Petals on a pool, drifting

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for HumpDay, May 2th, 2012.  Happy birthday to Our American Cousin (other than THAT, how did you like the play, Mrs. Lincoln?) Chris, who turns twenty-four today.  Many of you must think it peculiar that We have so many cousins who are all the same age, but We come from a large family.  With a small abacus.  (That was a little math joke (very little), for Our Geek Readers.  (Later on, We’ll tell a butt secks joke.  For Our Greek Readers.))

Speaking of butt secks, from the Things That Have Been Amusing Us On The WorldWideInterWebNetz This Week Department, it would appear that there is an independently published comic series entitled Bone, which was originally serialized in 55 irregularly released issues from 1991 to 2004.  Apparently, said comic series is enjoying a resurgence of popularity amongst young str8 gentlemen of Our acquaintance, a fact which We have only learnt because of SitOnMyFaceBook’s penchant for sharing people’s proclivities with The Universe.  So all week We have been reading SitOnMyFaceBook updates that say things like “Michael Doherty likes Bone” and giggling to Ourself.  Because We are twelve.

Michael Doherty is, of course, the Barrymore-award-winning actor who appeared as Justin Bieber in Our Starzina’s Time of the Month Horoscope: Pisces  video.  Which We shall insert here, in case you somehow managed to miss it:

Heh.  “Michael Doherty likes Bone”.  We kill Us.  (Equally funny, or possibly even funnier, is the bizarre SitOnMyFaceBook construction “Bone.  Michael Doherty likes this.”, which actually makes Our inner twelve-year-old giggle even more. (Oh.  My.  God.  No wonder We’re so fat…there’s a twelve-year-old in there.))

In other news, it will come as no surprise to many of you that We?  Have fucked up again.  Sigh.  Where is all this wisdom that is supposed to come with age?  Jesus.

Speaking of Jesus, He will be appearing in The Match Game (see below), and, having been freed of the constraints of the usual WaitStaffian white-shirt-black-pants uniform, has chosen a lovely 70s ensemble for the occasion.  In fact, We venture to say the outfit alone is well worth the price of admission.  

The WaitStaff Plays The Match Game!

The most hilarious, bawdy, risque game show from the 70s, 80s, and 90s returns with a spin that only the WaitStaff could give it! Featuring icons such as host Gene Rayburn and celebrity players extraordinaire like Charles Nelson Reilly and Bret Somers, as well as WaitStaff favorites like Jesus H. Christ and The Real Housewives of South Philly's Duchess, along with a few Extra Special Guest Stars, including the lovely and talented Sharon Geller and the talented and lovely Peter Patrikios, We'll be rocking L'Etage on May 2, 3, and 4.

The shows are at 7:30, and the doors open at 7. Tickets are $15, but, if you mention that you heard about the show in Eric’s Daily Horoscope, you'll get in for $10. And, if you're up for it, you could even be a Match Game contestant and win Fabulous Prizes! 

Tickets are ONLY available at the door, so get there early, get your drink on, and GET READY TO MATCH THE STARS!!!

We do hope to see you there.  (Here is a link to the SitOnMyFaceBook event, if you’d like to let Us know that you’re coming:http://www.facebook.com/events/377171015666589/ )

Here is a link to Starzina’s Time of the Month Horoscope: Taurus: which you can use to share it with your very own personal friends who are currently birthdaying:http://youtu.be/KlqQw4TppqY

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

And now, the HorrorScope:

You have to show that special friend how much they mean to you.  (Once again, apparently We are supposed to spend Our day explaining things to ‘tards. (Do you think We could get paid if We started a shoe-tying class?))

Do something nice so they can feel the love, even if they’re halfway across the world.   (So wait…suddenly We’re in charge of ALL the ‘tards?  That’s a whole lotta ‘tard goin’ on there.  What about the ‘tards who are ‘tardy in another language?  Perhaps We could invent some universal ‘tard language.  Like Pig Latin, only gruntier.  (We’re well on Our wayto some “’tards rooting for truffles” joke, but We think We’ll stop here.  After all, We still have to be spontaneously funny this evening, and We wouldn’t want to shoot Our wad (heh) early.))

(Although We do like Bone.)

Pay it forward!  (Oh, indeed.  We are single-handedly making Michael Doherty a star.  Smell Us.)

You have done an admirable job of putting your own interests aside in favor of the larger group’s desires lately, (Yeah, wuzzup wit dat?)

but you must be careful that you don’t make this type of extreme generosity a habit. (Indeed.  Because We would look awful in a habit.  We need bright colors.  And Spanx™.  And some sedatives for Our inner twelve-year-old.)

Balance is important, (Jack Palance, on the other hand, is dead.)

and you have to weigh the pros and cons of each situation as it comes up. (With a knick-knack paddywhack, give a dog a Bone…sorry; what were you saying?)

You can’t understand the right way to move forward until you thoroughly examine a situation. (ExACTly.  You have to know all the ins and outs.  In, out, in, out, in, out…repeat as necessary.)

Giving up what you want should not be your automatic reaction.  (Oh, no.  It’s much better to lose what you want in a long, bloody battle.  Trust Us.)

Life is full of accidents, (Just ask modern couples’ third children.)

and not all of them involve a visit to the ER. (Certainly not, if you’re wearing Depends™.)

Your next romance could be all due to kismet.  (Honey, NOBODY does Kismet anymore.  Get some gay friends.  Jeebus.)

 (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!)

                            

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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.

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 )