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Monday, May 13, 2013

Isadora was the first bra-burner…ain’t’cha glad she showed up?

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s! Daily! Horoscope! for  JustAnotherMonkFishMonday,  May 13, 2013.  Happy Birthday to David, and Jeremy, and Patrick, each of whom turns twenty-four today, for a grand total of seventy-two.  (Seventy-two WHAT, We have no idea.)  Also, Happy Belated Birthday to Christine, who turned twenty-four over the weekend.

Friday’s e-pissode was clearly one of those “Why do We bother?” days, as alerts We sent out to its existence were resoundingly ignored in hostile droves.  And it was Birute Galdikas’s’ birthday and everything!  Perhaps people were just too busy baking Biruite Galdikas’s birthday cakes to pay attention.  In case that is the case Casey Kasem, here is a not-so-instant replay of Our Birute Galdikas Birthday Tribute.  You’re welcome.

Our celebrity birthday website, meanwhile, would like Us to know that it is Birute Galdikas’s birthday.  Ms. Galdikas, it would have Us know, in case Our memories were bumfuzzled (third time!  That word is OURS!), “worked closely with the orangutans of Indonesian Borneo in their natural habitat for almost four decades”. Now, of course, We all remember fondly the early works of The Orangutans of Indonesian Borneo, particularly their debut album, We’re the Orangutans of Indonesian Borneo, their sophomore album, Who You Callin’ Orangutans of Indonesian Borneo?, and their seminal third and fourth albums, You Rang? Born, Yo and Up Against the Wall, You Indonesian Motherfucker. Alas, this early promise was never to be fulfilled, as the lead singer promptly embarked on an ill-advised solo career, and the bass player married Yoko Ono’s gynecologist.  Fortunately, following the dark, dark disco period, and the nadir that was their Bond song, “My Dick Is Substantially Larger Than Yours”, they have been able to make a quasi-comeback as an ABBA cover band, and are currently enjoying some success playing gay weddings in Indonesian Borneo.

So, yeah, Happy Birthday, Birute Galdikas.

In other news, We were tiptoeing through the tulips of Our archives this morning, prior to performing preliminaries for a pending project (pee all over THAT, onomatopee-ers), and it came to Our attention that, early next year, the Justin Timberlake-Janet Jackson SuperBowl Intermission Wardrobe Malfunction Thingie will have been TEN YEARS AGO.  So there’s that.

Speaking of Our archives, you ARE aware that previous years of Eric’s!Daily!Horoscope! can be obtained for low, low prices as e-books (no, E-REALLY) at ?  Aren’t you?

We feared, meanwhile, that after such a disastrous Friday, and a Saturday on which Our weekend seemed determined to take a turn for the perverse worse, that We were going to have to come in here and complain to all y’all this morning.  Not that We’re not a Highly-Trained Professional Complaining expert and all, but, fortunately, We seem to have been able to turn chicken shit into chicken salad.  At least temporarily.

To further repeat Ourselves, however, Our Friday alert was greeted with such a flurry of “DickSucking KnobGobbler has left the conversation” doorslamming (really…that’s how SitOnOurFaceBook signals that someone has left a conversation)  that We have no idea who actually was alerted by it and remained in the conversation, albeit ignoring Us all the while.  So, if perchance they are still within the sound of Our voice out where Mary Tyler Moore threw up her hat, or in case Our not-so-far-flung-and-who-knows-how-well-hung Eye-talian boi is still in da house, here’s this colorful manifesto:

Speaking of speaking of things of which We have recently spoken, We just came across the “speaking of” from Our most recent e-pisstle, to wit:

“Speaking of twenty-four-year-old Eye-talian boys who pole-dance in Our dreams…”  

…which caused Us to reflect, as much as One whose brains are as bumfuzzled as Ours canreflect, without a mirror or a reflecting pool, on the fact that the people spoken of in Our recent “speaking ofs” have all been real live people, and yet, not a one of them has responded to being spoken of.  (If that sentence were (subjunctively) in German, it would not end in a preposition, because German would no doubt have a word for “ofspoken”.  Because Germans are efficient like that.)

