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Monday, February 9, 2015

Take me to church

Hello, Ducks!

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

When last We e-pisstlized, Our Martin Luther King Day tree was still up, and We were baking Martin Luther King Day cookies in anticipation of the arrival of Martin Luther King Day carolers at Our front door.

My, how thyme fries when you’re shaving nuns.

(Or should that be “Our, how thyme fries…” ?  Our goodness, it’s been so long between e-pissodes that Our Royal We is getting rusty.)

At any rate, Our thanks to the exactly one Gentle Reader who inquired during Our absence as to whether We had possibly fallen and could not get up.  Thanks, Becky!

Happy Birthday, meanwhile, to Annette, and to John, and to Mike, each of whom turns twenty-four today right here in The City That Loves You (On Your) Back.  

There are so many belated birthdays that We aren’t going to list them all; We shall, rather, wish a Happy Belated Birthday to those hottie bois whom We are picturing in their birthday suits:

Happy Belated Birthday to Shane, Marcus, Brandon, Blake, Alex, Petr, Patrick, Terry, Matt, and Seth, each of whom turned twenty-four somewhere on the planet prior to today and après Martin Luther King Day, and each of whom We are currently picturing in his birthday suit.

(Gentlemen:  if you are blushing at being pictured in your birthday suit, count your blessings that you are not being pictured in these: )

And what have We been doing, you are no doubt wondering, while We have not been deluding Ourself into thinking We are communicating with Our Gentle Readers?  Well, for one thing, We have completed a brand new murder mystery for the murder mystery factory.  Yes, indeed, ladies and genitals, the murder mystery in which We are currently starring has been running for almost a year, and most of you have still not come to see it.  So We shall vainly point out that We will be playing in it on Friday, February 13th and Friday, February 27th, and once or possibly twice in March, before it is closed.  We will not so much be appearing in the new one, so We will stop asking you to come see Us at that point.  You’re welcome.

Speaking of things which you will resoundingly ignore, 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 depnd entirely uipon 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 Aquariums video with both of your friends:

(That never happens.)

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:  ? 

And speaking of Our greatest hits, it occurs to Us that We were in absentia during the Feast of Saint Blaise this year, so, for those who missed Our annual commemoration, herewith a little Blast-O from the Past-O:

But you didn’t come here today to hear Our trials and tribulations, sinking in a gentle pool of whine (pool of whine).  You came because it’s Groundhog Day, all over again, and you know that, on Groundhog Day, all over again, We here at Erix Daily Horoscope have a time-honored tradition of recapping every Groundhog Day in Our written history (Our written history dating back to 2004, despite these horoscopes having actually originated in  2001…but more on that below).

And so, without further ado…crank up The WayBack Machine!

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Wednesday, February 02, 2011.  In the interests of giving my well-manicured nails and my poorly-manicured mind a rest, today at Erix Daily Horoscope, we are going to invoke our time-honoured Groundhog Day tradition of recapping every single Groundhog Day in Erix Daily Horoscope written history.  You will note that, in Erix Daily Horoscope: The Early Years, we mistakenly believed that Groundhog Day and The Feast Of Saint Blaise were one and the same; turns out, The Feast Of Saint Blaise is February THIRD.  Ha.  Also, you will note that, on this date in 2004, we referenced the Janet Jackson/Justin Timberlake Super Bowl Nipplegate Incident, being, as we are, always on the cutting edge of pop culture.  Oh, and: Justin Timberlake’s penis.  Not that that has anything to do with anything, I just wanted to think about it for a moment. 

And now, hold on to your Andie MacDowells,  ‘cause here we goooooooo….

Greetings, Eerily Repeating Identical Chronicles---

Here is your horoscope for Tuesday, February 02, 2010 (Oddly enough, one of Eric’s Daily Horoscope’s most memorable holidays through its torrid, turgid history has been Groundhog Day, which, it seems, has happened over and over again. As a treat for Our longtime readers, and to imbue Our new readers with a sense of the history and gravitas (gesundheit (thank you)) that surrounds the efforts of Your Humble Scribe, We herewith present every Groundhog Day Eric’s Daily Horoscope intro in written history, all the way back to 2004. (Long-time readers (at least those who have yet to be confined to complete bedrest in old-age homes) will note that Eric’s Daily Horoscope actually dates back, as We are fond of reporting to “Since 2001”. Unfortunately, the first three years were presented in cave paintings, which have long since been urinated away by woolly mammoths. Too bad, so sad, @nal s3x with your dad.)) :

