Beef-A-Roni™’s really neat, Beef-A-Roni™’s fun to eat, Beef-A-Roni™ can’t be beat, HOORAY for Beef-A-Roni™!

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Thursday, January 20, 2011.  SO sorry about that subject line, Ducks, but if it’s stuck in MY head, why shouldn’t it be stuck in YOURS?

It would appear that, for something new and different, we’re going to have snow tonight and tomorrow.  Oh, the Winter Wonderlandishness of it all!  (For those of us in The City That Loves You (On Your) Back, “Wonderland” is a head shop.  Not sure how that relates to anything, but I’m just putting it out there.)

HOORAY for Beef-A-Roni™!  And, of course, its vegan counterpart, Seitan-Roni™.  (I was in a restaurant over the weekend where, when the waitron said “seitan”, it sounded like she was saying “Satan”.  Hilarity ensued.  The vegans were not amused.  Until we sacrificed a virgin for them.  Not, of course, an actual virgin…a TOFU virgin.  With a seitan hymen.  (“Tofu virgin” is much like “kung pao chicken”.  Except there’s no chicken in it.  And it’s never been pao’ed.))

I have no idea what brought on the preceding paragraph, except possibly a desperate desire to dump on some minority other than the Esquimaux.  I trust that Our vegan friends will take it all in the spirit of fun in which it is intended, and not get their knickers in a twist.

I said “knickers”…pay closer attention.

Somewhere in there is a Chubby Checker joke…and how many times does anyone ever say THAT?

You Yanks are so TOUCHY.

Your action today can have profound effects on the future, (But it can’t change your past.  Although it could change your pants. (Of course by “pants”, we Brits mean what you Yanks mean by “underpants”.  That’s what makes it funny.  Try to keep up.))

so it’s time for you to take life a little more seriously (Why?  Nobody makes it out alive.)

— but only a little! (Rich Little?  Cleavon Little?  Little Red Riding Hood?)

You may want to make sure that you’re dealing with the right people.  (Something tells me that Rich Little, Cleavon Little, and Little Red Riding Hood are NOT “the right people”.)

You’re not usually prone to daydreaming. (I am, however, usually prone for nightdreaming.  Not that last night was a prime example.  Of course Himself is still fast abed, so who knows what epics are in the making?)

Like your equally action-oriented predecessors — warriors of all kinds — you’re much more inclined to sit down with someone rational and make a battle plan, more so than letting anything as sentimental as intuition guide your actions. (Is it just me, or does it sound as if someone has been playing a little too much Dungeons and Dragons?)

Right now, however, you’re feeling remarkably soft (Watch it, Missy.)

and totally willing to let your gut feelings direct your actions. (With a fart-fart here, and a fart-fart there; here a fart, there a fart, everywhere a fart-fart…Old MacDonald had to fart, ee-yi-ee-yi-oh.)

(And you Yanks think I’m not tapped into American culture.)

If you need to take a day or so away from the world to let all this settle, (Calgon™, take me away!)

stay home with family and friends and indulge in lots of snuggling. (I fail to see how fabric softener is going to improve anything.  Also, that bear freaks me out.)

Your move doesn’t have to be pushy — make it friendly, something that doesn’t involve a big commitment.  (If you come shovel my snow tomorrow, I’ll give you all the fabric softener you can drink.)

(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.

Tell me why…I don’t like Mondays

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Monday, January 17, 2011.  First and Formosa (Formosa…where the natives like to Taiwan on (shtick around for da jokes)), I would like to wish all you Yanks a very Happy Martin Luther King Junior Day.  We in the UK do not, of course, celebrate Martin Luther King Junior Day.  Not that we don’t have black people, mind you.  It’s just that we didn’t kidnap ours and force them into slavery.  You Americans and your wacky, zany, madcap sense of humour.   At any rate, I trust all of your Martin Luther King Junior Day trees are trimmed, your Martin Luther King Junior Day cookies are baked, your Martin Luther King Junior Day presents are wrapped, and your Martin Luther King Junior Day cards are mailed.  In honor of the holiday, today’s Erix Daily Horoscope Pixture Du Jour Au Jus Nipsey Russell Cleavon Little Moms Mabley is the front cover of The Hipster Huckleberry Finn, in which every occurrence of the N-word is replaced with “hipster”.  (I am well aware that I mentioned this very opus in an Erix Daily Horoscope just last week, but bugger off, you lot of bollocks-polishers; YOU try coming up with original material, day in, day out, in the midst of Seasonal Affective Disorder and the onset of menopause.)

Speaking of trees, here at Casa de Poorhouse, the Christmas tree just came down on Saturday, after a whopping seven weeks.  (That’s just an expression, actually; there was really precious little whopping going on.)  Not that Himself was any help…he was off appearing in some video or other with some of his artsy-fartsy friends.  (Also airy-fairy.  (Also Abercrombie and Fitch.))  More on that story as it develops.

I just accidentally found out who Luke Worrall is.  Can I ever get those brain cells back?

You need to deal with some family elders who are trying to take on too much — or pushing you too hard.  (Whatevs…could they send me a check?)

(Meanwhile, from the Wild and Woolly WorldWideInterWebNetz,  someone on SitOnMyFaceBook was lamenting the untimely demise of someone or another, and expressed a desire for said someone to “Rest In Piece”.  Sigh.  This does, however, lead in to the perfect opportunity to point out that, if I should drop dead all of a sudden, and you are so grief-stricken that you are updating your SitOnMyFaceBook status to tell all fourteen hundred and sixty-two of your very closest friends just how grief-stricken you are, then you are just not grief-stricken enough.  Jeebus.)

It may not be perfectly comfortable, but you can find a way to get them to listen.  (All that hollering sounds like a lot of work.)

You want to travel so badly that if you could, you’d be in a cab on your way to the airport right now, passport in hand.  (Sing it, Sister. (In other news, I just learned (again, via the WorldWideInterWebNetz) that today is also known as Blue Monday, and  is, statistically, the most depressing day of the year.  So there’s that.))

If duty calls, however  (Take a fu(king message…Starzina’s on the way to the Caribbean.)

— especially if it calls loudly enough to keep you off that plane— your sense of responsibility will kick in. (Kick THIS, bitch.)

In that case, the least you can do is to treat yourself to the company of someone new and exotic. (Or, better still, nude and erotic.  But not, presumably, nuked and anorexic.)

 Your reaction to a new romantic situation could be quite intense today, and while it’s essential to let it all out, make sure to think about how you do it — and, more importantly, to whom. (Ya know, if you actually stop to contemplate it, the preceding is really a filthy, dirty sentence.  Not that there’s anything wrong withthat.)

(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.