A whole new world

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s! Daily! Horoscope! for JustAnotherMadDog20/20Monday, October 14^st , 2013. Happy Birthday to Steve P., aka The Steve P., who may or may not turn twenty-four today, in, We just learned, Hoboken.  Which is practically New York, but yet not really.

(We had to put the “P.” there, because Our nickname for Steve was always “The Steve Steve’sLastName”, because he was, like, ya know, famous and all.  Of course, here at Eric’s!Daily!Horoscope!, We don’t use last names, in order to protect the anonymity of Our Gentle Readers.  (We could, We suppose, have used a nom de plume. Which is, of course, Frawnch for “name that One calls One’s feathers”.  Which, now that We think of it, really doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. (It does, however, make more sense than “nom de pubes”, which is Frawnch for “name that One calls One’s pubic hair”, because who the hell names their pubic hair?)))

(Note to Self: Ask The Steve P. what he calls his pubic hair.)

Happy Belated Birthday, meanwhile, to Ellie, Ken, Liz, and Thom, each of whom turned twenty-four on Saturday, for a grand total of ninety-six.  All of them right here in The City That Loves You (On Your) Back, except for Liz, who did her twenty-four-turning in New York.  Which is not only practically New York, but, in fact, IS New York.  And has, presumably, no aspirations to be Hoboken.

(Note to Self: play on words involving “Hoboken” and “housebroken”.)

Happy Belated Birthday also to Jana, Jesse, Ross, and OurAmericanCousin Sarah, each of whom turned twenty-four on Sunday, except for OurAmericanCousin Sarah, who didn’t, so We have no idea what their grand total is.  Math is hard.  So is geography: while Jana turned twenty-four right here in The City Of Brotherly Love Handles, Jesse turned twenty-four somewhere in Illinois.  Since all We know about the geography of Illinois is Lesley Ann Warren flashing her cootchie while singing “Chicago Illinois” in Victor/Victoria, We’re gonna say that Jesse did his twenty-four-turning in HottieVille.  Which is like HooterVille, but with Hotties.

Ross, meanwhile, did his twenty-four-turning on an aeroplane, on his way back to The Colonies from Estonia, or Latvia, or some such place.  And OurAmericanCousin Sarah turned whatever age she turned in the wilds of Pennsyltucky.

(This just in from the wilds of the WorldWideInterWebNetz:  in queso trouble, pray to Cheezus.)

Speaking of pubic hair (what, you thought We forgot?), We trust you all enjoyed the remainder of your Picturing Allen And Kevin Naked Week.  This week is, as We told you Friday, Picturing Peter’s Peter Week.  Which would include, presumably, Picturing Peter’s Pubic Hair, unless there’s been some sort of bizarre manscaping incident.

(Note to Self:  ask Peter for his nom de pubes, and report back to Gentle Readers.)

Having spread all of THAT happiness around, Happy Columbus Day to the rest of all y’all.  How cool would it be to get a day named after yourself for “discovering” something that was there the whole time?  Like, if Peter walked into this room naked right now, We could “discover” his pubic hair.  Of course, Peter would have known his pubic hair was there the whole time.  So, naturally, We’d have to kill him off with syphilis. Then and only then could We plant Our flag in his pubic hair and claim it for Spain.

Why We don’t have a job teaching history to grade school students, we haven’t got any idea.

And here is the HorrorScope:

As if Columbus Day weren’t (subjunctively) enough excitement for one day, it is also Dwight D. Eisenhower’s birthday.  An occasion which We are about to make all the more special for you by uttering the phrase “Dwight D. Eisenhower’s pubic hair”.

You’re welcome.

One of your deeply-held ambitions comes closer to the surface today, (Is it just Us, or does that sound like it’s gonna hurt?)

and you’re happy as can be about that. (If you’re happy and you know it, give the natives the clap.)

Things are looking up for you, (Which, as We said just recently, is all fine and dandy, unless you’re a turkey in the rain.)

