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Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Keeping your head above water, making a wave when you can

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s! Daily! Horoscope! for GoodPieRupeeTuesday, June 25, 2013.  Happy Birthday to Forrest, who turns twenty-four today right here in The City Of Brotherly Love Handles.  And who also, One would imagine, cannot be seen for the trees.  Invisibility…nice trick if you can pull it off.

Naturally, because We are We (and We We We all the way home), We are sitting here wondering why the name Forrest has two Rs, while the forest with trees in it has only one.  And We can’t even Google it on Wikipedia, because We can’t think of an intelligent way to phrase the question.  Also, We are afraid that Google’s answer would be something along the lines of, “The world is going to hell in a handbag, and THIS is what you’re worried about?  Wanker.”

Happy Belated Birthday, meanwhile, to Cammy, and Chris, and Dusty, and Mark, and OurAmericanCousin Sherry, each of whom turned twenty-four this past weekend, some of them in faraway places with strange-sounding names, but none of them, presumably, invisibly.

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?

Meanwhile, in other news, shortly after We posted yesterday’s episode, somewhere around noon, Our computer started doing an automatic Windows update.  (Are there three more frightening words in the Engrish ranguage?  (Well, perhaps McDonna’s anal bleaching.))  Naturally, We very shortly found Ourself completely unable to compute (and computely unable to complete), without any WorldWideInterWebNetz to Our name. The next eight hours (and no, We are NOT exaggerating, as We’ve told you a million times) were spent in one of Our favorite pastimes, which We like to call Amusing The Dotheads From Dell.  We shall spare you the soul-sucking details, but We were particularly enamored of the one who abandoned Us after the first four hours to “consult with my supervisor and call you back in two or three minutes”.  When We called back twenty minutes later, Indira Gandhi asked Us if We knew his name.  Now, he had told Us his name at the beginning, four hours prior, and it sounded like the noise you might make if you had accidentally swallowed a spoiled raw shrimp that had been sitting on a cowpie in the sun for a week. 

(That there was a little werd pixture We painted just for Our Gentle Readers.  Because We’re poetical like that.)

After his first mention of his name, however, he referred to himself subsequently as “Victor”.  “Oh,” sez Indira, “that must be his alias.” Thereby blatantly admitting that not only have these people stolen all of Our jobs, but they are sitting on their rotary telephones in Oh Calcutta blatantly lying to Us.

But enough about that.  You don’t care about Our pain.  Plus, it just occurred to Us that, when We say “Indira Gandhi”, We are actually picturing Golda Meir.  In a sorry.  And We’re not even sari about it.

And now the HorrorScopes:

Celebrity-wise, today is the birthday of both Jimmie Walker and June Lockhart.  And if THAT isn’t a remake of Driving Miss Daisy just crying out to be made, We don’t know what is.

In still other news, We are having birthday cake for breakfast.  Because We can.

You encounter a new idea or person this morning that fills you with hope and excitement.  (We sat on the phone in OurHouseWhereWeLive in Our bathrobe for eight hours yesterday, and consumed nothing but iced coffee.  Two thunderstorms came and went.  At this point, opening Our front door would fill Us with hope and excitement.)

It may relate to love, work, travel or almost anything, (Way to narrow it the fuck down.  Asshat.)

but it definitely inspires you to make a change.  (We are wearing Our Tuesday panties.  Of course, We are ALWAYS wearing Our Tuesday panties.  That way, We’re right once a week.)

When you are working in a group today, (Bite your damn tongue.)

you should experiment with the idea of holding back your thoughts. (Well, better your thoughts than your farts.  If you hold back your farts, you could ‘splode.)

Let others figure it out and argue back and forth, while you sit on the sidelines. (Or the landmines.  (Have We (dare We say it?) a fart theme developing?  A fart motif, if you will?  (Or even if you won’t…what makes you think it’s all about you?)  A fart motif being not unlike a leitmotif.  Which, of course, in the case of farts, is actually (wait for it) a light-your-farts-motif.))

(Ah, potty humor.  It’s my potty, and I’ll fart if I want to, fart if I want to, fart if I want to…)


(Micro$oft Weird™ has put a little green squiggle under the third “fart” in the sentence before “Sari”, as it would like to suggest that We change it to “and fart”.  Here a fart, there a fart, everywhere a fart-fart…)

Observe how they come to a not-so satisfying solution — and then add your brilliant ideas to the mix. (A whole bunch of fart jokes, and a pie fight.  How could you go wrong?)

Watching these people work together serves as a cautionary tale: it’s a good lesson how not to collaborate. (“Co” being the prefix that means “in conjunction with”, what the hell is “llaborate”?)

Your energy is going to be quiet all day.  (Silent butt deadly.)

You’re the one with the plan, (A man, a plan, anal sex, Panama.)

(What does that even MEAN?)

and your love life is where it’s at. (Speaking of invisibility…)

(See how We did that callback thingie to a joke from all the way at the beginning?  But We are A Highly-Trained Professional…do not attempt this at home.)

What active steps should you take to hook up with new folks? (Hire a hooker with a hookah?)

How should you expand your circle of social connections?  (Aren’t you supposed to be ANSWERING Our questions, Kelli?  What the hell kind of Ass(tromalogical) Ho(roscopulist) are you?)

In gaseousness (Heh.),

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.