Fringe shows, so We never had time to write the script for Doing Everything… Of course, since there was no script, We could not memorize it, and, since there was no script and We had nothing memorized, We could not rehearse.



Naturally, time, in dreams, being relative (mostly, as near as we can tell, a Great Aunt, on your mother’s side), it was now opening night, and We were expected to go on.  Our theatrical-type Gentle Readers will recognize in this the panic dream of having to go on in a show One does not know.  We, however, were totally unpanicked; We hung up a clock that said 4 o’clock, sat down at a desk onstage, and began to type on a laptop.  When the clock got to 5 o’clock, We stopped typing, shut the laptop, and left the stage.



You’re welcome.



It should also be noted that what We were typing on the laptop?  Was the script for another Fringe show.  Because We’re Just. That. Good.



Speaking of good to the last dropsy:





Meanwhile, We just heard where Will Smith’s 15-year-old son wants to be emancipated.  The jokes just write themselves, don’t they?



And now the HorrorScopes:



How is it that Anna Maria Alberghetti’s birthday still isn’t a national holiday?




In other news, because those Fringe scripts only write themselves in Our dreams, here, instead of Kelli’s blatherings, is this:



THE PRESIDENT’S CHALLENGE ADULT FITNESS TEST RECONSIDERS ITS AUDIENCE.

Lie down in sit-up position. How many slices of ham do you see under your couch?

Get in position for the sit-and-reach. Can you get back up, or are you pretty much down there until the FedEx guy comes by again?

Can you drive to work without stopping at Arby’s?

Can you retweet without sweating?

Can you achieve orgasm without thinking about cake?

To your knowledge, have you ever been a major factor in a corporate-level decision about where to build a Bob Evans?

Can you have a heart attack without also having a second heart attack?

Can you sweat without smelling like maple syrup?

Are you carrying bacon on your person? You sure?

Have you ever accepted Crisco as collateral?

Could you fit into a sidecar if you had to?

Do you currently have frosting in your hair?

Is your Blood-Gravy Content lower than, say, 11%?

Have any surgeons given nicknames to your arteries?

Time yourself in a one-mile run. Kidding! What are you, some kind of superman?

Name your five closest friends. Are more than two of them types of cheese?

Have you recently thought about how you should totally sign up for that 10K, but you just got over being sick, and work is super hectic right now, but maybe in the fall?

Have you ever been identified by name in a suicide letter written by a personal trainer?

Have you ever voted for a deep fryer in any state or local election?

What is the maximum number of corndogs you have consumed in one sitting, and Jesus, really?


In gaseousness,

Starzina Starfish-Browne



(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.