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Wednesday, September 25, 2013

Birthday greetings, bottle of wine

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s! Daily! Horoscope! for WinesDay, September 25rd, 2013.  Happy Hump Day to Juan Anne Dahl.

Whatever your political affiliation, you no doubt receive, as We do, some quantity of political emails alerting you to Washingtonian shenanigantics, usually exhorting you to send funds to nudge said shenanigantics in whichever direction you lean.  And We are aware that The Personal Touch is no doubt most effective in inspiring said fund dispersal.  However, someone should be made aware that an email purporting to be from Michelle Obama with the subject line, “Eric, it’s me” makes Us feel as though the First Lady has jumped out of Our broom closet at Us and said “Boo!”


Meanwhile Happy Birthday to Michael, who turns twenty-four today, somewhere in New York, New York, The City That Never Sleeps (With Us).  Happy Birthday also to Hope, who also turns twenty-four today, somewhere called Orwigsburg, Pennsyltucky, of which We had never heard until just this very moment.   Also too also, Happy Birthday to Charly, who also too also turns twenty-four today. In Tennessee.  Which, now that We type it out (which We so rarely do), makes Us wonder why it doesn’t have its own little spelling song, a la “em-eye-ess-ess-eye-ess-ess-eye-pee-pee-eye” for spelling “Alabama” or whatever the fuck.

And, last but not Lee Strasberg, Happy Birthday to Van, who turns twenty-four today in El Lay.  Or Frito Lay.  One of those.

In other news, despite what your WorldWideInterWebNetz may have told you, Daniel Radcliffe will NOT be playing Freddie Mercury in the upcoming biopic.  We know that worrying about that was occupying all of OUR time.

In other news, The Red-Headed Step-Child of the Philadelphia Theatrical Community has concluded the run of her show, so you will be spared entreaties to purchase tickets.  Also, despite efforts on the part of many to make her feel Less Equal Than Everybody Else, the bitch made her bank, so said show will be back to annoy you all shortly.

Thank you, meanwhile to all of those who came out and/ or supported Us.  We are already hard at work on the Kickstarter rewards.

And here is the HorrorScope:

Speaking of El Lay, We imagine it is closed today in honor of Heather Locklear’s Birthday.  And, in case you were accidentally feeling young or something, Anson Williams, who was, of course, Potsie on Happy Days, is sixty-four today.  Will We still need him, will We still feed him?

Your phone keeps ringing (Yeah, no.  No, it doesn’t.)

— but you can’t always answer it. (Dude.  That is SO existential.  Like, if Helen Keller falls down on Forest Whitaker, who designs the sound?)

Try to manage your communications with an eye toward what’s more important to you.  (We tried that.  Johnny Depp has Our calls blocked.)

Make one person a priority and keep them available.  (Chained up in the basement?  How exactly does that work?)

Two possible scenarios are on the agenda. (Great!  Usually, all We get is one impossible impresario, or two implausible Super Mario Brothers.)

(We have no earthly idea what the fuck We’re talking about.  You know that, right?)

First, a wonderfully entertaining individual will charm you right out of your fiery little shoes with not much more than a word, a glance or a gesture you’ll find immensely attractive … okay, irresistible. (Wait…Our shoes are on fire?!?)

Second, someone could try to manipulate you into dealing with something that’s never been at the top of your favorite list: details you see as not just unimportant, but also extremely irritating. (We vote against that.  Especially since We just narrowly escaped The Towering Shoe Inferno.)

If they arrive at the same time, make yourself scarce. (Feets, don’t fail Us now!)

 It’s got to be better in the long run.  (Our shoes were just on fire.  How the fuck are We supposed to run?)

(Or should that be, “How the fuck are We Supp-Hosed™ to run?”)

 If you’re having trouble breaking the ice with your latest crush, (Which makes a lot more sense than crushing the ice with Our latest break.)

try using email to get things moving. (Yeah. ‘Cause THAT’S sex-ay.)

Flirt with smilies! (Alternatively, fart with similes.   You know, as if you were (subjunctively) farting, but you’re really doing something else entirely.  (We have no idea what, but We hope it involves Daniel Radcliffe and Johny Depp.))

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.