And MacHeath has got a knife, but not in such an obvious place…

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s! Daily! Horoscope! for JustAnotherManiacShe’sAManiacOnTheFloorAndShe’sDancingLikeSheNeverDancedBefore…Sorry…ManicMonday, April 28^rd , 2014.

Happy Birthday to Anne, who turns twenty-four today in Al-t-t-toonaTown.  

Happy Birthday also to Greg, who also turns twenty-four today, in FairBrooklynThePrideOfTheThornInTheSideOfNewYork.

Happy Belated Birthday, meanwhile, to Christina and Dena, Israel and Letta, and Raechal and OurAmericanCousin Roxane, each of whom turned twenty-four this past weekend in such disparate locations as MaryLand and Virginia, Greater Bostonia and The City Of Brotherly Love Handles, and Jew Nersey and Fran Sancisco, where We hear it’s lovely, but where We also hear that they think Rice-A-Roni™ is a treat.

We would have a little contest to see who could most quickly and correctly match the belated birthday boyz and gurlz with their correct geographic locations, but then We would most likely realize how very few people are paying any attention to Us whatsoever.

For those of you who enjoy Stories In Which We Are Tortured (which is all of you, yes?), We would like to point out that Our next-door neighbor’s kitchen renovation continues apace, for the four hundred and elebenty-twelve-billionth week in a row, with all of the attendant hammering, drilling, and whatnot One could possibly wish to enjoy with One’s morning coffee.  (Said “whatnot” includes, but is not limited to, outbursts of language which would make Us blush (if We were not already a cunning linguist Our Own Self.))

In other news, We are awaiting with bated breath (because We are nothing if not a master breath-bater) the arrival of Our birthday gift of tickets to see Hedwig and the Angry Inch starring Neil Patrick Harris and Lotte Lenya…

In still other news, please Save The Dates for Thursday, May 8^th, for the next installment of The Walker and O’Dare Radio Mystery Hour at the Powel House, and Saturday, May 10^th, as the WaitStaff will be playing The Mother of All Match Games at L’Etage.  More on that story as it develops, but inside sources tell Us that Jesus H. Christ’s celebrity chair will be taken by His Mother, Mrs. Mary MotherOfGod! You won’t want to miss THAT!

We suddenly find Ourselves (not that We were looking for Us, but it’s a figger of speech) in the sign of Taurus, Our video for which is above, and here is the link with which you may share it with your friends:

http://youtu.be/iGNw4zF7MSs

Also, for those of you who like cups of tea, and history, and someone in a tree, here is Our previous Taurus video, which is somewhat of a fillum noir, if you will. (Or even if you won’t…since when is it all about you?):

And here’s the HorrorScope:

In celebrity birthday news, it is the birthday of some lovely specimen named Drew Seeley, of whom We have (much like what’s-his-pecs on Friday) never heard.  However, some crafty Googling on Wikipedia has enabled Us to pinpoint the onset of Our disconnect with current pop culture to Our complete ignorance of the entire High School Musical series.  Said ignorance, We hasten to assure you, seems destined to continue unabated, despite the existence in The Universe of Zac Efron’s (circumcised) penis.

In non-penis-related celebrity birthday news, this past weekend marked the birthday of Jack Klugman, which We bring up as an excuse to say, “Hi, Sharon!”

You’re exploring new territory today (Are We spelunking?  Because that sounds like more fun.  (Although “spelunkers have more fun” sounds like a terrible slogan.))

— maybe in the company of coworkers, maybe on your own entirely. (Oh, please.  Do you even need to ask?  We have no cow orkers.  All of Our cows are, sadly, unorked.)

The terrific energy that courses through you as you make discoveries is its own reward!  (Well, it’ll have to be, won’t it?  It’s not like any other rewards are coming along any time soon…)

The ball is totally in your court, (Just the one? Where’s the other one?)

 and you could be nearing the end of the game.  (Well, there’s a cheerful thought.)

Give it your all (Yeah, ya know, We try that…and still We wind up screwed.  Meanwhile, however, much like Ashton Kutcher’s The Butterfly Effect, the fact that We just got screwed has caused Us to refrain from doing A Nice Thing We were gonna do, and…JEEBUS CRIPES, STOP THAT INCESSANT DRILLING, OR WE’RE GONNA COME OVER THERE!)

— holding back now just confuses your teammates and might give your opponents just the opening they’re waiting for.  (Wait…Our opponents are waiting for Our opening?  Since when?)

You don’t want to do that, (Or much of anything else, neither.)

especially when the prize is just within your reach. (That’s whatcha get in CrackerJacks™.)

(What?)

 Most of all, you deserve it — a fact that competitors have to acknowledge.  (So are people who compete on the InterNetz dot.competitors?)

