Tuesday, October 21, 2014

There goes the chair…






Hello, Ducks!




Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s! Daily! Horoscope! for GoodPieRupeeTuesday,  October TwennyOnethst, 2014.



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



And Happy Birthday to Jason, who also turns twenty-four today, somewhere across the bridge in Jew Nersey.



Our celebrity birthday website is confusing Us today by insisting that it is the birthday of some Kardashian.  As far as We know, the Kardashian is the monetary unit of Kazakhstan, so what it’s doing with a birthday is beyond Us.



In other news, last night We had one of those dreams that was so complexicated and detail-laden that it woke Us up, whereupon We lay awake, still trying to figger out the dream’s conundrum, which was completely irrelevant to real life.  If Our head had a USB port, We could run Our Own cable network.




Meanwhile, Our Libra video is above, and here is the link with which you may share it with both of your friends:  http://youtu.be/I-sVEr84fyk?list=UUtq4ffsQ_xGu4T5NSA2HfaQ





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And heeeeerrrre’s the HorrorScope:



In ACTUAL celebrity birthday news, Joyce Randolph (Trixie Norton of The Honeymooners fame) is ninety today.



We were somewhat taken aback that no one responded to Our offer yesterday…perhaps it is just taking you a while to get your self-addressed self-stamped envelopes together, or perhaps the Pony Express is less express-esque where you are, but, I case you missed it, here it is again:



For you whore fans, send a self-addressed self-stamped envelope for your very own printed list of “Things Starzina Will Do For A Dollar”.




This is not a good time to openly criticize people or programs, even if they sorely deserve it.  (This is, without  a doubt, the most moronic thing you’ve said in quite some time, Kelli.  Also, you are ugly, and stupid, and your mother dresses you funny.)



(Heh.  See what We did there?)



Hold on to your thoughts for just one more day (Are you kidding?  We would need a thoughts laxative.  Or maybe a thoughts enema.)




and things should make a lot more sense.  (But, if not, at least We’ve just made a poop joke.  And what’s funnier than poop?  (Hint: the answer is pooping nuns.))




It’s going to be an interesting day,  (Compared to what?)




complete with the possibility of a visit from the green-eyed monster. (Trick –or-treating so early?  How gauche.)




 And when it comes along, you really shouldn’t blame yourself.  (As with any such situation, the first priority is to find an appropriate scapegoat.)




Jealousy is in the air. (Of course, you’re not likely to notice it, what with all these nuns pooping.)




Doesn’t mean you actually did anything to inspire it, much less that you’re responsible for its arrival.  (Plausible Deniability…it’s not just for breakfast any more.)




Your only defense is to be honest, stand your ground and try to explain what happened.  (WhatHadHappenedWas…)




Make your health your main focus for the next few days.  (Honey, We have three murder mysteries in the next four days.  Also, We are still trying to cast the damn murder mystery for November 1.  Our health isn’t even in the rearview mirror.) 



                                                                                                                                                                                                                                
(Speaking of November 1, We still need one actor.  It is a well-paid gig, with almost no rehearsal.  You could do it as a one-shot, or become part of the troupe, working according to your schedule.  Get at Us if you’re free for more details.)



Kick your exercise routine up a notch,  (That sounds like it might involve getting off the couch.  Screw THAT noise!)





and pay extra attention to your diet.  (We ate a meatball off the floor right over there…)




With all the good things that are coming your way, you want to have the stamina to enjoy them!  (Could you pass the gravy?  This stamina is a little dry…)





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.


                                                                                                                                     

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