If he says the whore can do…can do, can do

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s! Daily! Horoscope! for  FriedEgg, April 19st, 2013.  Happy Birthday to Sara, who turns twenty-four today all the way out in Fran SanCisco.  Where they make Rice-A-Roni™, the Fran SanCisco treat. 

We, of course, have never forgiven the Rice-A-Roni™ people for stopping the inclusion of nuts in their “fried rice” variety.  Those of you who are not yet twenty-four may not remember this, but, Back In The Day (whatever the fuck THAT means), Rice-A-Roni™ “fried rice” included a little packet of slivered almonds, the addition of which made it just about the best damn junk food/hangover cure going.

Said nuts were eliminated sometime within the past decade or so (We would research this for accuracy, but seriously?  Look up your own damn nuts.), We suspect not so much as a cost-containment move as a response to the ever-increasing number of chirren with nut allergies.  To which We say, the hell?  Where did all these chirren with nut allergies come from all of a sudden?  Back when We were a chirren (please pause here and try to imagine THAT), We didn’t have all these chirren running around with nut allergies.  We all ate peanut butter all the time, and, presumably, the ones with nut allergies died.  Although We don’t recall going to a lot of nut allergy-related funerals as a chirren, either.  Maybe they lied to Us, and said those chirren moved away. You would think We would have found it odd that the chirren moved away, and yet their families still lived there, but chirren can be very self-absorbed.

This is, one would assume (thereby shoving Uma Thurman up Hume Cronyn’s ass), why most humans are incapable of licking their own nuts.

But where were We?  Oh, yes…birthday wishes.  Happy Birthday also to Jasmine, who also turns twenty-four today, and who has a rice named after her, but We shall not digress again.  Also also, Happy Birthday to Beck, who also also turns twenty-four today, right here in The City That Loves You (On Your) Back, and also too also, Happy Birthday to Tim, who also too also turns twenty-four today in The BackYard Of The City That Loves You  (On Your) Back.  (That’s Our new way of saying “Suburbia”.  Aren’t We adorable?  (Don’t answer that.))

Meanwhile, on the subject of birthdays:

 "There's nothing better than cake, but more cake." 
-Harry S. Truman

We just thought We’d leave that birthday quote in there another day, since We had so many birthdays.

In other news, of interest to at least one of Our Gentle Readers (hi, Petr!) We do not watch American Idol.  And We do not say that as some sort of television snob (we DO, after all, watch Glee.  And Survivor.), but just as a statement of fact.  However, last night, We chanced to tune in to the last five minutes, after they had eliminated some hapless female contestant, and declined to save her with The Golden Ticket Of Veto or whatever the hell it is, and to the American Idol judges, We just have to say, really? It took you a whole hour, plus however many weeks preceding last night’s show, to get rid of this simple bitch, when Jaye P. Morgan of The Gong Show would have gonged her ass the instant she appeared onstage just for the monstrosity she was wearing?  Jeebus.

Is anyone still chuckling over the “lick their own nuts” joke?  Just Us?  Alrighty, then.

Moving on, from The Doing What We Do Best Department, We are going to complain for a moment. (Why Complaining is not an Olympic event, We’ll never know.  We could be the Michael Phelps of Complaining. (We could also make a damn fine showing at Being Michael Phelps’s Speedo™, but that’s a whole ‘nother (dare We say, Special) Olympics.))

But We’ve digressed.  Complaining, here We go.  We were looking forward to two things this week.  (We will be scrupulously fair, and not even count going out for a nice dinner on Our birthday, from which We were prevented by Our 24-hour gastric ailment, because We did not have a concrete plan in place for that one.)  TWO THINGS, and We didn’t get either one of them.  Oh, and, one of them, We haven’t even been told We’re not getting, but We’re not getting it.

So is the answer to look forward to more things, thereby increasing Our chances of getting at least one of them, or is the answer to look forward to nothing, since We’re not getting anything anyway?

It’s a “glass half empty/glass half full” kind of question.  We would drink straight from the bottle, but We have to work tonight.