(Sorry.)

Keep up the good work!  (Kiss Our assets!  Also,  Our grits!)

 You know what? (Chicken butt.)

 Things are always, always greener, (It’s not easy being greener.)   

                            

so don’t make a wish. (Ice cream…is a dish…Moss Hart makes…)       

It might come true. (And We wouldn’t want THAT, now would We?)     

Avoid spending too much time lamenting your single status (But We are such a good lamenter…)

 — it’s really a blessing in disguise. (So it looks like a fucking curse, then?)

(Heh…see what We did there?)

You don’t realize it, but you’re the envy of all your attached friends.  (Well, sure.  If, by “attached friends”, you mean “conjoined twins”.)

Revel in it, baby!  (Oh, shut up.)

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.

                                                                                                                                     

There was something in the air that night, the stars were bright, Fernando

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Faberge, April 27, 2012. (Faberge is, of course, French for “Friday”.  (That’s not true. (We’re assuming (thereby making an ass out of you and Uma Thurman) you knew that.) Although it may be Pig French.  (You know, like Pig Latin.  Does Pig French even exist?  We would guess that it doesn’t, as all of their words already end in –ay, but then and again, We’ve met a few Frenchmen…)))

Before We mercifully change the subject and put you out of your misery (and into the cock-a-doodie car, Mister Man (heh…didn’t see THAT coming, didja?)), here, as a courtesy to Our Religious Readers (as opposed to  Our Readers who read Us religiously, which is an entirely different concept), is the entire Bible, in Pig Latin: http://www.museumofconceptualart.com/ible-bay.html  Because One can, apparently, find absolutely anything on the WorldWideInterWebNetz.

Happy birthday to Dena, who turns twenty-four today in MaryLand.  (WHO said they thought THIS was “MaryLand”?)  Also, happy birthday to Israel (the person, not the country) who also turns twenty-four today, in THIS country, but on The Other Coast.  In San Francisco.  Speaking of MaryLand.  Here is a link to their Starzina’s Time of the Month Horoscope: Taurus: which you can use to share it with your very own personal Taurean friends: http://youtu.be/KlqQw4TppqY

Additionally, Happy Arbor Day to the rest of you.  Except those of you in Greater Bostonia, whom We wish Happy AhBah Day.  Which, We now notice, is only a few vowels shy of Happy ABBA Day.  Which sounds like a much funner holiday.  Trees being all nice and all, but unable to make One dance.

Have you noticed lately that instant gratification takes too long?

Meanwhile, the winner of yesterday’s audience participation contest was OurMizDonna, who, in response to “Charming is your middle name”, riposted, “And Charmin™ is yours”.

Also also, stay tuned to this space for A Very Important Imminent Announcement concerning everyone’s favorite sketch comedy troupe, the WaitStaff.

And, because its brilliance cannot be overstated, Our new motto:  Uranus is Our Rosebud.

And now, the HorrorScope:

(Okay, not only Arbor Day, Ahbah Day, and ABBA Day…but also Jessica Alba’s birthday, and thus Alba Day?  (Are We still relevant if We’re only accidentally relevant?))

You start something rolling that really takes off — and it could be a big coup for you!  (Okay, that is either a reference to the aforementioned WaitStaff project, or a really intricate fat joke.)

See if you can find a way to launch your latest scheme with the help of those closest to you.  (The WaitStaff project?)

Your outer self and inner self will not be in sync today, but you can overcome the disparity if you take things slowly. (The fat joke?)

(The suspenders are killing Us.)

(Heh.  See what We did there?)

The good news is, you’ll probably be looking fantastic. (So either it’s NOT the fat joke, or Kelli is a chubby chaser.)

The bad news is, you probably won’t be feeling fantastic. (On ABBA Day?  Don’t you believe it.)

Give yourself extra time in the morning (How?  By stealing it from the afternoon?)

— sleep in a little bit if you can — and try to get challenging tasks out of the way as early as possible. (We did that yesterday.  Ordered a new battery for Our cell phone, We did.  Our cell phone, which is currently permanently affixed to an electrical outlet next to the couch.  Thus making it the world’s most inconvenient landline.  Sigh.)

Set aside the afternoon for relaxation, (Ommmmmmmm….)

and give yourself time to get back to normal.  (Yeah.  Good luck with that.)

Eyes are the window to the soul  (And Uranus is the window to the rectum. (Rectum?  We nearly KILLED ‘em.))

— and now more than ever, this is totally apparent. (But not, for all of Our Hayley Mills Fan Readers, A Parent Trap.)

(No, We don’t have any idea what We’re talking about.  Why do you ask?)

So whenever possible, connect visually. (Don’t you mean viZZZually?)

Wink, stare, gaze or arch the brow.  (Is it just Us, or does that sound exhausting?)