(Someone left my turkey out in the rain…I don’t think that I can take it, ‘cause it took so long to bake it…)

(Kiss Us quick, We’re Donna Summer.)

so just believe in yourself and all should work out for the best.  (How can We believe in Ourself when We know that We’re imaginary?)

A new person in your life is sparking some questions in your own mind — where are you going — how soon do you need to get there? (What if the Hokey-Pokey really IS what it’s all about?)

Answers won’t come easy, and they shouldn’t. (Oh, please.  These days, even the QUESTIONS don’t come easy.)

If they do, you’re probably just telling yourself what society expects of you. (Society shouldn’t hold its breath.)

So just let these questions simmer for a while (Alternatively, bake then at 350 for one hour.)

and don’t put too much pressure on finding an answer right now. (Why not?)

(Heh.  See what We did there?)

Sooner or later you will come to some conclusions that will give you a firm foundation (And, more importantly, a firm foundation garment.)

and a plan of attack.  (Plaque of a tan, caftan in black….there’s a joke in here somewhere, but We can’t get it out.)

Some new, amazing, compatible folks are almost certainly heading your way now, so keep your options open. (Our options are WIDE open.  Also, fully dilated.)

Don’t overlook people who could make awesome friends (Out of what?)

— they could also know the one for you. (Wait…there’s one for Us?  After all this not getting any?  We’ll believe that when We see it.)

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.

                                                                                                                                     

Oh, We wish We were (subjunctively) an Oscar Meyer™ wiener

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for TootsiePop, January 24, 2012.  Probably not many of you are up and reading this today, as you probably have the day off from work.  It being Ernest Borgnine’s ninety-fifth birthday, and all. We Our Own Self Personally will be whipping (ooooh!) through today’s e-pistle at breakneck speed so We can get a cake into the oven.  (Which sounds for all the world like a euphemism, but isn’t. (Meretricious prevarication, yes; euphemism, no.))  One can only imagine the preparations underway at Charlene Tilton’s house…

Naturally, being An Inquiring Mind Who Wants To know (no, really; Who wants to know?), We just felt compelled to Six-Degrees-Of-Kevin-Bacon Mister Borgnine and Ms. Tilton.  Turns out, they each have a Bacon number of TWO.  (You have a Bacon Number of TWO if you’ve been in a movie with someone who’s been in a movie with Kevin Bacon.  (You have a Bacon Number of ONE if you’ve been in a movie with Kevin Bacon your own self. (You have a Bacon Number of ZERO if you actually ARE Kevin Bacon.  Most people do not have Bacon Numbers of ZERO.)))

They also each have a reference number of TWO with regard to each other; that is, they have been in a movie with someone who has been in a movie with the other one, but have never been in the same movie together. (Many of you are no doubt mentally reviewing Ms. Tilton’s oeuvre, attempting to imagine her in a movie with ANYONE.  Apparently, you have never seen Problem Child 2.)

(All statistics in the preceding courtesy of http://oracleofbacon.org/.)

So, aspiring Hollywood screenwriters, the clock is ticking (SERIOUSLY ticking, in Mister Borgnine’s case)…this year’s Oscar™ nominees having just been announced, let’s see who can get a cinematic project  to the big screen in time for next year’s awards, starring Ernest Borgnine and Charlene Tilton.  With Adam Sandler as The Beaver.

Speaking of Oscars™, share Our fillum with your friends:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ovOtlxcnC50

(How was THAT for a goddamn segue?)

Also check out the other videos: http://www.youtube.com/user/RickinPhilly?feature=mhee

Meanwhile, We’ve got to be e-pistling along…Ernest Borgnine’s cake isn’t going to bake itself.  (That sounded like a euphemism too.  We think We’re gonna be sick.)  Heeeeere’s the HorrorScope:

Your goals are lofty — but that doesn’t mean they’re out of reach!  (Well, they are if they’re in the loft.  Because We don’t have a loft.  Duh.)

