Ya gotta have heart!

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s! Daily! Horoscope! for WinesDay, January Twenty-Turd, Twenty-TurdTeen.  Happy Birthday to Deedee, who turns twenty-four today in Northern New Jersey, where We would imagine it is even colder than it is here in Our black, black heart.  It is not, of course, Hump Day, Monday having been a holiday, but it is, We are informed, National Pie Day.  So Happy Pie Day, y’all.

“PieDay!”  We hear you ejaculate.  “But it isn’t 3/14!”

“No, indeed, it is not.”  We retort.  (Or perhaps, since it is Pie Day, We should retart.  (We shouldn’t retorte, because that would be cake.  (Does anybody know when National Cake Day is?))) “But the National Pie Council (and, seriously, how do We get a job on the National Pie Council, counseling people, “Have some pie!”?)  has declared 1/23 National Pie Day, because (wait for it)…making pie is as easy as 1-2-3.”

Except for the “pie” part, doesn’t that kinda just make ya wanna stick a fork into your jugular vein?

Cake lovers, meanwhile, will be distressed to hear that National Cake Day?  Isn’t till November 26.  We Googled it on Wikipedia for you.  Because that’s just the kind of full-service, one-stop-shopping Eric’s! Daily! Horoscope! We aim to be for you.  You’re welcome.  (It occurs to Us that, although it will not be true this year, November 26 could be Thanksgiving.  Who the hell would want National Cake Day to fall on Thanksgiving?  Nobody eats cake on Thanksgiving.)

We just got two hundred and fifty words out of National Fucking Pie Day.  Which is good, because there’s not a single other damn thing going on in what passes for Our life.

Here is a little Aquarius fillum, for Our birthday Aquarians:

And here are the HorrorScopes:

In other news, Chita Rivera is eighty today.  Rita Moreno could not be reached for comment.

You need to speak from the heart  (And you need to stop speaking from Uranus.)

— but you need to do so in a way that acknowledges that you still have a brain!  (We could while away the hours, conferrin’ with the flowers…)

(Sorry.)

Make sure that your people (It’s been a while since she’s delusionally referred to Our imaginary people.)

(Micro$oft Weird™ doesn’t seem to think that “delusionally” is a word.  Has you MET Us, Micro$oft Weird™?  Is you delusional?)

(Having just typed “delusional” and “delusionally” so many times, One is now attempting to construct a joke in which One conjugates Dom Deluise. (Relax…One is failing to do so.))

get the message in a way that only you can deliver it.  (Wouldn’t it be interesting if the meaning of “deliver” were (subjunctively) analogous to the meaning of “debone”?)

(Vacation time shares in Our mind are available all the way through March.)

(Heh.  We just mistyped “shares” as “sharts”.  Vacation time sharts.  Vacation …all I ever sharted… Vacation shart to get away…. (That was a little musical number for Our Sistah Ovella, who is under the weather.   A little The Go-Gos, to cheer her up.))

(We are now thinking up song lyrics in which We could replace “heart” with “shart”.  For example, “My Shart Belongs To Daddy”.  Sung by Miss Mary Shartin.  Or “Shart Like A Wheel”.  By Miss Linda Ronshart.)

(Oh, you love Us, you know you do!)

(Oh, wait…is Kelli still talking?)

Trying to always make everything equal between you and your friends is a total waste of time. (Much like this horoscope.)

You have to acknowledge the fact that sometimes you’ll give a little bit more and sometimes they’ll give a little bit more.  (You’ve got to give a little, take a little…(wait for it)…and let your poor shart break a little…)

(We kill Us.)

It will all equal out in the end, so stop trying to make it equal now. (Don’t tell Us what to do.  Bitch.)

You could be creating stress and turning a good day into a day full of nickel and dime arguments.  (A dime?!?  Where’d We get a dime?!?)

Just because life isn’t always fair doesn’t mean that it can’t be fun.  (In your shart of sharts, you know dat’s true.)

Anyone capable of keeping up with you is extremely happy to be along for the ride today.  (This face seats five.  Also, it’s leaving in five minutes…be on it.)