Speaking of licking your own nuts, here is the link with which you will share Our Starzina’s Time of the Month Horoscope:  Aries video with your friends, enemies, frenemies, enemists, and frenulums:

http://youtu.be/saxvaR85vYU

Also, for those of you who like cups of tea, and history, and someone in a tree, here is last year’s Aries video, featuring Our mother, Rosy Starfish, for comparison:

And now (changing, for some artifactual reason, to birthday-cake-icing-baby-blue), here are the HorrorScopes:

Okay, wait…it is James Franco’s birthday, AND Hayden Christensen’s birthday, AND Tim Curry’s birthday, and We can’t even get a muthafuggin’ piece of cake up in this jawn?  We are pretty sure We have answered Our Own “looking forward to things” question.

(Did We just say “jawn”?  Are We speaking in tongues?)

(Also, Tim Curry is not the Tim to whom we wished a Happy Birthday earlier.  We are not quite THAT senile.  Yet.)

You need to move beyond your typical surroundings — so get out there and explore!  (Kiss Us quick, We are Dora The Ex-Whore Explorer From Bangalore.  (Now THERE’S a Saturday morning cartoon that people would actually WATCH.  Something for everyone, it has.))

It’s a good time to see if your friends or allies are willing to take a trip with you, (Oh, please.  We can’t even get them to tell Us they’re NOT willing to take a trip with Us.)

or at least offer smart tips.  (Does telling Us where to go count as a “smart tip”?)

 You have much more creativity than you think you do — especially today, when the universe is sending you a bright can-do attitude.  (There is a joke bubbling up in Our joke-u-bator about “tae can do”.  Unfortunately, it’s not a very funny joke.  Kill Our darlings, We do here.)

Good thing, too, because you will be thrust (OOOOOOOOOOHHH!!!!)

into a situation that forces you to think on your feet and come up with some quick answers.  (Forty-two!  The Louisiana Purchase!  Manifest Destiny!  William Faulkner: stream of consciousness!)

(How’d We do?)

Have no fear and you will have lots of fun. (What if We’re afraid of fun?  You didn’t think of THAT, didja?)

It’s time to stop worrying about what is right or wrong and just do what feels right. (Well, hell’s bells, Kelli…We could have stopped this nonsense all the way back at Being Michael Phelps’s Speedo™.)

Forget about breaking the rules  (Forget about what?)

(Heh. SWWDT?)

— make your own new ones. (Can they involve nut-licking?)

(Sometimes you feel like a nut, sometimes you don’t.)

(It’s like that old Tina Turner song:  “Nut-Lick City Limits”.)

 Beware of weird energy during the daylight hours — your moods may just give you some odd romantic impulses.  (“Odd” is in the eye of the beholder, AssHat.)

By later tonight, though, some hot stuff and sweet moves are yours if you want them. (Oh, please.  Later tonight, We shall be slinging drinks and bussing tables.  And, while We would love it if Hot Stuff made some Sweet Moves, We suspect it ain’t gonna happen.)

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://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.

                                                                                                                                     

To heuvos rancheros and Maya Angelou

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Toulouse-LautrecDay, January 3, 2012.  In case you are a naked skimmer, We shall tell you right up front to stay tuned after the Your-O-Scopes for a very important announcement.  Also, you may want to throw another log on the fire, as it’s very cold today, and you appear to have some serious shrinkage going on. (We see you when you’re sleeping, We know when you eat cake.  Also, We saw where you put your fingers when you thought no one was looking.)

That’s why the lady has the cramps…

Oh, sorry; did no one tell you it was National Burst Into Song Day?

So We just realized We have a brand spanking (oooohhh!!!) new 2012 calendar into which We have yet to copy any of Our recurring events.  Such as, for example, your birthdays.  So We had to go hunt up Our 2011 calendar to see if anybody’s birthday was today. If it (subjunctively) had been, you would have been a whole year younger, because We were using an old calendar.  Unfortunately, nobody’s was; too bad, so sad, anal sex with your dad.

