Hello, Ducks!
Starzina
Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s! Daily! Horoscope! for Friday, May Turd, Twenny-Turdteen. Happy Birthday to Deborah, who turns
twenty-four today. Also, Happy Birthday
to Larry, who also turns twenty-four today. Also also, Happy Birthday to Shelita Buffet,
who also also turns twenty-four today.
All right here in The City Of Brotherly Love Handles. (Well, Shelita Buffet is actually in Chest
Wester, but close enough.)
Belatedly,
Happy Belated Birthday to OurAmericanCousin Chris, Elaine, Izzy, Pat, and Robb,
each of whom turned twenty-four yesterday.
For a Grand Total of a hundred and twenty. That’s eight hundred and forty in dog-years.
Or, as We call them around these parts, “bitch-years”.
We
missed all of those birthdays yesterday because We were absent from
Bloggonia. Oh, We’re fine. No, really.
But thanks for asking. The
chirping crickets were a nice touch.
We
have Precious Little to report. (We feel
as though We say that all the time, but a quick tiptoe through the tulips of
Our archives shows that We have only employed said phrase eleven times
before. (Or, as Precious Little would
say, “elebben”.) Here is the most
notable vintage occurrence:
“We
have Precious Little to report. Precious Little being, naturally, Chicken
Little’s gay brother. Who was totally fabulous, until the Skyy™
fell. Apparently, no one ever taught him the old maxim, don’t cry over
spilt vodka. Precious little was heard of Precious Little after that,
despite the ascent to stardom of his (and Chicken Little’s) older brother, Rich
Little. Who became famous for doing Paul Lynde. Well, doing impressions of Paul Lynde. He may
or may not have done him, also. Precious Little certainly would have, but
he and Rich Little didn’t travel in the same circles much after The Frank
Gorshin Incident.
(See
how We just made something out of nothing there? Stayed tuned, as later
on, We shall being turning chickenshit into chicken salad.)”
Whatever
would We do without The WayBack Machine to brighten up an otherwise dull
e-pisstle to the E-phesians with a-phasia?
In other
news, We had dinner last night at Good Dog, which is a very oddly-put-together
bar and restaurant on 15th Street, with the steepest staircases in
the known universe. We had never been
there before, and, if any Gentle Reader could tell Us what the building was
before it was Good Dog, We’d appreciate the history lesson. Based on the staircases alone, We would be willing
to bet on some nefarious goings-on in this building’s past.
Our
WorldWideInterWebNetz had told Us prior to Our visit that We should try their
award-winning Good Dog Burger, and since We do everything The Voices tell Us to
do, We did. It was indeed a delicious
burger, although We were completely unenamored of the bun. Fortunately, Our dinner companion had
world-class lovely buns to make up for it.
Micro$oft
Weird™ would have Us believe that “unenamored” is not a word’ but offers no
suggestions for its replacement.
Nonenamored? Antienamored? Disenamored?
Armie Hammer (speaking of buns)?
We got nothin’.
Attention, SitOnOurFaceBook friends: We? Do
not play Farmville. Are you fucking
retarded? How many fucking requests to
shove a fucking rutabaga up your fucking stupid assholes do We fucking have to
ignore before you fucking GET that We?
Do. Not. Play. Farmville. Jeebus.
Well. We feel much better now. We love the smell of fucking rutabaga
assfuckers in the morning. (That there is a fillum quote. From Asspocalypse
Now.)
Speaking
of people with tuberous vegetables in their rectum (rectum? We nearly
KILLED ‘em! (Why is this new paragraph making Us think of Michael
Douglas and Matt Damon in that new Liberace movie?)), 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:
(Did anyone notice that
all of the preceding was a rerun? That’s
what you get for sending crickets to inquire after Us when We go missing. Next time, send Lassie. For all you know, We could have fallen down
the well like that mongoloid idiot of a Timmy. (Or like the pussy in “Ding Dong
Bell”. (Or like Timmy’s Dong in Belle’s
pussy for the Ding, Ba-Da-Bing, that’s-what-she-said.)))
(Didn’t see that last bit
coming, didja?)
And now (changing, for some artifactual
reason, to birthday-cake-icing-baby-blue), here are the HorrorScopes:
Speaking of Bing, it is Bing Crosby’s
birthday. He is, however, dead, so don’t
expect cake. Also, when We went
spelunking for celebrity birthdays, We came across this tidbit of
disinformation (of which We are unenamored):
NOAH MUNCK 17
Plays the frequently-shirtless Gibby on iCarly.
We have no idea what any of those words mean. (Oh, dear lord, We just Googled Mister Munck
on Wikipedia…someone get the mental floss, the brain bleach, and a rusty
grapefruit spoon with which to remove Our eyeballs.)
You’re a born leader, (Also, We are a rebel. And We’ll never, ever be. Any good.)
even if you rarely exercise that talent. (Wethinks you’ve
misplaced your period, Kelli. (“Wethinks”
is, of course, “methinks” using The Royal We.
(Vagina jokes are never funny.
Period.)))
Today brings you an opportunity (With ENORMOUS knockers.)
to step up and take charge when your people get confused,
so be ready to save the day! (Kiss Us
quick, We’re Mighty Mouse. Or Modest
Mouse. One of those.)
Don’t be afraid to step up and take on a new responsibility
or two today. (When you walk through a
storm, hold your haddock high, and don’t be afraid of Dick Clark.)
Adding a few more ambitions (We keep telling you: it’s “amBITCHins”.)
to your life is not an invitation to failure. (Well,
good. Because We would definitely have
to send regrets.)
(See what We did there?
That there was one of those existential jokes. You can tell, because it wasn’t funny.)
Sure, you won’t be able to reach every goal for yourself. (You go, Knute Rockne.)
(We’ll take “Things You Never Expected To See In An Eric’s!Daily!Horoscope!”
for $500, Alex.)
But the more goals you do set, the better your odds are for
reaching at least one of them. (So, according to this theory, if We attempt to
sleep with the entire Swedish Olympic Men’s Swim Team, We should get to bang at
least one of them. Nice.)
You can’t think in complete terms — right now, close enough
is good enough. (Okay, Kelli. Stand over there while We throw these
horseshoes at your head.)
Being perfect is never possible, (And, oddly enough, being
imperfect is never impossible, so it all works out.)
but that should not stop you from trying to be better than
you are right now. (Wait…it gets better than THIS?!?)
Any plans you make today should have some extra mojo behind
them, (Eating FroYo in slo-mo at the HoJo’s next to the dojo…nope, We got
nothin’.)
so why not shoot for the stars? (Because there’s a
seven-day-waiting period for a gun.)
Send out a few hot invitations, slap together a few parties
or just ask that one cutie (Patootie?)
out for real. (Fo’
shizzle my nizzle.)
(What?)
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!)
*****************************************************************************
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.
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