**************(Way-Back Machine sound effects)******************************

Greetings, Eels Reel Ideal Creel---

Here is your horoscope for Monday, February 02, 2009 (Apparently, it is not bad enough that it is Monday morning. No, the EAC has decided that there should be further fu(kwittery thrown into Our day, and, consequently, they have put a hex on the WorldWideInterWebNetz which has rendered Our inaccessible. Thus, We are forced to listen to RadioFreeCleveland, where they spent the morning interviewing some band called the WMDs and bleeping the word “ho” out of the “don’t trust a ho” line in 3OH!3’s song “Don’t Trust Me”. (Seriously…We are NOT making that up. Bleeped it, they did. Hos, apparently, are unacceptable in Ohio. Hostess Ho-Hos™ are a no-no. What the h3ll Santa Claus says when he laughs there is beyond Us.)):

(On the plus side, shortly after We tuned into RadioFreeCleveland, they took Us live to Punxsutawney for the annual Groundhog Day festivities. (Really…they did. We are not making THIS up, either. (Is Our life glamorous, or what? (WHO said, “Or what”?))) We are pretty sure We’ve never actually heard a live report from the very shadow-seeing moment of this auspicious occasion. Because, if We had, We would certainly have remembered that it takes place on something called Gobblers Knob, which We have immediately adopted to be Our new p0rn name.)

(In case you’re even remotely interested, the smelly little rodent saw his fu(king shadow, thus ensuring Us six more weeks of winter.)

Greetings, Exaggerated Response Includes Colloquialism---

Here is your horoscope for Friday, February 1, 2008 (Oh, see, now. Six hundred and eleventy-twelve days of January and, just when it would be a REALLY good time for, say, a May, or a June, what do We get? Fu(king February. Home of Groundhog Day. Over and over again. Not to mention the dreaded V.D. And Presidents Day, just to remind us all how very desperately we need a new one. With a BRAIN, maybe, this time. (Apparently, this has to be specified in advance. Who knew?)):

Greetings, Elastic Really Impedes Circulation—

Here is your horoscope for Friday, February 02, 2007 (Well, well, well. Look at that. Groundhog Day, all over again. Also, happy birthday to Christine, who turns twenty-four today. (And who, I fear, has completely fallen off this hallowed list…Charley, are you still here? Do you have contact info for Christine?) Also, it strikes me that it is also someone else’s birthday, but, as I haven’t my datebook with me, I have no idea whose. (Hey, I can’t do EVERYTHING. D@mmit.) (Also, since when is “datebook” not a word?) But happy birthday, whoever you are, and I’m sure you’re turning twenty-four.):

Greetings, Eels Repulse Iguana Collectors—

Here is your horoscope for Thursday, February 02, 2006 (So many holidays, so little hilarity. Ensuing or otherwise. Happy Groundhog Day (again (see what I did there?)); did the little p3cker see his shadow or what? Happy Feast of Saint Blaise, clearly an excellent day to deep-thr0at a Catholic priest and earn another star on your crown in Heaven. Happy birthday to Christine, who turns 24 today. Happy first day of the new SURVIVOR. Oh, and Happy Black History Month; it was pointed out to me yesterday by my granddaughter (Hi, Mo’Niques!) that I had neglected to mention that it was Black History Month (well, actually, “Munf”). And if there’s one thing We love here at Eric’s Daily Horoscope, it’s Our Black History. Or, as We like to call it, The Cottonpickin’ Chronicles. (Oooops…I’d better bl0w TWO priests, or I’m goin’ straight to h3ll.)) :

Greetings, Eric—

Here is your horoscope for Wednesday, February 02, 2005 (Happy Hump Day! Also, Happy Feast of Saint Blaise! (Although if I were gonna pick a body part that could use some blessing, I’m thinkin’ it wouldn’t be my throat. If you know what I mean. And I think you do.) Also, Happy Groundhog Day! (Of course, around here, EVERY day is Groundhog Day, but maybe that’s just me.) Also, Happy Birthday to Christine, who turns 24 today! Day-um, that’s a whole lotta Happy, all in one Day! And a whole lotta exclamation points! Also known, for the trivia-minded among you, as “interrobangs”! Which I’m just gonna go right ahead and make the Word of the Day! Because it sounds dirty! But it isn’t! Say it with me! “Interrobang!” See! That was fun!):

Tuesday, February 3, 2004:

(Happy birthday to Christine. Also Happy Groundhog Day. And Happy Feast of Saint Blaise. Whose name doesn't sound so much like a saint as it does a p0rn star, but whatever. Happy, happy, happy.)

(Okay, so I did some research. A football game is sixty minutes long, divided into four quarters of fifteen minutes each. How, then, is it possible that ONE football game was on my television for FIVE HOURS???)

