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Friday, August 8, 2014

I wish they all could be California girls






Hello, Ducks!




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



August Eightst already?  Whoever woulda thunkit.  June and July certainly did disappear in the blink of an eye…you don’t see January and February going away that quickly, do ya?




Happy birthday to TCBITWWW, who turns twenty-four today all the way out on The Left Coast, in WeHo, El Lay.  Where birthday cakes are made of avocado frosted with sunshine, and the celebratory birthday cocktail is a Vodka And Juice Cleanse.




Happy birthday also to Kevin, who also turns twenty-four today, right here in The City That Loves You (On Your) Back. 



Happy birthday also to Nicholas, who also turns twenty-four today, somewhere, at least, in the same state as We are.  (By “the same state as We are”, We mean Pennsylvania, not the merry-go-round of Confusion, Denial, and Consternation which is Our sad, sad mental state.)



And last but not Lee Strasberg, happy belated birthday to Ariel, who turned twenty-four yesterday, while We were In Absentia. Drinking absinthe.



Abyssinia…in all the old familiar places…



Oh, shut up.



In Our trials, tribulations, travels, and travails across the sweeping plains of the WorldWideInterWebNetz, We encounter many and varied sites of varying degrees of interest.  Yesterday, We ran across a site on the subject of Women’s Fitness, with instructions on “How To Do A Dumbbell Snatch Squat”.



How to what now?



Is it just Us, or is that one of those almost-English sentences where One cannot quite tell a noun from a verb?



In other news, lettuce imagine, in the space that follows this paragraph, a big ol’ screed in which We complain about all the things We have to complain about.  Of which, there are so many, that We don’t have time to properly complain about them all.  Which, you may notice, is another complaint.  BEGIN:

























…and SCENE.




(Seriously, though…not ONE picture of a Gentle Gentleman Readers nuts?  Are your nuts THAT identifiable on their own?  Whaddaya have, your name tattooed on ‘em?)



In other other news, We have moved into the sign of Leo, which contains, amongst other things, the highest percentage of sexxxy-assz mens in the zodiac.  Our Leo video is above, and here is the link with which you may Cher it with your friends: http://youtu.be/6kCzNp1JtDo



Cher and Cher alike.



Also, Cher and Sherilyn Fenn.



Now, if you’ll excuse Us, We need to go celebrate Rory Calhoun’s birthday.  Rory Calhoun was a movie star.  We are fairly certain that We have never seen a Rory Calhoun fillum, but We have decided that “Rory Calhoun” is the quintessential movie star name by which all other movie star names pale in comparison.  (Take THAT, Zasu Pitts.)




Here, in lieu of call-and-response with AssHatted Ass(tromalogical) Ho(roscopulist) Kelli, is a reading from Madame Olivia:



Greetings Starzina ~

It is very good to see you again.

Madame Olivia wonders if like most of us, you notice that We did this exact same thing in Our last e-pissode, and, since Madame Olivia only sends Us readings once a week, We’re doing it again.  But We suspect that the likelihood that any of you are actually reading this is about equal to the likelihood that any of you will send Us pictures of your nuts, so what possible difference does it make?
Actually, We’re not even sure how many times We’ve done this now (the preceding paragraph first went unremarked last week), so We’re fairly certain at this juncture that We could just hire ten thousand monkeys with ten thousand typewriters and be done with it.
The first Gentle Gentleman Reader who send Us a picture of one or more of his nuts with the caption, “What the hell is a typewriter?” will win a prize.

Circles and round things will be of import in the near future

Madame Olivia wishes you the best of the best until we meet again.


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:  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!)

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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.