Google+ Followers

Wednesday, October 16, 2013

Totally naked, baby, totally nude

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s! Daily! Horoscope! for WinesDay, October 16nd , 2013.   Our calendar wants Us to know that it is National Boss’s Day.  Of course, Our calendar is a Dilbert calendar, so We are pretty sure it is just fucking with Us.  Because when the fuck is it NOT fucking National Fucking Boss’s Day?

It appears, at least per SitOnMyFaceBook, to be the birthday of absolutely no one We know today, so We shall use this occasion to wish a Happy Belated Birthday to Catherine, who turned twenty-four a few days ago.  We have a calendar (other than the aforementioned Dilbert one) that has such information in it, but these days, We rely almost exclusively on SitOnMyFaceBook as Our source of birthday information, so since Catherine’s birthday didn’t SitOnOurFace, it slipped through the cracks.

(We only made that sound dirty to ensure that you were paying attention.)

Absence of birthdays aside, it is a very special day here at OurHouseWhereWeLive…they have finally paved War-Torn Warnock Street!  Which means We can begin the countdown to the next appearance of the jackhammerers with their jackhammers…

In other news, Picturing Peter’s Peter Week continues apace, and continues to include, presumably, Picturing Peter’s Pubic Hair, unless there’s been some sort of bizarre manscaping incident. We did in fact ask Peter for his nom de pubes, so We could report back to Our Gentle Readers, but We as yet have had no word on what, if anything, Peter has named his pubic hair. More on this story as it (ahem) develops.

It occurs to Us that, unlike the previous Picturing Allen And Kevin Naked Week, in which We have previously peeped at the penii at hand (as it were), Picturing Peter’s Peter Week is a completely different exercise, involving, as it does, one hundred percent imagination, and absolutely zero sense memory.  So if Allen or Kevin, say, were (subjunctively) to sext Us (as the kidz say) a private parts picture, per se, (“per se” didn’t really make sense there, but We were waxing poetic (although perhaps We shouldn’t say “waxing” so close to Allen and Kevin’s private parts)), those would be previously peeped penis pixtures, whereas (seriously?  How literate are We?) if Peter sexted Us a private peter picture, that would be a Peter’s penis picture premiere.

Meanwhile, lest you three gentlemen think this is all just random fun at your expense, the first one of you to send Us a private parts pixture (via phone, email, or SitOnMyFaceBook message) will receive a prize via return mail.  (And no, by “prize”, We do NOT mean a pixture of Our Own private parts.)

And here is the HorrorScope:

Maybe it’s just Us, but We’re pretty sure there should be a rule that Suzanne Somers cannot have been born on Angela Lansbury’s birthday.

This is not a good time to take on new plans or projects (How about new private parts pixtures?)

— even a first date should be rescheduled, if possible!  (What is this “first date” of which you speak?)

You just need to focus on the past, and that’s not conducive to novelty.  (Okay, what the fuck does that even MEAN?)

 It’s time to give that horse one last lash and let it rest in peace. (Mmm-hmm.  YOU try to put false eyelashes on a horse, and see how “peaceful” things are.)

(“False eyelashes on a horse”…that could lend a whole new dimension to Ru Paul’s Drag Race…)

 At this particular moment in time, it will be far easier to get mad and stay that way than to forgive and forget; but that doesn’t mean it’s the best thing to do.  (We have refrained all week from complaining about all the people who clearly think they are More Equal than We are, and all the people who not only neglected to turn up for Our show, but also neglected to even so much as say why they wouldn’t be there, to say nothing of continuing to bombard Us the whole time with messages to come see THEM perform somewhere (since THEY are so much More Equal, you see).  So don’t think you’re going to get Us to start complaining now.)


In fact, if you’re really still interested in keeping things together between you and the person you’ve been feuding with, why not lay all your cards out on the table, be totally honest and get the problem solved once and for all?  (Because, based on how things have been going lately, if We lay all Our cards on the table, they will likely pick up all Our cards and make off with them.)

As usual, you feel the need to be on the go. (Thanks, Fiber One™.)

Now is the time to enjoy pure stillness.

(It is impossible to type when One is purely still.  Just sayin’.)

Find a safe, quiet space and just listen to your mental ramblings. (“Mental ramblings”?  “MENTAL RAMBLINGS”?!? )

You could find the answer to something that’s been bugging you.  (Allen, Kevin, or Peter…who will be the first to send Us a private parts pixture?)

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.