You’re even more attuned to your world and connections with other people today — and you’re extra hot!

(Whatever.  AssHat.  You just know We could not leave you without a song from the American musical theatre…”One Hand, One Shart” from West Side Story.  (You know, the one about the Jets and the Sharts.))

 (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.

                                                                                                                                    

You can ring my beh-eh-ell, ring my bell

Greetings,  Entenmann’s™ Raspberry Inspires Carboloading---

(Micro$oft Weird™ doesn’t think “carboloading” is a word.  Micro$oft Weird™ has apparently not noticed Our @ssz eclipsing the sun.)

Here is your horoscope for Wednesday, September 22, 2010 (We have absolutely nothing to report, but We got email from OurShaun in London, England, Britain, UK yesterday saying that he “loved” yesterday’s horoscope.  And, since Our wit wasn’t particularly scintillating, We are guessing that what he loved was the Erix Daily Horoscope Pixture Du Jour Au Jus Crème Brulee Nanette Fabray Robert Goulet Why Do The French Love Jerry Lewis.   So, since We have another one like it, We thought We’d share.):

(Also, Happy Hump Day. If you are humping, We don’t want to hear about it.  If you are humpbacked, on the other hand, you can ring our bell.)

(In other news, you can go here http://www.delawarescene.com/event.php?id=4014  to get FIVE DOLLAR tickets to see the WaitStaff’s Real Housewives of South Philly at the Wilmington Fringe.  Also, We are appearing this Saturday night at 7PM in some theater at Ursinus College for the low, low price of FREE. Are We two-bit wh0res, or what? (If you will be in the vicinity of Uranus College, ask Us for actual details.))

(Speaking of wh0ring, here’s Everybody’s Favorite Messiah, Jesus H. Christ, with His YouTube video:

)

(Our-O-Scopes:)

You need to reach out and help your friends who are in need — and there may be quite a few of them! (Alright, you needy b1tches, line up for gruel.)

You probably won’t get too much done of your own business, (Well, We suppose not.  All this damn gruel ain’t gonna make itself.)

but you should have plenty of time tomorrow. (Also, your son’ll come out tomorrow.  Bet your bottom dollar he’s a bottom.)

In a gaggle of geese, you’re a swan. (What the fu(k is THAT supposed to mean?)

In a clutch of hens, you’re the head bird. (The word you’re looking for is “cock”.  (Come (heh) to think of it, the word MOST of Us are looking for is “cock”.))

(A-doodle-doo.  Also, yabba-dabba-doo, and a little dab’ll do ya.  BOO-yah!)

(What?)

In a flock of nightingales, you’ve got the sweetest and most powerful voice. (Also, We taste like chicken.  Really OLD chicken, but still.)

Yep, (“Yep”?)

you’re kind of a natural leader type. (Also, this is Our natural hair color.)

And right now, you’ve got just the right inspiration as to where to go and how to get there. (Why is it getting so warm in here, and what are We doing in this handbasket?)

This inspiration will turn you into a 100 percent bona fide top bird. (Kiss Us quick, We’re Tippi Hedren.)

So go ahead and crow until everybody listens. (Or possibly Mary Martin. (If you actually got that, you are (A.) very, very old and (2.) gayer than Liberace’s purse fu(king Charles Nelson Reilly’s ascot in a field of pansies while Paul Lynde’s Tuesday panties look on and sip a banana daiquiri with an umbrella in it.))

You’ve got great creative flow and vision  (Quick…who’s got a Maxi-Pad™?)

— which is ideal for work, but also great for any romantic endeavors. (Is it just Us, or is there absolutely nothing romantic about an “endeavor”?)

Dream up a hilarious message to someone special, (Your entire family has been eaten by rabid dogs!)

(It strikes Us that that sounded like a fortune cookie message and, as such, should definitely end with “in bed”.)

or issue the perfect invite! (Hey, We already made gruel for all you needy b1tches…what the h3ll else do you want from Us?)

 (Your YOUR-O-Scopes):

http://www.humorscope.com

Have you driven a cowgrass lately?)