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Monday, January 19, 2015

I had a dream, a dream about you, baby

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s!Weekly!Horoscope! for JustAnotherManacledManicuristManiacallyManhandlingManchurianManateesMonday,  January Nineteenst, 2015.

Happy Martin Luther King Day to Juan Anne Dahl.

(Today is not Dr. King’s actual birthday (We Googled it on Wikipedia…his actual birthday was January fifteenst (which is just as well, as, according to Our celebrity birthday website, today is the birthday of Robert E. Lee and Paula Deen.))

Happy Birthday, meanwhile, to Anita Manhattan, who turns twenty-four today right here in The City That Loves You (On Your) Back.   Which would seem to be contradictory, until One realizes that she is named, not after geographilogical Manhattan, but after cocktailistic Manhattan.

Happy Belated Birthday, meanwhile, to Allen, and Augustine, and Christopher, and Deborah, and Donald, and Ed, and John, and Kate, and Madison, and Marc, and Michael, and Natalie, and Rich, and Tina, each of whom turned twenty-four this past week.

We have frequently mentioned, in past e-pissodes, that We have seen a not-insignificant number of Our Gentle Readers in their birthday suits.  Lest you imagine that this is an idle boast, We should like to point out that, of the fifteen people wished a happy natal anniversary above, We have seen no fewer than three of them in the altogether.  That’s TWENTY PERCENT,  people. (And We won’t even get into what it’s equal to in inches. ( Or dog years.))

In other news, since We converted to Eric’s!Weekly!Horoscope!, exactly ONE Gentle Reader has inquired as to Our whereabouts and/or Our well-being. (Thanks, Joe.)  The rest of you may now begin sexting Us birthday suit pix to express your profound regret for neglecting Us.

In other other news, We are directing the classic comedy She Stoops to Conquer (clearly, someone has taken leave of their senses), which will open in April at the historic Powel House, and which is doing an indiegogo fundraiser here:

In other other other news, this just in:

Your sign as a smell:

Aries - vodka
Taurus - grass
Gemini - armpits
Cancer - rain
Leo - new car
Virgo - coffee
Libra - paint
Scorpio - vanilla
Sagittarius – Pringles™
Capricorn - honey
Aquarius - wet rocks
Pisces - fresh laundry

We wouldn’t ordinarily give credence to such a thing, but they have clearly met an Aries or two in their time.  We wonder what “grass” they mean for Taurus, and how exactly Cancer’s “rain” differs from Aquarius’s “wet rocks”. And poor Sagittarius…is it just Us, or do Pringles™ smell exactly like feet? (We would feel sorry for Gemini, but that would depend entirely upon whose armpits We’re talking about.)

As if the preceding hadn’t enriched your lives enough, here’s this: 

“Here is the link with which you may share Our Capricorn video with both of your friends:

(That never happens.)

And here, for your further edification, is Our very first Capricorn video:

Upon reflection, these two videos are amongst Our much more densely-plotted cinematic efforts, due to the fact that Our director actually is a Capricorn (although quite unlike the unseen character from the videos).

We often ponder, in the endless time afforded to Us by the fact that We are almost universally ignored, how many of Our Gentle Readers actually realize that, if viewed in order, Our videos actually have ongoing plots and storylines. 

Moving on, didja know that We have been e-pisstling e-pissodes of these e-pisstles in one form or another since 2001?  And that the earliest dead-tree archival records from 2004 are now TEN YEARS OLD, and can be found (for a small fee) here:  ? 

Thank Gawd We didn’t stray from the point.


In celebrity birthday news other than that mentioned above, it is Logan Lerman’s birthday.   More importantly, were it (subjunctively) not already a holiday, it is Dolly Parton’s birthday as well…perhaps folks should get tomorrow off, too?

This isn’t a good time for sitting back passively and letting things happen (It is Dolly GODDAMN Parton’s birthday…We are sitting back passively and waiting for some muthafuckin’ CAKE.  (We were told there would be cake.))

 — far from it! (What is “it”, and how far from “it” are We?)

You need to make sure that you’re at the forefront of the action and taking care of your most important tasks.  (No, what We NEED is some muthafuckin’ CAKE. )

Your passion for travel is rekindling. (Meanwhile, Our passion for kindling is unraveling.)

(We have no idea what We just said…as a matter of fact, We weren’t even listening.)

(If you’ve got a passion for fashion, and you’ve got a craving for saving, take the wheel of your automobile…)

(Oh, is that jingle stuck in your head now?  Too bad, so sad, anal sex with your dad.)

If you can’t just grab your passport and take off for parts unknown, go ahead and explore your inner space. (Now, that’s just dirty…)

That could include watching a foreign film, (Art films?  NUDIES!)

(I’m Neely O’Hara!)

enjoying a food festival (Or a foot fetish festival.)

or even reading about a place that’s interested you for ages. (So wait…there’s a book about Johnny Depp’s underwear drawer?)

You could also strike up a conversation with someone from a place very far away from your home base. (To say nothing of Our home planet.)

(No, really…say NOTHING.)

You might just be amazed at what you learn. (And wouldn’t that be AMAZING?  Also, Shut. Up. Kelli.)

You might also make a new friend in the process!  (Actually, We prefer Our friends unprocessed and all natural.  And, in many cases, We’re kind of partial to their birthday suits.)

There’s a fine line between honesty and insensitive, and you may have just crossed it! (There’s also a fine line between illiterate and full retard, and that “honesty and insensitive” bit has you so far across it, Kelli, that you can’t even see it in your rearview mirror.  Hire a goddamn proofreader, already.)

Telling someone how you really feel is fine as long as you take their feelings into account. (What if We really feel that We don’t give a shit about their feelings?)

Turn the tables and think how you would react. (Kiss Us quick, We’re Tina Table Turner.)

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.