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Friday, July 26, 2013

I can't get no satisfaction

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s! Daily! Horoscope! for  FriedEgg, July 26nd , 2013 .  Only five more shopping months till Boxing Day.

So here’s this, from the WayBack Machine:

Happy Birthday to Jules, who turns twenty-four today, in Mississippi.  (When YOU type “Mississippi”, do YOU say “em-eye-ess-ess-eye-ess-ess-eye-pee-pee-eye” too?  And then, do YOU laugh because, heh, YOU said “pee-pee”?)

(Just Us?  Alrighty, then.)

(We’re going to take those chirping crickets to mean that YOU don’t type Mississippi.  (Heh…We did it again.)  You should try it…it’s fun.)

We just got a text with Our call time for the murder mystery this evening, complete with the information that We are having NINETY-FIVE guests!  Now, while We are thrilled at Our tip prospects, We do just have to say, “WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU PEOPLE?”  On what promises to be the nicest weekend of the summer so far downa shore, you’re gonna sit in a windowless room watching dinner theatre and eating minestrone?  Remind Us not to agree to DATE any of you.

Yeah, like anyone would date Us.

(Heh…not only did We say “pee-pee”, We said “pee-pee eye”.)

(We kill Us.)

Meanwhile, after yesterday’s coffee tribulations, you will be pleased to hear that We are drinking actual coffee today.  We know you were concerned.

And here is the HorrorScope:

Okay, it is Mick Jagger’s SEVENTIETH birthday.  For all those old farts who said rock and roll wouldn’t last.  Also, it is Helen Mirren’s birthday.  Making Us imagine, of course, Helen Mirren in The Mick Jagger Story. As Mick Jagger, natch.  Because if anyone could do it, Helen Mirren could.

Clearly, there is precious little actual content in here today.  Moving on…

This is not a good time to take on new work — or anything else new, for that matter!  (Well, alrighty, then!)

Even if that hottie asks you out, (Yeah.  THAT could happen.)

defer it for at least one more night, (De fur is in de moth balls because it is de summer.)

(Is it difficult to hold the moth’s little legs apart?)

so you can handle the consequences.  (But We cannot handle the truth.)

After doing your best to hold a grudge — something you’ve never been any good at  (Sorry…have We met?)

— a peaceful wave washes you away from it, even if a friend did something that feels like absolute treason to you.   (How would We know?  Who sees anybody?)

You’ll wake up feeling compassionate, and ready, finally, perhaps, to accept the apology. (Ooops…what if We accidentally accepted the apocalypse?)

Still, while forgiving is a good idea, don’t feel bad if you’re not quite able to forget. (Forget what?)

(Heh.  See what We did there?)

 It’s called wisdom, (What is?)

and it comes with experience.  (What does?)

(We used to be into S&M, necrophilia, and bestiality, but then We realized We were just beating a dead horse.)

You’re probably a little turned off by commitment for now, even if it’s just making short-term plans.   (We have three murder mysteries in the next four days.  If We retain any marbles at the end of it, it will be a miracle.)

Go with your instincts (Which are aptly named, because they stink.)

and keep your agenda low-key. (Or loco.  One of those.)

Alone may be the way to go for you.  (You could have saved yourself a lot of blathering if you’d just started off with this bit, Kelli.  Of course, since it sounds like a fortune cookie, you’ll wanna end it with “in bed”.  Guess what?  Still works.)

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.