Ooooooooooh-re-GAH-no…where the wind comes sweeping down the plain…

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s! Daily! Horoscope! for WinesDay, January 8^st, 2013.

Happy Birthday to Vinnie, who turns twenty-four today right here in The City That Loves You (On Your) Back.  Also, Happy Birthday to Harmony, who also turns twenty-four today.  In Oregon.  Where the oregano comes from. (That joke (if We may call it that) only works if you pronounce “oregano” as Glenda Jackson does in A Touch Of Class, i.e. as “ore-eh-GAH-no” rather than “ore-RAY-guh-no”. (Please note that, by “works”, We mean “isn’t the least bit funny, but at least you might not think We’ve completely lost what passes for Our mind”.  (The best jokes are, of course, the ones that have to be explained.)))

Here at Casa du Curmudgeon, We are feeling a little better today. Thanks to those of you who have expressed concern and get-well wishes.  Of course, having been left completely to Our Own devices since New Year’s Eve, We have had plenty of time to contemplate the absence of concern and well-wishes as well, and, in fact, an instance or two in which We seem to have been made use of while it was convenient, then cast aside like an old shoe once Our usefulness had been outlived.

Sigh.

Perhaps, someday, We shall learn.

But probably not.

We shall be off into the cold later today to do the murder mystery.  Speaking of the cold, We have here the definitive “it’s cold outside” video, which trumps all of your “throwing boiling water into the air” videos, in which a very cute boy pees outside in Minnesota.  It is Safe For Work, because (A.) you see the pee, but you do not (unfortunately) see the thing he pees with, and (2.) EVERYTHING that happens in Minnesota is Safe For Work.  Which is one of the reasons We don’t live in Minnesota…

In other news, mark your calendars for this Sunday, January 12 at 8PM and Friday, January 17 at 8PM, in Beautiful Downtown Norristown for the triumphant return of LOOKING FOR URANUS: Starzina Starfish-Browne’s Comeback Tour in Centre Theatre’s Independent Voices Festival!

Tickets are now available at  http://thecentretheater.ticketleap.com/

Also, check out the SitOnOurFaceBook event (https://www.facebook.com/events/259746334150716/ (FYI That is NOT Our mouth in the logo)).

We are also currently in talks regarding appearances in Greater Bostonia; stay tuned for further info as it becomes available.

Our video (Capricorn, for you naked skimmers who aren’t paying attention) is above, and here is the link with which you may share it with your friends:  http://youtu.be/m3Aa_X_HoVM.

On repeat viewing, We must say that that particular video is one of Our favorites.  It has, over time, been somewhat e-clipsed by the artsy-fartsiness of Our French New Wave e-pissode:

…as well as by, naturally, The One With Justin Bieber’s Penis:

(Hmmm…it occurs to Us that, much like Cute Boi Peeing Outside In Minnesota’s penis, One doesn’t so much see Justin Bieber’s penis in that video neither.  No wonder We haven’t gone viral…)

And now, the HorrorScope…

Every Tom’s Dick Is Hairy with a horoscope/birthday blog will be telling you that it is Elvis Presley’s birthday.  But who else will inform you that Larry Storch of F Troop fame is still alive?

Stay active as much as you can — otherwise, you may not be sure that you’re still alive!  (Wait…could We have died, and no one told Us?  Could be…who would tell Us?)

Your energy should lift your mood, (‘Cause he’s a mood operator…(That’ how it sounds when Sade goes full ‘tard.  (This is why you NEVER go full ‘tard.)))

but if you’ve got to spin your wheels much longer, it just can’t last.  (But Our mood got lifted and EVERYTHING…)

 Your family members have a big surprise in store for you — a very big surprise. (Why does that sound like a threat?)

Does that mean you should worry about what’s coming or head for the hills? Certainly not. (We should say not…it is no doubt even colder in The Hills.)

Really, your only option is to hold on tight and ride the ride — which may actually be rather fun. (Define “fun”.)

Oh, and when this all goes down, pretend to be surprised.  (We would be beyond surprised if anyone went down in Our presence.)

Your enthusiasm about dating does a lot of good for your overall romantic outlook. (We don’t see how….We’re enthusiastic about winning PowerBall™ too, and where’s that gotten Us?)

You need some serious positive thinking (We’re positive everything will turn out for the worst…howzzat?)

— especially if you’ve had your heart broken in the last year or so. (Wait…We have a heart?)

If you expect the best, it’s likelier to come to pass.  (And it shall come to pass, like gas out your ass…)

Namaste, MotherFuckers.

In gaseousness,

Starzina Starfish-Browne

(Your Your-O-Scopes:

http://www.humorscope.com)

(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!)

*****************************************************************************

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.

                                                                                                                                     

Gold-FINGAH!