All that crap about calendars…We feel just like a Mayan.  Or Maya Angelou.  One of those.  Whichever one wears a loincloth.

Some of Our more desperate str8 boi readers are now pixturing Maya Angelou in a loincloth.  The rest of Us are hoping that, on a day like today, Our loincloths are fur-lined.

Str8 bois in loincloths and whiskey in kittens,

Bright popper bottles and Romneys named Mittens

Circumcised penises tied up with strings…

This is a list of quite disparate things.

We TOLD you it was National Burst Into Song Day.  (Meanwhile, how many songs do YOU know that have the word “disparate” in them?)

But, seriously…Maya Angelou in a loincloth? This makes you wax the carrot?  Sigh…str8 bois…can’t live with ‘em, can’t shoot splooge in their eye.

(In other news, if you knew how long it took Us to think of the fact that that saying starts out “can’t live with ‘em”, you would send help over here immediately. (No, not THE Help.  Viola Davis in a starched apron would be every bit as useless to Us as Maya Angelou in a loincloth.  Jeebus!))

That there was a little cinematic pop culture reference.  Because We? Have Our pinger on the pulse. Also, We got the fever for the flavor of a Pringles™.  Whatever the fuck that means.

We totally feel like We are totally forgetting to tell you things.  Like, all day yesterday, after We had put the horoscope to bed (as it (subjunctively) were), We were totally all like, “Oh, We have to remember to tell them that tomorrow”, and now We totally forget what all those things were.

(Okay, that last paragraph?  Was Valley Girl Starzina.  Because We like to think outside Our box. (Our str8 boi readers All just popped boners thinking about Our box.  Little do they realize that, when you pull back Our fur-lined loincloth, Maya Angelou’s head pops out at you.))

Chinks and dykes and geeks better scurry

When you take a bath with Tim Curry

And you try to beat Fred MacMurray

With a riding crop…

(Which part of National Burst Into Song Day did you fail to understand?)

Meanwhile, did We mention how proud We are of this? (Naturally, that means We have to force Ourself to top it next time.)

You can share it with your friends using this:

http://youtu.be/qQ4zUrLmBPg

And now:

CHAAAAAAAARRRRR-lene Tilton…

Where the wind comes sweeping down the plane…

Alternatively, The HorrorScope:

You need to deal with your financial situation ASAP (Fine…if everybody who’s reading this right now sends Us a dollar, We can afford to buy a lottery ticket.)

— even if you feel that it could slide for a few weeks or months. (Could We just slide directly to retirement?)

Your mental energy is in the right place to take care of these issues.  (Also, Uranus is in your seventh house.  Of course, if you have seven houses, how bad can your financial problems really be?)

The greatest test of your patience today will not come from the usual source. (So you’re going to stop talking, eh, Kelli?)

 Instead, (No such luck.)

 your own wishes will be causing you to strain against your self-imposed leash. (Kinky!)

You’re ready to run ahead and grab what seems so close,  (Str8 bois in loincloths and whiskey…ooops, sorry.)

but that is not wise right now. (And We are nothing if not wise.)

Keep going at your current pace, (We are sitting still.)

because there is value in the journey you are taking. (Unless this chair grows wheels or becomes fart-propelled, this ain’t much of a journey.  Asshat.)

Skip over these crucial last steps, and you will also be skipping out on some very enlightening experiences.  (Skip to the loo, on the other hand, and you can have a lovely piddle.)

The more people you know, the better off you are right now. (Here’s hoping she means biblically.)

Connections, connections, connections  (Marcia, Marcia, Marcia)

— you can’t make enough of them. (Random musing: why are there no such things as PROnections?)

 Opportunities (And their knockers.)

will come quickly (Heh…Kelli said “come”.)

when you put yourself out there (If We get any farther “out there”, We’ll be on Uranus.)

and make your intentions known. (Not to be too specific about it, but Our intentions definitely involve your fur-lined loincloth.)

 (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.