Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s! Daily! Horoscope! for JustAnotherMadDog20/20Monday, October 14st , 2013. Happy Birthday to Steve P., aka The Steve P., who may or may not turn twenty-four today, in, We just learned, Hoboken. Which is practically New York, but yet not really.
(We had to put the “P.” there, because Our nickname for Steve was always “The Steve Steve’sLastName”, because he was, like, ya know, famous and all. Of course, here at Eric’s!Daily!Horoscope!, We don’t use last names, in order to protect the anonymity of Our Gentle Readers. (We could, We suppose, have used a nom de plume. Which is, of course, Frawnch for “name that One calls One’s feathers”. Which, now that We think of it, really doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. (It does, however, make more sense than “nom de pubes”, which is Frawnch for “name that One calls One’s pubic hair”, because who the hell names their pubic hair?)))
(Note to Self: Ask The Steve P. what he calls his pubic hair.)
Happy Belated Birthday, meanwhile, to Ellie, Ken, Liz, and Thom, each of whom turned twenty-four on Saturday, for a grand total of ninety-six. All of them right here in The City That Loves You (On Your) Back, except for Liz, who did her twenty-four-turning in New York. Which is not only practically New York, but, in fact, IS New York. And has, presumably, no aspirations to be Hoboken.
(Note to Self: play on words involving “Hoboken” and “housebroken”.)
Happy Belated Birthday also to Jana, Jesse, Ross, and OurAmericanCousin Sarah, each of whom turned twenty-four on Sunday, except for OurAmericanCousin Sarah, who didn’t, so We have no idea what their grand total is. Math is hard. So is geography: while Jana turned twenty-four right here in The City Of Brotherly Love Handles, Jesse turned twenty-four somewhere in Illinois. Since all We know about the geography of Illinois is Lesley Ann Warren flashing her cootchie while singing “Chicago Illinois” in Victor/Victoria, We’re gonna say that Jesse did his twenty-four-turning in HottieVille. Which is like HooterVille, but with Hotties.
Ross, meanwhile, did his twenty-four-turning on an aeroplane, on his way back to The Colonies from Estonia, or Latvia, or some such place. And OurAmericanCousin Sarah turned whatever age she turned in the wilds of Pennsyltucky.
(This just in from the wilds of the WorldWideInterWebNetz: in queso trouble, pray to Cheezus.)
Speaking of pubic hair (what, you thought We forgot?), We trust you all enjoyed the remainder of your Picturing Allen And Kevin Naked Week. This week is, as We told you Friday, Picturing Peter’s Peter Week. Which would include, presumably, Picturing Peter’s Pubic Hair, unless there’s been some sort of bizarre manscaping incident.
(Note to Self: ask Peter for his nom de pubes, and report back to Gentle Readers.)
Having spread all of THAT happiness around, Happy Columbus Day to the rest of all y’all. How cool would it be to get a day named after yourself for “discovering” something that was there the whole time? Like, if Peter walked into this room naked right now, We could “discover” his pubic hair. Of course, Peter would have known his pubic hair was there the whole time. So, naturally, We’d have to kill him off with syphilis. Then and only then could We plant Our flag in his pubic hair and claim it for Spain.
Why We don’t have a job teaching history to grade school students, we haven’t got any idea.
And here is the HorrorScope:
As if Columbus Day weren’t (subjunctively) enough excitement for one day, it is also Dwight D. Eisenhower’s birthday. An occasion which We are about to make all the more special for you by uttering the phrase “Dwight D. Eisenhower’s pubic hair”.
One of your deeply-held ambitions comes closer to the surface today, (Is it just Us, or does that sound like it’s gonna hurt?)
and you’re happy as can be about that. (If you’re happy and you know it, give the natives the clap.)
Things are looking up for you, (Which, as We said just recently, is all fine and dandy, unless you’re a turkey in the rain.)
(Someone left my turkey out in the rain…I don’t think that I can take it, ‘cause it took so long to bake it…)
(Kiss Us quick, We’re Donna Summer.)
so just believe in yourself and all should work out for the best. (How can We believe in Ourself when We know that We’re imaginary?)
A new person in your life is sparking some questions in your own mind — where are you going — how soon do you need to get there? (What if the Hokey-Pokey really IS what it’s all about?)
Answers won’t come easy, and they shouldn’t. (Oh, please. These days, even the QUESTIONS don’t come easy.)
If they do, you’re probably just telling yourself what society expects of you. (Society shouldn’t hold its breath.)
So just let these questions simmer for a while (Alternatively, bake then at 350 for one hour.)
and don’t put too much pressure on finding an answer right now. (Why not?)
(Heh. See what We did there?)
Sooner or later you will come to some conclusions that will give you a firm foundation (And, more importantly, a firm foundation garment.)
and a plan of attack. (Plaque of a tan, caftan in black….there’s a joke in here somewhere, but We can’t get it out.)
Some new, amazing, compatible folks are almost certainly heading your way now, so keep your options open. (Our options are WIDE open. Also, fully dilated.)
Don’t overlook people who could make awesome friends (Out of what?)
— they could also know the one for you. (Wait…there’s one for Us? After all this not getting any? We’ll believe that when We see it.)
(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://sett.com/astrogeek895/. 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.