(Dear Mister Timberlake: The move you were attempting was actually originated by Mister Mick Jagger in 1985 when he ripped off the skirt of Miss Tina Turner at Live Aid. Of course, Mister Jagger being a highly trained professional, his execution of the move did not result in a display of the aforementioned Miss Turner's c00ter, or any of her other private parts. Also, Miss Turner was not old enough to be Mister Jagger's mother. Because you were no doubt not born yet at the time, it is unlikely that you will recall that neither Mister Jagger nor Miss Turner made any sort of apology or explanation for the incident. Oh, and "wardrobe malfunction"? No str8 boi would ever say that. I'd being firing your PR people at once if I were you. Truly, Tipsy.)

(Dear Miss Jackson: Yes, you ARE nasty. Please go away, and take the rest of the tragic mess you call a family with you. Oh, and if it was such a shocking unplanned incident, WHY WERE YOU WEARING A PASTY? Truly, Tipsy.)

(Oh, I'm were expecting a horoscope, and you got Andy Rooney. Oh, well; it sux to be you. Here's that 'scope thingie...)

**************(Way-Back Machine sound effects in reverse)************

(Aaaaannnd We’re back to 2010. Wasn’t that a festive little tiptoe through the tulips of history? Happy birthday to Christine, who turns twenty-four today. We hear tell that she has moved to suburbia, had a baby, and married a Republican, although most likely not in that order. We shall have to make an effort to get back in touch…perhaps she would like to hire a poolboy. At any rate, We trust that you have all ordered your Lunette™ Menstrual Cups (and, if not, please see yesterday’s Epistle to the Rich Corinthian Leathermen at (We are nothing if not self-referential)), and so, on with Our-O-Scope…)

(AAAAAaaaannnndddd we’re back to 2011…wasn’t that FUN, boys and girls?)

Today is perfect for making plans.  (Well, you know what They say about the best-laid plans of mice and men.  Although one has to wonder just what sort of plans They think mice make.  Seriously…when’s the last time you heard of a mouse making dinner reservations?  Or buying tickets to a musical?  (Cats, for instance?)  The whole point of mice is that they just sort of spontaneously show up, usually where they’re not wanted.  Where are all these “plans”, then?)

Your mental state (Oh, please.  I live in the only state in the Union whose biggest celebrity is a half-blind rodent who appears once a year.  How mental is THAT?)

is just right for holding plenty of dates at the same time, (My mental state could barely hold a fig.  (Get it?  Dates…figs…oh, sod off, wanker.))

and you should find that you’re better able to convince others to follow your vision.  (That’s all I need, is to start have viZZZions.  Himself already has crystal balls.  (No, seriously.  Listen closely the next time he walks into a room.))

(That was mean, wunnit?  Sorry.  I’m just delirious with joy that the groundhog saw Rachel Maddow, and now we’re getting an early Spring.)

(Speaking of lesbians, we watched The Kids Are Alright last night, and I must say, I totally do not get the appeal of Mark Ruffalo Rufallo Ruffallo Whatever.  All things considered, I’d rather do Julianne Moore.  Or Annette Bening, for that matter.)

Follow any urge you have to seek alone time right now. (Hey, I spend my evenings watching movies about lesbians.  It’s not like I need to “seek” alone time.)

Even if everyone else is in the mood to paint the town red (Is it just me, or does the saying “paint the town red” always make you imagine a LOT of work?  Since when is painting considered a good time?  No matter how long I live here, I will never understand you Yanks and your wacky, zany, madcap sayings.)

or plan an elaborate outing, (See?  When you hear “elaborate outing”, I am betting that mice are not the first thing that comes to your mind.  Little mouse tuxedo rental shops, and whatnot.  Calling the florist for a little mousie corsage. Little lady mice in mink stoles…talk about “fur is murder”!  That would be like wearing one of your relatives…like me gadding about in my Great-Aunt Fanny’s wooden leg and merkin.)

(I shall pause here, whilst the uninformed amongst you go and Google “merkin” on Wikipedia.  Trust me, you’re in for a treat.)

(Are you back?  Good…going on…)

you don’t necessarily need to join in. (Oh, great.  So the mice will be playing reindeer games with me.)

(Is it just me, or is it a fu(king zoo in here today?)

Listen to what your heart is telling you to do, then do it. (Lovely.  First, viZZZions, and now my organs are speaking to me.  Can involuntary commitment be far behind?)

Yes, it sounds too simple to work, (“Too Simple To Work” was Himself’s nickname in high school.)

but it isn’t. (No, ‘t’ain’t.)

(Heh. She said “taint”.)

 Opposites attract, but you want someone as strong-willed and hot as you are. (Mmm-hmm.  My current requirements are a penis and a pulse.  (Candy-coated popcorn, penis, and a pulse…that’s what you get in Crackerjack™!))

Thank Gawd We didn’t stray from the point.

In celebrity birthday news , speaking of birthday suits, David Gallagher,  Avan Jogia, and Jimmy Bennett all have birthdays today.  And birthday suits.

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.