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s! Daily! Horoscope! for CowPieRootiePatootieFreshAndFruityToozDay, January 8rd, 2013. Happy Birthday to Vince, who turns twenty-four today, and who actually knows what Our nickname in high school was.  Fortunately, he’s not telling.  Also, Happy Birthday to Harmony, who also turns twenty-four today, somewhere on The Left Coast.

So We have just been informed that 2013?  Is The Year Of Quinoa.  So how exciting izzat?  We haven’t had an entire year dedicated to a grain product since The Unfortunate Alfalfa Incident Of 1994.

Speaking of Things About Which We Know Nothing, it has also come to Our attention that there was some sort of football contest of some importance, at least to footballians, last night.  Football, OurCousinKelly (not to be confused with Ass(tromalogical) Ho(roscopulist) Kelli-With-An-I-No-Doubt-Dotted-With-A-Star-And-Written-In-Purple-Ink-From-A-Pen-That-Has-Glitter-On-It, whose prognostications We shall be mocking later in the proceedings) informs Us, is the one with the oddly-shaped ball.  Which reminds Us of one of Our exes, although to say any more would be impolite.  And We are never impolite.  Although We did laugh and laugh one time when he caught himself in his zipper.  Because, with balls like that, when he got caught in his zipper, he got CAUGHT in his ZIPPER.

At any rate, to make a long story short (too late), here, courtesy of Blair Whose Half-Naked Self Formerly Decorated These Environs, is A Football Joke.  We don’t understand it, of course, but We would never let that fact keep Us from entertaining Our Gentle Readers:

What do marijuana and Notre Dame have in common?

 They both get smoked in bowls.

Did We mention that it’s The Year Of Quinoa?

In other news, you are all no doubt familiar with that WorldWideInterWebNetzian meme which attempts to portray the inner workings of the minds of cats and dogs.  The cat is all diabolical mastermind, fiendishly plotting the demise of all the other pets in the house, as well as the overthrow of its human overlords, while the dog is all, “Kibble!  That’s my favorite thing ever!  Out for a walk! That’s my favorite thing ever!  Taking a nap! That’s my favorite thing ever! “  Thereby demonstrating why, if We were (subjunctively) ever to own a pet, it would be a dog and not a cat.  (In addition to the fact, of course, that cats are nothing more than overgrown rats, and that We are deathly allergic to them.)  Because what would One want from a pet if not spirit-lifting exuberance and blind devotion?

However, when it comes to human companions, We are deeply suspect of such dog-like behavior.  (Don’t worry…cat continues to be unacceptable as well.)  If everything that happens to you is “the best thing ever”, and nothing ever falls short of “awesome!”, not only will We begin to imagine that you are mentally deficient, We will become convinced that you are incapable of the discrimination required to actually like Us, since you are having the exact same reaction to Us, and the guy next door, and The Hunchback of Notre Dame, and quinoa.

Just sayin’.

Also, see how We tied that all together with those callbacks from previous parts?  But do not attempt this at home…We are, after all, A Highly-Trained Professional.

In random other news, in a fit of something-or-another, We have taken up one of those New Year Pay-It-Forward challenges, for which We still require two more participants; please see Our SitOnOurFaceBook page status, and read the actual instructions. It seems mostly harmless, and yet YouPeople continue resoundingly ignoring it.

Speaking of autistic…er, artistic endeavors, here is how you would share  Starzina’s Time of the Month Horoscopes:Capricorn  video with a friend.  If you are not going to share it, however, please at least refrain from attempting to thwart Our efforts to do so.  KThxBye.:

http://youtu.be/m3Aa_X_HoVM

And here are the HorrorScopes:

It is, you will no doubt have already heard, David Bowie’s birthday today.  Which means, We would imagine, a national holiday, at least in the UK.  It is also Elvis Presley’s birthday, which We are certain means a national holiday on THIS side of the pond.  And, it is Shirley Bassey’s birthday, which doesn’t really mean anything, except that We shall use “Goldfinger” as Our subject line today.

You are at the forefront of something new, bold and exciting  (We don’t know about you, but We’re pretty sure that sentence would be much more “bold” and “exciting” if they took out “forefront” and put in “foreskin”.  We’re just sayin’.)

(You put your foreskin in, you put your foreskin out

You put your foreskin in, and you shake it all about…)

(That just came (heh) to Us.  Sign Us up for THAT game of Hokey-Pokey!)

— so talk it up!  (Also, use random exclamation points!)

You need fellow pioneers (Oh, please.)

to help you explore every inch (Say WUT?)

of this new territory,  (This metaphor is now officially so mixed, it’s like those frozen mixed vegetables you ate as a kid.  You know, corn, peas, carrots, green beans, and Satan’s lima beans, except they all tasted exactly like the box they came in.)

and there are plenty who are willing to help.  (Mmm-hmm.  There’s never any shortage of helpers.)