If anything, you may find yourself quite a bit closer to them by the end of the day, if your mental energy has any say!  (Yay, hooray!  Nanette Fabray!  (Kelli is apparently a poet, but she is unaware of it.))

It always pays to plan ahead — an upcoming journey or event will be much more enjoyable if you take a little bit of time to make sure you know where you’re going, how you’re going to get there, and what you’ll do once you arrive. (Party pooper.  (Where does that expression come from, anyway?  Do people actually go to parties and poop?  Did that used to be a thing, like back before wife-swapping and beer pong? (The WorldWideInterWebNetz are not helping Us sort this conundrum, although they have informed Us that the first recorded use of the phrase was in 1954.  It was the Eisenhower administration, college students were swallowing goldfish and cramming themselves into phone booths…One can well imagine that taking a poop in the middle of a party was all the rage.)))

 It will be fun figuring out the logistics of this outing, and after a few minutes online you’ll discover a neat option that you had never considered before. (Did she say “neat”?  What’s next, “keen”?  “Swell”?  “Ginchy”?)

If you are traveling with someone else, contact them as soon as you can to share your findings.  (If We were (subjunctively) travelling with someone else, wouldn’t they be right with Us?  What the fuck are you talking abou, Kelli?)

 It’s easy to forget what a unique individual you are. (We are unique, just like everybody else.)

Life tends to pound you into nameless, faceless submission, but it’s time to exert your freedom and independence. (That’s it…We’re gonna go poop in the middle of a party.)

Do at least one thing that defines your personality.  (Hmmm…perhaps We shall poop Our name in the snow.)

 If it’s a piece of flair, flaunt it proudly. (If it’s  a piece of poop, fling it poopily.)

 

(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.

Cat scratch fever

 Edited to add:  check THIS out!  We are the featured subject of today's Philly Fringe blog:  http://www.livearts-fringe.org/blog/index.cfm/2011/7/6/Philly-Fringe-Vital-Stats-Iris-Holcombe-Wedding-Consultant


Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Wenchday, July 6, 2011.  Happy Hump Day to AllOfYou.  Here at Casa de Chlamydia, We started Hump Day a little early.  At 3AM, to be exact.  Not that We were humping, mind you.  (But then, you knew that.  Unless you are the newest newbie that ever newbed. (Hmmm…Micro$oft Weird™ accepts “newbie” as word, but not “newbed”, which, no matter how much We pronounce it as “NOOb’d” in Our head, insists on parsing itself into “new  bed”.))  But We were awake from 3 to at least 6AM.  Unlike yesterday, however, We did ultimately go back to sleep.  The only difference between the two days?  That bitch Betty White.

Being well-rested when We finally arose, We were contemplating alternative means of accomplishing something at which We have been being thwarted by an appalling lack of consideration for Our Own Self as The Center Of The Universe when the old saying “there’s more than one way to skin a cat” occurred to Us.  Never One to accept such sayings at face value, it further occurred to Us that, actually, one way was probably more than sufficient, and why the hell would We want to skin a cat, anyway?  First off, this activity would no doubt piss off the cat, then, even if you were successful, all you’d have is a pile of cat skin and a pile of dead cat, and really, what’s the point of that, unless you run a Chinese restaurant?

Having had all of these scintillatingly brilliant thoughts before even consuming Our morning green tea, We then began reading email.  What kind of day can it possibly turn out to be when the Urban Word Of The Day is:

July 6: fuck

1. The universally recognized "F word" 
2. N. Implying complete and utter confusion 
3. N. a really stupid person 
4. V. To procreate 
5. adj. Can be used to modify any word for more passion 
6. Int. Expresses disgust 
7. Int. Expresses complete surprise and joy 
8. adv. Can be used to make a command more urgent

1. I do not accept the "F word" as your name 
2. What in the fuck? 
3. You stupid fuck! 
4. I suggest we go fuck in your mother’s bed while eating crackers and petting a cat named Mittens! 
5. This fucking guy was so fucking weird. He asked me if I was fucking insane. 
6. Aw, FUCK!! 
7. Holy fuck! You guys rock! 
8. Just fucking jump before I fucking kick you in the balls!

