It’s time to play the music, it’s time to light the lights…

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s! Daily! Horoscope! for GoodPieRupeeTuesday, September 24^st, 2013.

We just found out that it has been National Chicken Month all month, and none of YouPeople bothered to tell Us.

Meanwhile Happy Birthday to Mike, who turns twenty-four today, somewhere in The City That Loves You (On Your) Back, or its environs.  Happy Birthday also to Lurie, who also turns twenty-four today, somewhere in Greater Bostonia. Also too also, Happy Birthday to M Uppet, who also too also turns twenty-four today, here in The City Of Brotherly Love Handles.  He is made of felt and enjoys fisting, but We’re open-minded and non-discriminatory like that.

Micro$oft Weird™, in its infinite wisdom, put a blue squiggly line under “fisting” in the preceding, meaning that it imagines We have made an incorrect word choice, and that it would like to suggest a more appropriate word.  Before We looked at its suggestion, the only other word We could think of was “fasting”; as it turns out, Micro$oft Weird™’s suggestion was “fishing”.   Which makes a lot more sense, as many people do enjoy fishing, but who in the hell enjoys fasting?  (Look at your bracelet, Anna!)

We, however, stand by Our original “fisting”, as We are well-versed in Kermit and Miss Piggy and all that lot, and their peculiar proclivities.

That was a whole lotta crap about puppet sex.  Don’t get Us started on Shari Lewis and Wayland Flowers.

Speaking of things nobody told Us, We just found out that one day last week was National Talk Like A Pilates Instructor Day, and none of YouPeople told Us that, neither.

In other news, The Red-Headed Step-Child of the Philadelphia Theatrical Community has concluded the run of her show, so you will be spared entreaties to purchase tickets.  Also, despite efforts on the part of many to make her feel Less Equal Than Everybody Else, the bitch made her bank, so said show will be back to annoy you all shortly.

Thank you, meanwhile to all of those who came out and/ or supported Us.  We are already hard at work on the Kickstarter rewards.

Apropos of muffins, We have a pimple in the crook of Our elbow that makes it appear as if We have been shooting up heroin with a dirty needle.

And here is the HorrorScope:

Holy fucking crap!  All that Muppet shade We threw earlier, and it turns out to be Jim Henson’s birthday!  We had no idea!  Mayhaps We actually ARE psychic!

An email brings some strange — but welcome — news today, possibly tonight. (Seriously?   Does anybody ever get personal emails anymore?)

You may find that you need to stick with electronic communication today if you want to get anything done.  (Mmm-hmm.  Because the WorldWideInterWebNetz don’t waste Our time at all.)

You’re no angel  (Hell no…We is da Debbil.)

(Where’d THAT come from?)

(Your mother sews socks in hell.)

— especially when your fabulously mischievous side comes out to play.  (Okay, on a scale of One to Gay, how Gay is “fabulously mischievous”?  We’re thinking pretty much Paul Lynde painting watercolors of Charles Nelson Reilly fucking Liberace in a feather boa while lying in a field of pansies listening to Judy Garland singing opera.)

Naughtiness is the name of the game, (Well, so much for that Parcheesi plan.)

and you’re the grand master when it comes to making up the rules — and breaking them later on.  (Well, you know what they say:  Mercedes Ruehl was a maid in Hoboken.)

That’s the whole point of being contrary, right?  (We are not merely contrary.  We are Mary Mary QUITE contrary.)

(Heh. “Mercedes Ruehl was a maid in Hoboken.”  We kill Us.)

Fortunately, you know exactly how to turn your naughtiness from a vice into nice, especially when it comes to romance.  (We can also, for future reference, turn mice into lice, dice into rice, and the Spice Girls into Diet Slice™.)

(Okay, how many of you old farts remember Slice™?  (Specifically, Diet Apple Slice™ and rum…mmmmmm…..))

For once, you’re not tongue-tied. (But are We fist-fucked?)

Let your talent for communication do all the work. (Are. We. Fist-fucked?)

Open, easy communication is sure to clear up any misunderstandings that could get in the way of a true connection. (You mean a RAINBOW connection, riiiiight?)

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!)

*****************************************************************************

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.

                                                                                                                                     

Never mind the bollocks

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s! Daily! Horoscope! for WinesDay, July Tenf, Twenny Tirteen. Happy Birthday to Lizzy, who turns twenty-four today right here in The City Of Brotherly Love Handles.  Also, Happy Birthday to Vicki, who also turns twenty-four today, albeit in MaryLand, which We’ve discussed before.  (That is, We’ve discussed Maryland before, not Vicki’s twenty-fourth birthday.  Try to keep up.