The best way to challenge yourself is by exploring something new.  (Or nude.  Nude works too.)

Probe (Anally?)

unknown territory (Like Uranus?)

and not only will you really stimulate your brain in a whole new way,  (Honey, if you’re using an anal probe, and it stimulates your brain, you have serious size queen issues.)

you will create a situation where you can really be proud of yourself.  (While it is indeed impressive to be able to fit an entire football team up your tuchis, We’re not exactly sure “proud” is what you will be feeling when you do.)

You could try something that everyone is intimidated by, like skydiving or bungee jumping.   (Wait, wait, wait…there’s already an entire football team up Our tuchis, now you want We should skydive and bungee jump?)

Or you could tackle (Heh.  Isn’t that cute?  Kelli’s trying to go along with Our football callback.  Shut. Up. Kelli.)

a particular activity or thing that has always been something scary just to you.  (Like that Snuggle™ bear on those fabric softener commercials?)

(What?  Like that bear’s NOT possessed by the devil?)

Have a particular phobia?  (Who the hell is afraid of particulars?)

This is the day to try to conquer it.   (Will We be a conquistador then? Inquistadoring Minds want to know.)

Manners count.  (Well, naturally.  When One is putting an entire football team up One’s tuchis, the quarterback goes first.  Then the halfbacks, then the fullbacks.  The center goes last.  Twenty-three skidoo!)

(You’re picturing this now, aren’t you?  Perverts.)

Nonverbal nuances (Way to coin a phrase.  AssHat.)

may be more telling than what comes out of their mouth. (How many people are in a football ensemble, anyway?)

Sit back and observe — you’ll learn a lot about this person and how they feel about you.  (Awesome!  That’s Our favorite advice ever!)

 (Your Your-O-Scopes:

http://www.humorscope.com)

(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://agskylab.blogspot.com/.  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.

                                                                                                                                    

Who ya gonna call?

                                         

(The answer to today’s titular (heh) question, in case you were having a momentary pop cultural lapse (or, for that matter, a momentary pop cultural lap dance, which would, no doubt, be even more distracting (although not, perhaps, as distracting as No Doubt doing a lap dance while singing “Don’t Speak” (or a lhasa apso lapping lapsang souchong (but We digress)))) is “Ghostbusters!”  As in, “Who ya gonna call?  Ghostbusters!”  If you have that song stuck in your head for the rest of the day now, you’re welcome.  We have had it stuck in Our head(s?) since watching Zombieland over the weekend.  (We won’t divulge why, in case you are planning to see that particular cinematic treasure, but haven’t gotten around to it yet.)  It is essentially one joke stretched out for ninety minutes that you’ll never get back, during which, if you are like Us, you will spend most of your time plotting perverse ways in which you would like to s3xually abuse Jesse Eisenberg.  You will, however, end up your evening with the theme form Ghostbusters playing on an endless loop in your head.)

Greetings, Elvis Reappears In Chattanooga---

Here is your horoscope for Monday, November 08, 2010 (We trust you all remembered to turn your clocks back.  We turned Ours back into sundials.  In retrospect, We should have turned them into something with more monetary value.  Like gold ingots. Or Jesse Eisenberg’s @ss cheeks.  At any rate, it now gets dark at 4 o’clock in the afternoon, and We are Not Happy About It.):

(In other news, because We do not already have enough problems with inanimate objects (in addition to being one Our Own Self), Our cellphone has decided that incoming calls can go straight to voice mail, and that it can then neglect to inform Us of their existence.  We discovered this little trick when We realized that, in order to get said phone to acknowledge the time change, We had to turn it off and turn it back on.  Upon turning  it back on, it agreed that it was in act an hour earlier, and informed Us that We had three unheard voice messages.  Which had been received on Thursday and Friday.  This being Sunday morning.  (We should point out, at this juncture, that We have possibly the oldest cellphone still in existence on the planet.  It has a rotary dial.  It still accept nickels instead of dimes or quarters.  Its number is BUtterfield-8.  If the opposite of a SmartPhone is a StupidPhone, Our phone is a ‘TardPhone.  It rides a short phonebus to phoneschool, where all the other phones tease it while it rolls its phoneshit into little phoneshitballs.))

(That said, we think We have gotten in touch with everyone to whom Our phone has caused Us to be rude.  If you haven’t heard from Us, give Us a shout on the WorldWideInterWebNetz.)

(In still other other news, We continue to narrow down Our career aspirations.  We would very much like a jawb in which We sleep.  Or complain.  Or have bizarre dreams. (On the subject of bizarre dreams, We could tell you long involved stories of the convoluted epics that were Our nights’ entertainments this weekend.  However, in the interests of brevity, We shall sum it all up in one sentence: who the h3ll has dreams with Victor Garber in them?))

