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Friday, June 28, 2013

I wanna kiss the bride

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s! Daily! Horoscope! for Friday, June 28, 2013.  Happy Birthday to Avram, who turns twenty-four today somewhere in suburbia. Also, Happy Birthday to LaVonne, who  also turns twenty-four today, albeit in Altoona or thereabouts.

We did not make up either of those names, just so ya know.

In other news, must it seriously rain Every. Single. Goddamn. Day.  FOR THE REST OF OUR NATURAL LIVES???

Meanwhile, those of you on Eric’s!Daily!Horoscope! Marriage Vigil will be both flummoxed and flabbergasted to hear that no one has proposed to Us yet again, for the second day running.  Although a str8 boi did butter Us up.  But We suspect he was after something other than Our hand in marriage.  (Please note that no actual dairy products were harmed in the creation of this paragraph.)

And this just in from Serious Eats: New York:  “A Whole Smoked Hog In Queens!”  What sort of circuit party will those crazy queens think up next?

Here is a random piece of videosity to silly up your Friday morning:

In still other news, We apparently owe an apology to all of Our SitOnMyFaceBook friends.  You see, yesterday, We were joining a social media group called GoodReads, in which One rates books One has read, and receives suggestions based on same and from One’s friends.  We had arrived at a step where We thought We were contacting Our SitOnMyFaceBook friends who were already part of the group, but it would seem that Our newly refurbished computer was going too fast for Us, and We wound up inviting everyone who had ever SatOnOurFace.  So We do apologize, please feel free to ignore Our invitation to join a group of which you’ve never heard, and it’s all Literary Heartthrob Christopher Rice’s fault.

In other news, as you can see,  Our latest video, Starzina’s Time of the Month Horoscope: CANCER 2013 is above. 

If you’ve been paying attention (oh, relax; We know you haven’t), you will note that this is the fourth installment in a (so far) four e-pissode story arc.  Because We’re a writer like that, and stuff.

We would like you to take this link to said video and email it to your friends.  Or put it on their SitOnMyFacebook pages.  Or, if they are having a Cancer birthday, wish them a happy birthday with it.  Seriously, people…is this so difficult?

We just received a notification that Top Brass™ Vodka, whatever THAT may be, is following Us on Twatter.  We must be more legendary than We had previously imagined.

And here is the HorrorScope:

Get in the cock-a-doodie car, Mister Man, because it’s Kathy Bates’s birthday.  It is also the birthday of Our future ex-husband, John Cusack.

You have to divert some of your great energy toward other people today — (Is it just Us, or would this be the perfect place for a fart joke?  (Of course, is there ever a NON-perfect place for a fart joke?))

otherwise, you may find that things start to get pretty crazy when their needs start to outweigh yours.  (Outweigh?  Oh, please.  Have you SEEN Our ass lately?  Ain’t nobody gonna outweigh this mess.)

After thinking about making changes for so long and not mentioning it to anyone, the obvious solution has suddenly dawned on you:  (You will pry Our Tuesday panties off of Our cold, dead crotch, bee-yotch.)

(Wow, that was actually much more disgusting than We had anticipated.)

(Also, in the midst of all the disgust, how many Gentle Readers noticed that “crotch” and “bee-yotch” rhyme?  Apparently, We are a poet, but We are unaware of it.)

If you really want to change,  (We will take all the change We can get.  Rubbing these two nickels together has gotten really, really old.)

what could possibly fulfill that urge more dramatically than moving, long distance?  (More dramatically than moving long distance…hmmm…how about gender reassignment surgery?)

(Please note that We are not in any way CONTEMPLATING gender reassignment surgery, but you must agree that it would be WAAAAYYY more dramatic than moving to Dubuque.  (Although We might be tempted to consider gender reassignment surgery if they’d let Us ADD a gender.  After all, if We were (subjunctively) reassigned as a hermaphrodite, that would sort of double Our chances, no?  (Of course, two times zero is still zero, and, with Our luck, the only thing that would increase if We were a hermaphrodite would be Our ability to go fuck Ourself.))

To extricate Ourself from this verbal morass (if only it were so easy to extricate Ourself from this literal more ass), this seems like an excellent place for The Lovely And Talented Willam Belli and The Vagina Song:

(If you need Us to tell you this is Not Safe For Work, We’ve got some swampland in Florida to sell you:)

After all, that would mean you’d have to change your home, your job, all your relationships and all your habits. (Do you think We’d get laid more if We wore a habit?)

 If all this sounds invigorating rather than frightening, get busy, (We’d love to…with whom?)

the sooner the better.  (We’re pretty sure that saying is actually “the bigger, the better”.  Just sayin’.)

You and a dear friend are stuck in a romantic dilemma — you’re probably both attracted to the same hottie!  (And sloppy seconds are okay with Us.)

Weigh all your options (Again with this “weighing” business.  It’s like this is one big fat joke.)

and check your motivation. (At the door?)

Is it really worth ending a friendship over?  (You’re the Ass(tromalogical) Ho(roscopulist)…you tell Us.)

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.