Somebody spoke and I went into a dream . . .

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s! Daily! Horoscope! for JustAnotherMadLibs™Monday, October 21^th, 2013.   Happy Birthday to Karen, who turns twenty-four today right here in The City That Loves You (On Your) Back.  Also, Happy Birthday to Jason, who also turns twenty-four today, Somewhere In New Jersey.

Happy Belated Birthday, meanwhile, to Richard, who turned twenty-four this past weekend, coincidentally in the same Somewhere In New Jersey as Jason, although, according to SitOnMyFaceBook, they do not know each other.

(SitOnMyFaceBook, as you probably know, was broken this morning.  We, of course, thought “it was Us”, and wasted a good hour rebooting, etc. before We heard the news (today, oh, boy) on Twatter.  Which is just as well, because last time something was broken and it WAS Us, We asked YouPeople for help and not a single goddamn one of you so much as answered Us.)

Happy Belated Birthday also to Cynthia, who turned twenty-four this past weekend in Liverpool.  Which sounds pretty cool, until you realize it’s not the John-Paul-George-and-Ringo-related one (today, oh, boy (and right away We have a musical theme…are We good or what? (Who said, “Or what”?))), but the one in Pennsyltucky.  Which We didn’t even know existed until this very minute.  Speaking of Pennsyltucky, Happy Belated Birthday also to Luke, who turned twenty-four this past weekend in Erie.

(Parenthetical (hence the parentheses) digression re: Erie: Number One, wouldn’t it be more fun if it were (subjunctively) spelled “Eerie”?  And (B.), they have a canal there, yes?  Which always reminds Us of that old palindrome: “A man, a plan, a canal….anal sex!”)

Happy Belated Birthday also to The Lovely And Talented Daniel, who turned twenty-four this past weekend in WeHo.  And also too, Happy Belated Birthday to Kate, who also too turned twenty-four this past weekend.  In New York.  Not New York, New York.  (The name of the place is not “Not New York”.  (But then, you probably knew that.)  It’s “Syracuse”.  Which is kind of making Us want to do some sort of really esoteric “j’accuse” joke.  Unfortunately, We don’t speak Frawnch.  Nor do We have a Jacuzzi™.)

Speaking of birthdays, We had a dream last night that it was Our Own Personal birthday, which is odd, considering that We’ve had quite enough birthdays as it is.  In honor of the occasion, they played one of Our Time of the Month Horoscope videos on (We shit you not) Beavis and Butthead.   Then We had sex with a robot. (Not a “Danger, Will Robinson!” kind of robot, but a mechanical human.  We’d tell you who it looked like, but then We’d have to kill you.)

Meanwhile  Picturing Peter’s Peter Week ended, much like Picturing Allen And Kevin Naked Week before it, and We never were sexted a winning penis pixture from Peter, Allen, OR Kevin.  (Or from Peter Allen, but that is much less surprising, as he is dead.)  And there was a serious prize at stake and everything….

YouPeople do understand that these e-pisstles are meant to be interactive, don’t you?  We are a real, live person sitting here typing this, not some WorldWideInterWebNetzian Random Hilarity Generator.  You can leave comments, you can answer questions when We ask them, you can share Us with your friends and, if you send Us a pixture of your prick, We will not bleed.

Alas, poor Shakespeare…We knew him well.  He is currently chortling in his grave over Our “prick” pun.  Or, to misquote the Black Fairy from Sleeping Beauty, “You will finger your prick and die!”

All of which is to say, if you are Allen, Kevin, or Peter, We will still accept penis sexts, and you will still get the promised prize.  Hell, even if you’re NOT Allen, Kevin, or Peter, We will still accept penis sexts, and you will still get a prize.  (But only if the penis in question is yours…don’t go sending Us porno penises.  No Jeff Stryker.  (Helpful hint:  if you don’t know who Jeff Stryker is, DON’T Google him if you are at work.  (Hi, Dena!)))

If you do not happen to have a penis, or are shy about sharing said penis, We shall also send a prize to the first person to guess who the robot from the dream story earlier looked like.

In other news, it was recently theorized that all New Yorker cartoons could be captioned with “Christ, what an asshole” without compromising their comedic value. It was subsequently discovered that this is true of virtually all comics, old and new:

http://www.robertsinclair.net/comic/asshole.html

And here is the HorrorScope:

Google, meanwhile, was insistent in informing Us today that it was Celia Cruz’s birthday.  Celia Cruz, for those who are uninformed (as We were, until mere moments ago) was The Queen Of Salsa.  She was, presumably, married to The King Of Tortilla Chips.  Whatevs, Google.

You’re not moving as quickly as you would like (That was Uncle Joe, he was movin’ kinda slow at the Junction…Petticoat Junction, Junction, what’s your function?)

(Okay, that there?  Was a musical mash-up.  For old people.)

but there’s more to life than simple speed.  (We KNOW.  We watched Breaking Bad.)