 (Our-O-Scopes:)

Trying to maintain a happy balance (between Jack Palance and Liberty Valance)

between the personal and the professional (Wait…there’s a professional?  How much does he charge?)

will be a bit more challenging than it usually is. Hey, We love a challenge!  We have a ‘TardPhone.)

Keep in mind that there's really only one way to manage it (Who ya gonna call?)

-- give equal time to both. (Ghostbusters!)

No playing favorites.  (You have heard the story of Our life…does it surprise you that We’re not allowed to play Our favorites?)

You're not feverish or achy. (Well, don’t tell Billy Ray Cyrus.)

(WHO put the “pop” in popculture?  WE put the “pop” in popculture!)

You just know you need to stay home today. (Which makes it different from every other day how?)

Remember how you used to get out of school when you weren't ready for a test?  (No.)

When you least expect it, (Who ya gonna call?)

someone you thought was long gone -- happily so -- could return to harass your career aims once more. (Hmmm…We are thinking that “harass” is perhaps not the verb of choice here. (Now We are thinking how much “harass” looks like “hairy @ss”.  Because We’re funny that way.))

Formulate alternate strategies. (Way to write REALLY dull fortune cookies, Kelli-San.)

 (Your YOUR-O-Scopes:

http://www.humorscope.com )

And the silicon chip inside her head is stuck on overload

Greetings, Echo Repeats Infinite Cantata---


Here is your horoscope for Monday, July 19, 2010 (Happy Monday to all of Our Mondayers who are out there Mondaying. Here’s hoping you don’t keep on Mondaying when Tuesday rolls around. We Our Own Selves Personally had quite a jam-packed, fun-filled weekend, complete with a JAWB, watching the last season of Nip/Tuck, and rehearsing for Christmas In July: Another Surprise Birthday Party For Jesus which is playing on Sunday, July 25th at 7PM at World Café Live and on Wednesday and Thursday, July 28th and 29th at 8PM at L’Etage. On Saturday, after Our jawb, instead of studying Our script We watched the DVD of the show from December. That there is some funny sh1t, as We say in the business. You can get tickets here: http://tickets.worldcafelive.com/eventperformances.asp?evt=3635or here: http://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/117814. If you haven’t gotten them already. And you haven’t. We KNOW. We see you when you’re sleeping, We know when you’re awake, We know who you’ve been sleeping with, so close the drapes for goodness sake.)


(Meanwhile, Our video is not exactly setting the world on fire, virally speaking. We blame YOU.)





)


(Our Our-O-Scope)


Whether or not you intend it, you'll be doing an awful lot of chatting about yourself for the time being. (Oh? We are going to talk about Ourself TO Ourself? Are We trying to bore Ourself to sleep? (Lissen, Micro$oft Weird™, no matter how many times you try to tell Us that “Ourself” isn’t a word, We are going to continue to use it. (Although now that We’ve typed “Ourself” all those times in a row, it’s starting to look more and more like a Muslim middle name.)))


That doesn't mean you're self-centered, egotistical or inordinately wrapped up in your own affairs. (No, it means We’ve finally lost the last shred of what used to pass for Our teeny, tiny mind.)


(Wait…We’re having affairs? More than one?!? We hope We wrote Ali-Ourself Mahmoud a note…)


And if someone doesn't believe it -- well, all they'll have to do is ask you... (That would imply that they are speaking to Us. Unlike, say, the person We saw on the street this weekend who literally ducked into a doorway when he saw Us coming. What did We ever do to YOU, PussyBoy?)


Before you hop on a plane for Vegas in search of the first available chapel you two come across, wait. (No, see…Britney Spears can get married in Vegas, by an Elvis impersonator, and then get divorced the next day. But We? Can’t so much get married in Vegas. Because that would fu(k up the sanctity of marriage.)


Your ordinarily astounding memory has suddenly failed you. (We were going to mention that that had happened, but We forgot.)


All you can remember now is how great things were -- In The Old Days. (These ARE The Old Days. They are days, and We are old. Have a prune roll, Mister Goldstone.)


It's time to move on. (Up? To the East Side? To a DEE-luxe apartment in the sky?)


Forget about bees and honey. (Why the h3ll were We supposed to be thinking about bees and honey in the first place?)


Remember that the nicer -- or, at least, more pleasantly civil -- you are, the easier it is to make them see things your way. (Also, walk softly and carry a big d1ck.)


Any questions? (Yes… how can you mend a broken heart? How can you stop the rain from falling down? How can you stop the sun from shining? What makes the world go round? How can you mend this broken man? How can a loser ever win? (Oh, is that stuck in your head now? Too bad, so sad, @nal s3x with your dad.))


(Your YOUR-O-Scopes):






http://www.humorscope.com




cowgrass…I’m lovin’ it)