Needless to say, and yet promptly saying it anyway, if that is the Word Of The Day, We don’t expect We’ll get too many cats skinned.  Somebody’s soup is gonna be shy a won ton or two.

Meanwhile, We have left the following paragraph from yesterday intact, as no one saw fit to address it.  (Thank you, however, to those of you who commiserated with Us in Our perplexity at being resoundingly ignored.):

In equally boring news, could someone please have the courtesy to inform Us as to why everyone is so resoundingly ignoring Starzina’s Time Of The Month Horoscope: Cancer video http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p3cqsTuxavM  ? 

And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for: Shia LaBeouf’s buttocks.  Or, the HorrorScope:

Try not to make any sudden moves today (Indeed not.  You might startle the cat.  And then you’ll never get it skinned.  And THEN what will you stuff your steamed dumplings with?)

(Do vegetarians say “there’s more than one way to skin a cat”?  Because “there’s more than one way to peel a carrot” isn’t nearly as pithy.  Carrots being, ya know, relatively inanimate, and all.  Especially when compared with cats.  Particularly cats facing an imminent skinning.)

— accidents will be all too frequent for now, (That’s why We’re wearing Depends™.)

and you can mitigate the worst effects as long as you proceed at a judicious pace.  (Is it just Us, or does “Judicious Pace” sound like a character from some novel by some Victorian lady novelist that pretentious people pretend doesn’t suck?  “Judicious Pace lowered another log onto the fire as he pondered his response to the vicar’s inquiry.” (This book is boring Us already.))

Slow and steady wins the race.  (Perhaps.  But only if you’re racing with really stupid people.  Generally, FAST wins a race.  Just sayin’.)

Mixing business with romantic networking happens all the time, (Especially in a whorehouse.)

and you have someone in your mental file cabinet  (Then We ought to let him out, no?  Meanwhile, is it a metal mental file cabinet?  (Actually, We do have a mental file cabinet.  Which may or may not be metal.  Unfortunately, all it contains is a record of every stupid and/or humiliating thing We have ever done.  It pops open from time to time and starts spewing its contents, usually when We have just done something particularly stupid and/or humiliating, just in case We’re not already feeling bad enough.))

who may have an opportunity for you right now. (And you should see that Opportunity’s Knockers!)

(Opportunity Knockers is, of course, Judicious Pace’s bastard cousin, the dipsomaniac.)

 Be proactive, like the experts say, (Alternatively, be grammatical, AS the experts say.  Asshat.)

and push forward (Really?)

to build this casual contact into a real connection. (Why do We feel as though this paragraph should contain an “always wear a condom” warning?)

Building this relationship could pay off in a very big way — your life may be sent into a new direction. (We can see it now:  Catskinning Champion Of The Known Universe!  (Or at least Chinatown.))

Show them you have what it takes, (A really sharp knife?)

but try not to come on too strong. (Oh, please.  Nobdoy likes a wimpy catskinner.)

(Wimpy Catskinner is, as you will have no doubt surmised, Judicious Pace’s somewhat mentally challenged manservant, who is, unbeknownst to the parsimonious Mister Pace, having a clandestine affair with Opportunity Knockers.)

(This book practically writes itself.  Like most of Dickens.)

 Lead with your personality (Which one?)

 and just be yourself. (And again We say, which one?)

Is your dating profile up-to-date? (Oh, please. The last time We had a date, our boys were in Korea.  Ike was in Mamie.)

 Better, does it really reflect your true nature? (Or your true colors?  Or your fine washables?)

