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Wednesday, March 5, 2014

I can smell the death on the sheets

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s! Daily! Horoscope! for, March 5rd , 2014. Happy Hash Wednesday to all of Our Rastafarian readers.

Happy Birthday to Tom, who turns twenty-four today, right here in The City That Loves You (On Your) Back.  Happy Birthday also to Erik, who also turns twenty-four today, somewhere across the bridge in New Jersey. Happy Birthday also too to Floyd, who also too turns twenty-four today, somewhere across several bridges in Connecticut.

Additionally, Happy Birthday to Mary Ann, who turns twenty-four today in Altoona.  Altoona, Pennsylvania, that is.  Not Altoona, Texas. (Or Alabama, or Florida, or Iowa, or Kansas, or West Wisconsonomington.  (We knew there were several Altoonas in the country, but until We just now Googled on Wikipedia (did that sound dirty to you?  Because it sounded dirty to Us, and We knew what We were talking about (for a change)), We had no idea how many.))

Also, apparently, according to Micro$oft Weird™, “Altoonas” is not a correctly spelled plural of “Altoona”.  “Altoonae”?

And last but not Lee Strasberg, Happy Birthday to Egg, who turns twenty-four today in Eggleston (naturally), all the way over in the UK. (Or as We like to call it, “the YUK”.  (If you don’t see a yolk joke coming, you are clearly a total newb in these parts.))

In other news, We had a dream last night which involved the purchase of preposterously inordinate quantities of tealight candles from a dollar store. 

(“Preposterously Inordinate”, for those of you who were wondering, was Our nickname in high school.) 

This dream was followed, as such dreams are wont to be, by a dream involving Our Own Personal demise. We lay on Our deathbed, comforted by little except Our ability to conjugate the verb “lie” properly, and graphed Our capitulation to Our mysterious ailment on a chart, while waiting for people to come And visit Us.  We rallied three times, each more feebly than the last, and no one came.  Finally, an extremely tall gentleman whom We had never seen before appeared by Our bedside.  We told him that he was a very good man.

Then We died.

Or woke up.

One of those.


That was macabre, no?

In still other news, We are poor, so We need to sell a lot of tickets to the following:

We will be performing one night only, Thursday, March 6th, in The Walker and O'Dare Mystery Radio Hour at the Powel House.  Details here:

On Friday, March 7th, We will be performing one of the few remaining performances of Our murder mystery, Murder in Twelve Steps, which, if you haven’t seen in the past year, you probably don’t care about now.

And on Saturday, March 8th, We will be dusting off Everybody’s Favorite Messiah, Jesus H. Christ, as the WaitStaff plays The Match Game  at L’Etage:

Meanwhile, in ass(tromalogical) ho(roscopular) news, We have entered the sign of Pisces, Our most recent video for which is above.  Here is the link with which you may share it with your friends:  

Because you do that, don’t you?  DON’T YOU?

And here, because We can resist no opportunity to share it, is Our FIRST Pisces video, starring the now non-teen-aged Justin Bieber.  :

In celebrity birthday news, We are thinking that, if your last name is “Knight”, and you name your baby boy “Sterling”, he had best not grow up to be ugly.  So good thing THAT worked out okay, yes?

Your hard work finally pays off (Our yard work, on the other hand, pays no one. (We thought for sure that, by the time We turned twenty-four, We’d have a gardener.  And a pool boy.  At least one of whom would be named “Ramon”.  Or “Raoul”.  Sigh.))

— and this may be just the first installment. (Fuck “installments”.  We’ll take cash.)

It’s a good day for you to relax a bit as you prepare for the next phase of your big plan. (Wait…We have a plan?)

Get back to it soon, though!  (Okay, “it”?  What is this “it” of which you speak?  Pronouns need antecedents, you addled-pated AssHatt.)

You’ve trained yourself to relax and count to ten when you feel the fire rising up to color your cheeks. (That was an undercover fart joke, wasn’t it?)

If it happens today, you’re better off putting some distance between you and whomever has turned up the thermostat — especially if that flushed feeling starts creeping around to the back of your neck. (Good lord, it’s an undercover fart ANECDOTE, fercrissakes!)

Take a power-walk!  (With a powerbottom!  Or someone who has a powerrtool!  (Paging Jeff Stryker…Jeff Stryker, to the white courtesy phone please…))

You may feel ready to go for a big kill as far as romance is concerned, but Cupid has other plans. (Because nothing says “romance” like a BIG KILL.)

Something else is going on behind the scenes that you don’t know about yet. (Wait…are We in the audience, or are We in the play?  You’re muddling your metaphor, Moron.)

Hold off on making any big commitment for now until the momentum changes. (Aren’t these daily e-pisstles e-nough e-vidence that We have no intention of having Ourself committed?  Jeebus.)

Namaste, MotherFuckers.

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.