Let the exchange of mutual admiration begin.  (Lettuce hope that “exchange of mutual admiration” is a euphemism.  And lettuce hope that there are bodily fluids involved.)

 (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.

If you’re crackin’ up from having lack of shackin’ up…

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Wednesday, April 27, 2011.  Happy birthday to Israel (the person, not the country) who turns twenty-four today.  Also, happy birthday to Dena, who turns twenty-four today somewhere in the vicinity of Our Nation’s Capital.  No doubt with a birth certificate and everything.  (Up yours, Donald Trump…like anybody who’s stupid enough to let a casino…A CASINO!...go bankrupt should be allowed to run a country.  (Do you ever suspect that some of these Repugnicant shenanigantics are just to make The Whore From Wasila look smart by comparison?  FAIL!))  Also, Happy Hump Day to the rest of you, who are no doubt humping away without Us somewhere.  And, in honor of the Royal Wedding, We bring you yet another Erix Daily Horoscope Pixture Du Jour Au Jus Luke Streetwalker Hand Solo Princess Come-On-I-Wanna-Lay-Ya of an alternative yet clearly blissfully happy couple, who double as a shout-out to Our Faithful Readers who are also fans of those Battle Star Trek Wars Lost In Intergalactical Space thingies. We bet THIS pixture wasn’t amongst the bubblegum cards you collected back in the day.

Speaking of the royal wedding (and aren’t your nether regions just starting to tingle as it draws ever nearer?  We know Ours are.  Thank god for broad-spectrum antibiotics), here’s this, which is, oddly, Safe For Work (whatever THAT is): http://katemiddletonforthewin.tumblr.com/

Welcome, meanwhile, to Our 13th Google Reader Follower, Raechal.  We have gone form having twelve apostles to having a coven.  Somehow, that seems fitting.  Unlike most of Our wardrobe.

We started Our day here at Casa de Chamberpot with a power outage, which, although brief, was ill-timed in that it interrupted a particularly lewd dream that Himself was having.  He, of course, promptly went back to sleep, leaving Us to reprogram every electrical device known to man, woman, and Manfred Mann.

Meanwhile, Micro$oft Weird™, you need to acknowledge that “chamberpot” is in fact a word, or We shall come to your house and poop on your sheets.

Having said that, there’s clearly nowhere else to go but up, so herewith the HorrorScope:

Try not to tackle any new business today (How about monkey business?  Can We tackle some monkey business?)

— things are going fine, better than you know, (Ignorance is blistered.)

but you are stretched more thinly than you realize. (Honey, We are not doing ANYTHING “thinly”.)

Step up and take care of whatever you’ve got going on right now.  (Wasn’t it just yesterday that you were telling Us that We had people for that?)

 Today, don’t feel an iota of guilt if you want to ignore the outside world. (What about a scintilla of guilt?  A smidgen?  A jot? A whit?  A soupcon?)

(Some of the jokes are for YOU; some of the jokes are for US…pee porridge in a pot, nine dazed Olds.)

Let your phone ring off the hook, (And put your chamberpot in your 8-track tape player, next to the BetaMax™ and your buttonhook and buggywhip collections.  Forsooth, odds bodkins, and what the fu(k are you talking about?)

and don’t stress out about the contents of your email inbox. (But Ed McMahon told Us We may already be a Winner.  And he should know, being, ya know, dead, and all.)

You are important, (Oh, you have NO idea.  Don’t you know who We think We are?)

but the folks in your daily life can get along without you for just one day. (Alternatively, they could work really hard to make sure that We feel like something stuck to the bottom of their shoe.  Which one do YOU think they’ll do?)

It’s time to step back from constant interaction. (Also from instant contractions.  Whatever that means.)

Do you really need to have your cell phone turned on all day? (Do you really need to keep using precious oxygen that’s meant for the rest of Us?)

Make yourself incommunicado for at least a couple of hours. (We would, but Thai food doesn’t agree with Us.)

(Some of the jokes, meanwhile, are existential.  Why did the chicken cross the road?  Strawberry.)

You’ll feel amazingly free.  (That’s what they said when We burned Our bra.  Of course, they neglected to mention that We should take it OFF first.)

Karma is tricky, yet rewarding. (Caramel, on the other hand, is sticky yet rewarding.  And yet, oddly, We rarely get the two confused. You?)

Your actions now could directly affect someone later. (Well, that’s good.  Otherwise, what would be the point?)

Keep that temper in check (We are now imagining a jawb as Temper Check Girl, much akin to Hat Check Girls of old.  The comic possibilities of same being severely limited, We shall now move on.)

and put out positive energy by doing good deeds for anyone who comes your way.  (Oh, We gotcher “good deed” right HERE.)