 Now is the best time to switch in a new pic, (Presumably of someone else.  Possibly Opportunity Knockers.  Prior, of course, to the ravages of consumption.)

spruce up the written description (Lie.)

or just tear it all down and build a new one from scratch. (Because there’s more than one way…)

(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.

I saw the sign and it opened up my mind

Greetings, Every Reverie Inevitably Collapses---

Here is your horoscope for Wednesday, July 28, 2010 (Happy Hump Day to all you humping humpers who hump. (Micro$oft Weird™ would have Us believe that “humpers” is not a word.  Clearly, Micro$oft Weird™ has never met Our friends.)):

(We have some VERY IMPORTANT NEWS about tickets for Christmas In July: Another Surprise Birthday Party for Jesus this Wednesday or Thursday, July 28^th or 29^th at 8PM at L’Etage.  If you show up at the door (which opens at 7:30) and mention Erix Daily Horoscope, you can see the show for just TEN DOLLARS!  Also, it is conceivable that We will have a drink with you afterwards.  Does it GET any better than that?  Yes, People, We have that power!)

(In other news, here is Jesus and His YouTube video.  It occurs to Us that perhaps We should share the URL rather than embedding it, thus making it easier for you to share with your friends: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BqkG2v1xZyQ  We would like to put Jesus on funnyordie.com, but We clearly don’t have the necessary support.  Sigh. )

 (Our Our-O-Scope:)

Though you may often prefer to tackle (“Tackle”?)

your own plans and projects first, today brings a chance to earn some serious karma by helping a friend or coworker before all else. (The way that they help Us, ya mean?  Yeah.  Hold your breath and wait for that one.)

(In other news, yesterday was a very good day. For several reasons.  One of which being, We are FINALLY scheduled to do Our voiceover demo.  Mind you, this is only four months after it should have been done in the first place, but still.  Just THINK of all the work We can be rejected for now!)

Go for it!  (Be fruitbats in multiplexes!  (Hey, it says that in the bible.  Which, if you listen closely to your religious wingnuts, was written directly by Gawd.  Why anybody else ever bothered writing a book thereafter is beyond Us, because, hello?  Gawd wrote a book.  Welcome to number one on the bestseller list for, like, EVER.  Fortunately, your religious wingnuts generally can’t read particularly well, not believing much in edumacation as they do, so other books are pretty much left for the rest of Us.))

When you’re in this kind of mood (Pissy?)

— totally in tune with others (Mmm-hmm.  Piss on ‘em.)

— there’s tons of people (Hey, We Our Own Self Personally are tons of people!  Watch it with the fat jokes, @sshat!)

who may try to take advantage of you, (What’s that old saying?  Oh, yeah…”You can’t rape the willing.”)

weird as that may seem. (Didja ever notice how, when EVERYTHING is weird, nothing seems weird anymore?  No?  Okay, maybe it’s just Us. Fu(kin’ weirdoes.)

You need to remember who’s in charge (Large Marge. DUH.)

and refuse to let it happen. (Mm-hmm.  THERE’S a whole lotta huffin’ and puffin’, all for naught.)

Ask all the questions you want — don’t be afraid of offending anyone! (Is that your real hair?  Do you always smell like that? Are you pregnant or just really fat?)

They’re not worried about offending you, after all. (Sing it, Sistah!)

It’s best for you to hang back a bit. (How ‘bout We bang hacks, instead?)

No one wants you to indulge in mind games, (And here We were, all ready to choose teams for a telepathic Parcheesi tournament.)

but you don’t have to lay your plans bare, either. (Oh, if there’s laying involved, it’s so much better to be bare.  Even WE remember THAT, and We haven’t been laid since Our boys were in Korea, and Ike was in Mamie.)

Keep your own counsel for now, and watch out for subtle signs. (Oh, yes.  We are All.  About.  The SuBtlety.)

(Your Euro-O-Scopes:

http://www.humorscope.com

cowgrass)