You may need to check in with your people for some assistance if you get too far behind, though.  (Yeah.  Our people.  Assistance.  We’ll just sit here and hold Our breath until this text turns blue.   Oh, wait…)

That person who’s been eyeing you from across the room?  (Is Arlene Francis.  She’s about to say, “Are you in show business?”  To which We shall reply, “Honey, if you have to ASK, apparently We’re not.”)

(That was another old people joke.  Sorry, young people.)

(Maybe if you sent Us a dick pic from time to time, We’d tell more young people jokes.)

Don’t you dare stare back, or even crack so much as a grin if you’re not interested. (May We crack the gin?  It’s ALMOST noon.)

You’re packing super- ultra- mega-sensual energies now, (Oh, yeah.  That’s EXACTLY what We’re packing.)

and it’s no surprise (SURPRISE!!!)

others are picking up on them. (Who are these “others” of whom you speak? And why have We no pictures of their privates?)

Save yourself the trouble, and save them the heartache.  (Also, save the whales.  They’ll look good over the mantelpiece.)

Are you looking for a sign? (Yes. “Slippery when wet”. Have you seen one?)

Instead of gazing at tea leaves or checking in with a crystal ball, you need to visit coupled-up friends for a quick chat about romance. (Yeah.  ‘Cause “Third Wheel” is always a fun role.)

Get some good advice on how to look for your next love. (“Google Jeff Stryker…”)

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!)

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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.

                                                                                                                                     

I don’t want to wait for Our lives to be over

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s! Daily! Horoscope! for  Friday, March 08, 2013.  Happy International Women’s Day to all of Our International Women readers.  We hope you are enjoying some lovely General Foods™ International Coffee at the International House of Pancakes™ while you peruse an International Male™ catalog.  (Does this holiday discriminate against women who have never left their home country?  Inquiring minds want to know.  Also, while it is perfectly possible to have a Miss World™ pageant, where does One get the presumption to have a Miss Universe™ pageant?  (“International Male™ catalog”  made Us think of swimsuits, which made Us think of swimsuit competitions, so here is a picture of Kevin Bacon in a Speedo™:

))

If Our ass(tromalogical) ho(roscopulations) are a bit (further) off the mark today, it is because We be illin’.  You see, yesterday Our Starzina’s Time of the Month Horoscope video director asked Us if We were getting sick, to which We replied, “No”.  It being clearly, as One can see from the weather shenanigantics, Opposite Week, We were immediately stricken down with what We can only assume is a soap opera malady.  (We’re fairly certain We had amnesia once as well, but We don’t remember much about it.) We shall probably be dead by next Friday’s e-pissode, but YouPeople will never notice, as We shall be replaced by Our Evil Twin.

Now, of course, when you should all be off dialing 1-800-FLOWERS™ to send Us get-well baskets (see Kevin Bacon’s Speedo™, above), all you can do is sit there and say, “Wait…this is the GOOD twin?”

Thanks.

Here is a picture of a get-well basket:

Hey, We’re dying here. Cut Us some slack.

In other news, today is the last day of Our drinking Maya Angelou’s Christmas tree’s asshole tea instead of coffee.  (If you were absent the day We explained that, please go back your own self and find the reference.  It was ten calendar days ago, but We really cannot be arsed to do it for you.)  We had been drinking Our Maya Angelou’s Christmas tree’s asshole tea iced, but today, because We are sick, We are drinking it hot.  As We sit by the phone waiting for Lipton’s™ to call and invite Us to join their Product Naming Division.

Meanwhile, nice weather We’re having, eh?  We don’t give a shit how much damn unpredicted snow falls, We’re not shoveling it, because they are predicting 57 degrees and sunny for tomorrow, and We are just sick enough to believe them.

Here is the SitOnOurFaceBook event where you can find out all about Uncharted Waters (and its companion piece, Superwoman), and say you’re coming:

http://www.facebook.com/events/617567798260241/

Speaking of Opposite Day, why don’t’cha all do something different and share  Our new Starzina’s Time of the Month Horoscope video for Pisces with your friends:    http://youtu.be/KMNgwWwNux8 .

Here are the HorrorScopes:

Well, no wonder We are under the weather.  It is James van der Beek’s birthday, and We have not been invited to join in the festivities.  (FYI There is a gay porn fillum called Dawson’s Crack.  We felt you needed to know that.)

Here is the rearview of that get-well basket:

You new ideas are your best yet  (What gave you that idea?)

(Heh.  See what We did there?)

(No?  Us neither.)

— so make sure that you’re talking them up throughout the day!  (To the best of Our knowledge, We shall be talking to no one today.  We still have a fillum shoot tomorrow. And We must, at some point, learn the fifty-six words of dialog We need to know.  (Yes, We said “words”, not “lines”, or “pages”.  Becoming an overnight success apparently takes a really long time.  (On the plus side, some very clever director will no doubt be able to rearrange said fifty-six words as uttered by Us on celluloid into a stunning message from beyond the grave to be delivered sometime after Our demise on next Friday’s e-pissode.  Naturally, that will have to wait until Our evil twin is unmasked.)))

