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Thursday, August 21, 2014

And he said you can call me Joshua

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s! Daily! Horoscope! for, August TwennyOnest, 2014.

Happy birthday to Connie, who turns twenty-four today right here in The City Of Brotherly Love Handles.

Happy birthday also to Mark, who also turns twenty-four today, right across the bridge from The City That Loves You (On Your) Back. (We do not make New Jersey Jokes.  We are A Highly-Trained Professional, so We leave the easy jokes for the amateurs.)

And last but not Lee Strasberg, happy birthday to Josh, who turns twenty-four today, not only in the very same city as We Our Own Self Personally, but a mere throne’s toe away.

We shall leave the amateurs to contemplate the concept of thrones having such appendages as toes, while We hold forth on weightier matters.

To wit:

Upon contemplating the natal anniversary of the aforementioned LovelyAndTalented Josh earlier this morning, We were given to reflect upon various and sundry Joshes with whom We have been acquainted throughout Our twenty-four years.  We found Ourself completely incapable of recalling a single one who was unattractive.

Our memory being what it is (faulty at best, and damn near non-existent), We cast about for a more scientific approach.  We made Our way to SitOnOurFaceBook and searched Our friends for Joshes.

There were six of ‘em, each one hotter than the next.

So there you have it: scientific proof that an unattractive Josh is a statistical impossibility.

(One wonders (third-personally, for the amusement of the Josh Du Jour) what exactly would happen if One took an ugly person, and renamed them Josh…)

(It also occurs to Us, parenthetically (hence the parentheses), that there are those who might think six Joshes amongst One’s friends is a lot.  We would point out that it pales in comparison to Our TWENTY-EIGHT Michaels.)

Apropos of nothing, We have just this minute learned, thanks also to SitOnOurFaceBook, that on airport infrared security cameras, they can SEE your FARTS.

You’re welcome.

In still other news, We have a Very Special Private Murder Mystery today at the Murder Mystery Factory, so forgive Us if We start perking this along…

Our Leo video (with its one imperfection (if you know not of what We speak, go read yesterday’s e-pissode (damn naked skimmers (or, better yet, watch the video (Jeebus))))) is above, and here is the link with which you may place it on the SitOnMyFaceBook pages of your friends having Leonine birthdays:

In other news, We received SO many responses to Our requests for dates for Our Fringe Festival schedule that We have now booked dates all the way up to and including the 2056 Fringe Festival.  (Where We hear Tribe of Fools will be doing a show entitled Grandpa Gumby Plays Canasta In Depends™.) But just in case you would like to try to bump one of Our dates with a better offer, We are reprinting Our schedule below:

As promised, here are Our preliminary dates of attendance at Fringe Festival shows, in anticipation of the many handsome suitors who will vie to be Our dates at same:

Friday, September 5, 8:00 The WaitStaff Sh!ts The Bed, which We directed and wrote sketches for, at L’Etage.  We will be there that night, barring unforeseen difficulties at the Murder Mystery Factory, and We hope you will be too.  Tickets here:

Monday, September 8, 8:00 Tribe of Fools’ Two Street: A Tale of Star-Crossed Mummers, at The Church of the Crucifixion.  We look forward to Tribe of Fools’ Fringe offering every year more than any other show.  We first saw them in Heavy Metal Dance Fag, then, in last year’s AntiHero, actors actually walked on the walls.  Maybe this year they’ll dance on the ceiling?  Tickets here:

Sunday, September 14, 3:00 Truth Be Told’s Bent, starring OurSistahOvella, at the Power Plant.  Tickets here:

So if you have an overwhelming desire to see any of these shows, (or, more importantly, to date Us (We know you’re out there…We can hear you breathing)), holla at Us. (Note that We have not yet purchased Our tickets for these shows, so these dates are subject to change.  (Especially if We get offers of hotter dates on other dates.  (Or figs…because, mmmmm, figs!)))

Coincidentally, both of those last two productions are currently fundraising, so if you happen to have a mark, a yen, a buck, or a pound with which you know not what to do, you could donate them here:

or here:   ... for Two Street.

(Is it wrong that We are now imagining how it would be so much more convenient for Us (it being, of course, All About Us) if they were (subjunctively) to combine these last two productions into one?  Gay Mummers Go To Dachau has a nice ring to it, no?)

And heeeeerrrre’s the HorrorScope:

In celebrity birthday news, RJ Mitte, who played Walt Junior on Breaking Bad,  is twenty-two today.  So now what, ya has-been?


(Heh.  See what We did there? (Of course you did.  (So did Helen Keller.)))

— but you may as well stand back and let it do what it wants.  (We’re schizophrenic, and so are We.)

(We’ll take “Jokes That Aren’t Funny In The Royal We” for $500, Alex.)

It’s certainly easier, (Not easier than We are, though.)

and you may find that things start to make more sense.  (Nothing makes any sense in a universe where there is a camera that can see farts.)

(Surely you didn’t imagine We were only gonna reference that ONE TIME, did you?)

You don’t like to hold back when you have something to say. (And what makes YOU such a goddamned expert on it, pigfucker?)

In fact, it’s so completely out of character that when you do, your friends start asking what the heck is wrong with you!  (Yeah, right.  If they say “heck”, We are SO not friends any more.)

They’re due to start asking that question soon, because every time a certain subject comes up, you’ve refused to discuss it openly.  (Hey, We know six Joshes, and twenty-eight Michaels.  That’s all you need to know.)

Give up the goods.  (Also, pump up the jam.)

Not feeling great about a recent relationship decision? (Dammit….did We sleep through another relationship?)

Maybe you should rethink your choices.  (Are you saying We should choose to rethink Our choices?  Because that way lies madness…)

If it’s not set in stone, change your mind. (If it’s not Sharon Stone, change your panties.)


It’s important to feel 100 percent sure about the big stuff. (Not to mention the Double Stuf™.  (No, really…don’t mention it!))

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.