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Wednesday, May 22, 2013

I lost my poor meatball when somebody sneezed

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s! Daily! Horoscope! for  WinesDay, May Twenty-Twoth, Twenty-Thirteen.  (“Twenty” is suddenly striking Us as an odd word.  It seems to want to be an adjective.  It is unclear what it would mean.  “Move your twenty ass before We set it on fire.” “She kicked him right in his twenty balls.”  Hmmm… is puzzlement.)

It is not easy being Us.

Happy Birthday, meanwhile, to The Lovely And Talented AstroGeek, who turns twenty-four today somewhere in Oh Hai Ohio.  Also Happy Birthday to Jeremy, who also turns twenty-four today, albeit in WeHo.  (Should We call it “Oh Hai WeHo”?  (Do We know anybody having a birthday in Oh Hai Iowa?  Eventually, We will have the lyric to some bizarre novelty song.  (Wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh Wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh Wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh Wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh, wimoweh In the jungle, the mighty jungle The lion sleeps tonight In the jungle, the quiet jungle The lion sleeps tonight….)))


Also also, Happy Birthday to Bill, who also also turns twenty-four today, en route, sources tell Us, to Italy.  Whence come the Eye-talians.  Also also also lhasa apso, Happy Birthday to Steve, who also also also lhasa apso turns twenty-four today, right here in The City That Loves You (On Your) Back.  Whence come plenty of other Eye-talians.

We are in a foul humor this morning.  As opposed, presumably, to a fowl humor, which would be the bodily fluid of a chicken or some such.  Which, being seldom exposed to actual live chickens, One might assume (thereby shoving Hume Cronyn up Uma Thurman’s ass) to be not unlike chicken soup.  Which, come to think of it, the humidity is making the atmosphere seem not unlike, so perhaps We ARE in a fowl humor as well.  Given The Universe’s propensity for expecting Us to turn chicken shit into chicken salad, that would be oddly fitting.

You will recall that, yesterday, We were up at the crack of ass in nervous anticipation of Our pending Meatball Eating Meeting (there is just no way to say that without it sounding dirty, is there?).  It did not go well.  Oh, Our meatballs were both meaty and ball-like, and Our gravy was both grave and sauce-like, but, as usual, The Universe intended to fuck with Us.   To wit, if A Good Thing happens for Our Meatball Eating Meeting partner (gawd, that sounds filthy!), We cannot get what We want.  And trust Us, Our Meatball Eating Meeting partner (SMUT!!!) is someone for whom Good Things Happen.  Unlike, say, Our Own Self.

So, having already gone to bed In A Mood, imagine Our euphoria to arise this morning and find Ourself in a copyright dispute with YouTube over background music on Our latest Time of the Month Horoscope video.

There are times when We think that the only reason We don’t just end it all is Our refusal to give so many people the satisfaction.  (This, in case you were wondering, is one of those times.)

So if any of all y’all have any CHEERFUL news that you’ve been waiting to surprise Us with, now would be a good time.

Chirping crickets are not cheerful.

And now the HorrorScopes:

Speaking of things that’ll cheer ya right up, today is Morrissey’s birthday.

You need to really listen today (Sorry…did you say something?)

— otherwise, a relationship could turn sour for a good long while. (Could it turn whiskey sour?)

Someone needs to know that you care, (Once you can fake sincerity, you’ve got it made.)

even if you can’t do anything to fix what’s wrong.  (The fact that We can never fix what is wrong is one of the things that’s wrong.  (How do you KNOW it’s an endless loop….endless loop…endless loop..?))

You are correct to think that today is a great day to get a new project started,  (Weill, let’s see…once the Meatball Eating Partnership goes belly up (WOW, the porn just keeps on coming!  (Heh…We said “coming”)), and We are thrown off of YouTube, what exactly would this “new project” be?)

but try to pace yourself. (Why don’t We just open up Our chest and put a pacemaker where Our heart used to be?)

Don’t run right out and try to tackle everything all at once.  (You’re picturing Us in a  football costume now, aren’t you?  Cheeky monkeys.)

You’ll only end up tired at the end of the day, (Honey, We were tired at the BEGINNING of the day.)

without much to show for it. (How does “nothing” grab ya?)

Instead, take time up front to do some research and planning. (Because THAT won’t be at all futile, oh, no it won’t.)

There is plenty of time to do what you want to do, (Of course, the fact that there’s plenty of time for it doesn’t mean We’ll actually get to DO it, but presumably, We should be thankful for, oh, We don’t know, NOTHING.)

and if you take things at a leisurely pace you will enjoy the entire process a whole lot more.  (Now We are changing out of the football costume and into a leisure suit.  The lengths to which We will go to amuse YouPeople…)

Be confident in who you are and what your life is. (A teeming cesspool of ennui?)

You may not have chosen the path that most people have, but that’s because you are most definitely not like most people. (This is not making Us feel any better.)

That goes double when it comes to romance.  (See, for SOME people, that sentence would mean they get to do it with twins.  Not, naturally, for Us, but for SOME people.)

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:  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.