And so, in an effort to increase two-way communication here at Eric’s!Daily!Horoscope!, here is a review of some recent ofspokens, to give them all another chance to see themselves in print:

Speaking of twenty-four-year-old Eye-talian boys who pole-dance in Our dreams,

Speaking of “apparently, str8 bois will NOT send you random pictures of their junk, even if said pictures cannot possibly be traced back to them”,

Speaking of “on Tuesday there was a naked guy from Minnesota where Mary Tyler Moore threw up her hat, on Wednesday there was a G-stringed stripper from Jersey, meanwhile, did We mention the guitar player?”

Speaking of woodchuck cock in a Jersey stripper’s G-string (is Our ability to develop a theme uncanny, or what?  (Who said, “Or what?”) (also, is it just Us, or is “uncanny” one of those words that sounds like it should mean something else entirely?)),

Speaking of “Capital One™: what’s in YOUR codpiece?”, We are still awaiting with bated breath (which, as We have explained many times before, is different than baited breath, because, eeeeuuuuwwww) photographs of codpiece contents from Minnesota.  To quote historically from yesterday:

“And now, having spent a full twenty-four hours reflecting upon Our naked Minnesotan, One wonders if it isn’t, in fact, a little cold in Minnesota to be naked.  Shrinkage issues, and whatnot.  Perhaps naked Minnesotan experts will weigh in on this.  Hopefully with photographic evidence.”

Speaking of “Is that the Virgin Mary in your Speedo™, or are you just happy to see Us?”,

Speaking of who do We need to blow to get some dick up in here, as you can see above, We have released Our new Starzina’s Time of the Month Horoscope:  Taurus video.  Here is the link with which you will share it with your friends, enemies, frenemies, enemists, and frenulums:

Also, for those of you who like cups of tea, and history, and someone in a tree, here is last year’s Taurus video for comparison:

And now the HorrorScopes:

Just when We thought nothing could top Birute Galdikas’s birthday, today?  Is Bea Arthur’s birthday!  It is also the birthday of Our future ex-husband, Hunter Parrish.

Your emotional surroundings are somewhat more difficult than usual — which may provoke some serious reactions in you!  (Nanny nanny poo poo.)

(What? Not serious enough?)

That’s okay, though, because sometimes honesty really is the best policy.  (But where does amnesty fit in?  Not to mention hoamnesty.  And amhonesty.)

(Cunning linguistics…it’s like aerobics, except for your tongue.)

(Okay, is anyone else now imagining their tongue wearing Spandex™ tights and an athletic supporter?  Just Us?  Alrighty, then.)

You might find that good energy is a bit hard to come by, today — everyone seems to be grumpy (Which is silly of them, when there are six other perfectly good dwarves they could be.  If they’re into that sort of thing.)

or holding a grudge that they just won’t let go of. (There’s really no other verb that pairs with “grudge”, is there?  Pretty much the only thing anyone does with a grudge is hold it.  Which is (A.) extremely predictable, and (2.) makes for an amazingly dull Kenny Rogers lyric.)

(We’ll pause here, to give those of you for whom that last joke was too e-soteric a chance to up-catch.)

Your first urge might be to try and cheer them up, but you should resist it. (Actually, Our first urge was to take a blowtorch to their crotchal areas.  Because that?  Would cheer Us up.)

Not only will trying to affect the moods of other people be a total waste of your time, it’s really none of your business.  (Wow.  Way to bring down the room with a cesspool full of negativity.)

Just focus on keeping yourself bright and cheerful.  (We shall commence to singing “Found A Peanut” in three, two, one…)

And the best way to ensure that is to keep your distance from the people who are in bad moods.  (Alternatively, you could walk a mile in their shoes.  Because then, you’re a mile away, and you’ve got their shoes.)

While this may not end up as one of your favorite days ever to grace your love life, (What was your first clue?)

you do have a deep, intuitive sense of the situation. (Why is it always a situation?  Why can it never be a liedownuation?)

Work it hard if you want to pick up some fresh understanding. (We heard that you get a discount if you pick up some peace and love with that.  (No one, however, will find it funny.))

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.