(Vacation time shares in (what passes for) Our mind are still available between now and Memorial Day.)

Of course, you need to get to work at some point, but it may be better for now to gin up support.  (Wait…since when is “gin” a verb?  Does that make “martini” a verb as well?  What if people start to confuse it with “watusi”?)

Why are you doubting other people’s truthfulness right now?  (Because they are lying liars who lie?)

When they say they will be there to help you, they will be!  (Great!  Please vacuum Our sinuses, Pronto.)

(Pronto is capitalized because he is Our new sidekick.  Much like the Lone Ranger’s Tonto.  Or the Green Hornet’s Kato.  Or Batman’s Dildo.)

(We told you, We’re sick.)

A new person on the scene might want to share the spotlight with you, but they have no intention of stealing it all from you — so just relax and show this person you welcome them on the scene.  (Yes, We shall be meeting new people on the set of Our fillum.  People just LOVE meeting Typhoid Mary.)

So, you like this person, but what’s their story?  (It’s the story of a man named Brady, who was “busy” with three boys of his own… (Did that sound dirty to you?  Because it sounded dirty to Us.))

Use your favorite search engine to check them out — subtly of course.   (“SuBtly”  is Our middle name.)

Better to know whether this person’s an ax murder before it goes any further, unless, of course, you like ax murderers! (In the grand scheme of things, by the time One finds out that someone is an ax murderer,  wouldn’t whether One likes them or not be a moot point?  (Unless, of course, they were on, say, What[‘s My Line? Arlene Francis: “Are you in show business?” Ax murderer:  “No, I’m an ax murderer.”))

(Did We just make an Arlene Francis joke?  Perhaps We should go back to bed…)

 

(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.

                                                                                                                                     

Katmandu….that’s really, really where I’m going to.

                                           

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Thurston Howell the Thursday, June 30, 2011.  Happy birthday (We think) to Willam, who turns twenty-four today.  And, to the rest of you, Happy Another Half A Year Shot To Hell.

We do so love to spread good cheer.

We attempted to wish you all a Happy Hump Day yesterday, but We were overcome with a fit of ennui.  Meanwhile, Happy Over The Hump Day doesn’t seem at all the same thing.

To the extent that anything can fascinate Us this morning, We are fascinated by exactly how someone got referred to these pages from the site of the 2011 Rugby World Cup Store.  (And no, We’re not making that up; a little GoogleBird told Us. (We’re SAYING “GoogleBird”, but We’re THINKING “DickyBird”, and, consequently, We’re having impure thoughts. (We just attempted to GoogleBird “DickyBird” on WikiBird, with most unsatisfactory results.  Although Lady Bird Johnson is still dead.)))

You just know your day is gonna be total crap when the Celebrity Of The Day is Lady Bird Johnson.

Should We even waste the oxygen required to mention that Starzina’s Time Of The Month Horoscope: Cancer video can be found right here http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p3cqsTuxavM  ?  Yeah, We didn’t think so.

Perhaps We should start the HorrorScope.  Not that it will matter.

You can get more done than you think today (Well, since We are imagining accomplishing exactly nothing, that is probably true.)

— all those obstacles and distractions are illusory, (Yeah, it’s not like anyone returns Our phone calls or anything.)


or at least less potent than they appear at first. (So, wait…impotent people are going  to distract Us?  Greeeeaaattt.)


Abandon all fear (Except for fear itself.)


and move ahead quickly.  (Alternatively, bang the drum slowly.)


(No, We have no idea.)


It’s all about strutting your very hot stuff right now (Oh, please.)

— your strength is bigger than ever and growing!  (We haven’t showered yet.  Give Us a break.)


Make sure nobody ignores you today. (And how exactly would you suggest We do THAT?)


Put on your boldest outfit, laugh your loudest laugh and flash your brightest smile. (In other words, forget to take Our lithium.)


Do whatever it takes to stand out from the crowd and make a jaw-dropping impact. (That sounds like a lot of work.)


People are looking in your direction (Gawd help them.)


and wondering who you are (And, more to the point, who We THINK We are.)


and what you’re all about. (We are all about the Hokey-Pokey.  That’s what it’s ALL about.)


Keep them guessing, (Just like Arlene Francis.)


(Dear Lord Jeebus, Arlene Francis AND Lady Bird Johnson?!?  We might as well just go directly back to bed.)


and you’ll keep getting noticed. (But will We get nudists?)


 You are feeling the urge to clean house (Oh.  We thought that was gas.)


— on many levels!  (We have two floors. We can only clean on one at a time.  And of all the things We SHOULD be accomplishing today but aren’t, that’s at the top of the list.  Or at the bottom.  Depending on how it’s ordered.  (We are so confused now.))


Spend extra time tidying up your living space, but when you’re all done, think about cleaning out some old emotional baggage, as well.  (Ah, yes, Our emotional hatboxes, Our emotional steamer trunks, Our emotional portmanteaux. Catch a fox and put him in a box and never shag a ho.)

 

(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.