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

(Your YOUR-O-Scopes:

http://www.humorscope.com )

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.

If you take a walk (walk), I’ll tax your feet

Greetings, Expressive Repression Impresses Contessa---


Here is your horoscope for Monday, July 12, 2010 (Happy birthday to Kathleen, who turns twenty-four today. And happy birthday (again) to MaryPat, who turned twenty-four over the weekend. Speaking of weekends (not, mind you, squeaking of pique ends (who the h3ll said that?)), We trust all y’all had a lovely one. We Our Own Selves Personally spent Ours…We were going to say “hobnobbing”, but then We realized how very vulgar that sounds. Then We Googled its etymology on Wikipedia and discovered that it’s really not vulgar at all. And now, We’re so disappointed that We’re STILL not gonna say it.) :


(What the fu(k were We talking about? Oh, yes…Our weekend. We saw Ticked-Off Trannies With Knives. Twice. (“Twice” is how many times We saw it, not some bizarre indication of a sequel. (And, while there may well BE a sequel, We suspect they will not call it Ticked-Off Trannies With Knives Twice. Because that? Would just be stupid.)) Needless to say (and yet here We go, saying it anyway), the lovely and talented Willam Belli remains both (A.) lovely and (2.) talented. And you may add director Israel Luna to the list of men We would cheerfully allow to tell Us what to do. If you know what We mean. And We think you do.)


(At any rate, We are tickled pink (and pickled, Tink (STOP that!)) to report that Willam’s fillum has inked a deal for theatrical release and a DVD. So very soon all y’all will be able to enjoy it.)


(Of course, lest you think Our weekend was entirely pleasant, lettuce tell you about Our trials and tribulations with the gummint. Long-time readers may recall that, when We bought OurHouseWhereWeLive, We decided that We should have that year’s taxes done by highly-trained professionals instead of by Our Very Own Self and Our abacus. So off We trundled to an industry leader in tax-doing highly-trained professionalism which We shall herein refer to, for legal reasons, as “R and H Cock”. Now, We should have been suspicious when We discovered that the “highly-trained professional” to whom We were assigned was actually Moms Mabley (We will pause here while you youngsters go Google her on Wikipedia). We should have been even MORE suspicious when We had to explain to Moms how to use the computer on which she was doing said taxes (no, SERIOUSLY…as in “Now that you’ve finished entering that figure, you’re gonna wanna use the “Tab” key to take you to the next box…”). So it should have come as no surprise to Us on Friday to receive a letter from the IRS citing irregularities in Our tax return, and politely requesting several thousand dollars. Because, you know, We didn’t have quite enough to worry about in Our life just now. GAH!)


(In still other news, here’s a little video We made. Please share it with your friends. (No, really. We’re not sure why We need to tell you that, but PLEASE. Share. It. With. Your. Friends.)





)


(Our Our-O-Scope)


Pretend you're network TV and you've just decided to institute a five-second delay before allowing anything live to air. (How ‘bout We pretend We’re CABLE TV, and We can say whatever the fu(k We want.)


It won't be comfortable, and you won't enjoy it. (That, as they say, is what she said.)


But for the sake of propriety (Not to mention the opaque of sobriety (will you PLEASE stop that?))


and the loyalty of your more discreet fans, (Wait…We have fans?!? They must be VERY discreet.)


it might be best. (What is this “it” of which you speak? We seem to have lost the trhead.)


It may have been an innocent comment, (Or possibly an innocuous commode. One can never tell.)


but for some reason you just can't stop thinking about it. (Again with these apparently antecedent-less “it”s. Don’t MAKE Us sic the IRS on you.)


Better give it a shot, though (SHOTS!!!)


-- if you don't want this to end. (Oh, great. She’s switched from “it” to “this”. We STILL don’t know what the fu(k she’s talking about. @sshat.)


Superman has nothing on you -- not right now. (Leotard-wearin’ freak.)


Still, your x-ray vision and ability to leap tall buildings may need to be tested before you take the show on the road. (We’d settle for just the flying part. (Although you know d@mn well that, if We were (subjunctively) Superman, We’d wind up in kryptonite longjohns.))


(Micro$oft Weird™ seems to think “longjohns” is not a word. Apparently, Micro$oft Weird™ has forgotten last winter. And lumberjack fetishes.)


The hesitation you're feeling just might work for you -- this time. (Uhhhh…We doubt it. (Heh. See what We did there? (Our suBtleties…let Us show them to you.)))


Be quiet, (Are We hunting wabbits?)


and wait for your opponent to speak. (Only if they promise to follow that up with rolling over and playing dead.)


Bet they'll make a mess of it. (Bet We hit them on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper.)


(Your YOUR-O-Scopes):






http://www.humorscope.com




so make it cowgrass, or make it yourself)