(Herewith, for the benefit of any newbies in da house, is Our previous MaryLand discussion:

{Insert WayBack Machine sound effects here.}

Maryland, We have just been informed by Wikipedia, was named after somebody called Queen Henrietta Maria, who, upon being informed of said naming, is reported (possibly spuriously) to have said, “Yo, bitches…my name is Henrietta Maria…wuzzup wit’ dis “Mary Land” shit?  Why not HenriettaMariaLand?”  She made further remarks involving Queen Latifah and Finland, but, as Queen Latifah had not been born yet, and “HenriettaMariaLand” would never fit on a license plate, no one paid any attention to her.

(Mary had a little land, whose feet were shy a toe, and every day, for merriment, she slept with Jacques Cousteau.  (We have no idea where that came from.  Nursery rhymes are peculiar, no?))

{Insert reverse WayBack Machine sound effects here.}

))

And, last but not Lee Strasberg, après les digression, Happy Birthday to Loretta, who also turns twenty-four today, right here in The City That Loves You (On Your) Back.

(It should be pointed out, for clarity and editorial accuracy’s sake, that Loretta is not the same person as LOretta, who has been mentioned in these e-pisstles before.  Even though they have now both turned twenty four at least once.  It strikes Us as slightly peculiar that We know two people named Loretta (well, technically, one person named Loretta, and one person named LOretta), and that they are both women, which adds to the confusion.  Of course, if We were (subjunctively) to travel in loftier show business circles, We might be acquainted with both Loretta Lynn and Loretta Swit, who have both now turned a hundred and seventeen at least once.  So there’s that.)

We also seem to recall having mentioned recently that, if We live to be twenty-four, We will never understand people.  Said lack of understanding continues apace.

You will be happy to note that We continue to procrastinate writing Our Fringe show.  Although it DOES have a title: Looking for Uranus: Starzina Starfish-Browne’s Comeback Tour.  How, you may well ask, can We come back, when We’ve never been gone?  You’ll have to see the show, to see if We’ve figgered that out.

In other other news, as you can see,  Our latest video, Starzina’s Time of the Month Horoscope: CANCER 2013 is above. 

If you’ve been paying attention (oh, relax; We know you haven’t), you will note that this is the fourth installment in a (so far) four e-pissode story arc.  Because We’re a writer like that, and stuff.

We would like you to take this link to said video   http://youtu.be/e-EpBAfem_M and email it to your friends.  Or put it on their SitOnMyFacebook pages.  Or, if they are having a Cancer birthday, wish them a happy birthday with it.  Seriously, people…is this so difficult?

And here is the HorrorScope:

As We went to Our celebrity birthday source this morning, it occurred to Us that it would be very bizarre if today turned out to be Loretta Lynn or Loretta Swit’s birthday.  Or, even bizarrer, if it turned out to be Loretta Lynn AND Loretta Swit’s birthday.

It didn’t.

So Happy Birthday, Sofia Vergara.

You’re feeling even more impulsive than usual today,

(This would seem to be an excellent place for a random Sid Vicious music video:

(Whaddaya mean, “impulsive”?))

so expect some wild times as you frolic and jump from fun and games to serious silliness.  (If that sentence were (subjunctively) any gayer, it would be Charles Nelson Reilly dressed up as Liberace fistfucking Paul Lynde in a pansy patch while Judy Garland sang opera.)

Your people may not be able to keep up with you!   (Again with this delusion that We have people.)

A former romantic partner might be reappearing on the scene soon, (So, wait…people can come back from the dead?!?)

 and the feelings they stir up won’t be the ones you were expecting to feel. (Zombies have that effect on Us.  Go figger.)

They’ve taken the initiative to get back into your life, and there could be a very significant reason for it. (BRAAAAAAIIINNNSSSS!!!!)

Aren’t you curious to know what that is? (No.)

(Didn’t see THAT coming, didja?)

Give them some of your time, but not all of your time. (At least she didn’t say, “Give them a piece of your mind”.  ‘Cause We have so few pieces left.)

Make it clear that you have boundaries that you have no intention of changing for them — at least not yet.  (Also, We’ve been wearing Our Tuesday panties since AT LEAST last Tuesday.)

You need to direct your efforts toward your work or home life today. (Well, THAT narrows it down.)

You can get plenty done, and focusing hard should feel good (That’s what she said.)

— but tonight, and over the next few days, your energy favors romance.  (Oh, great.  Once We expend all that energy blowing up the doll, We’re gonna be EXHAUSTED.)

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!)

*****************************************************************************

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.

                                                                                                                                     

When you believe in things that you don’t understand, then you suffer

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s! Daily! Horoscope! for  Friday, May Turd, Twenny-Turdteen.  Happy Birthday to Deborah, who turns twenty-four today.  Also, Happy Birthday to Larry, who also turns twenty-four today.  Also also, Happy Birthday to Shelita Buffet, who also also turns twenty-four today.  All right here in The City Of Brotherly Love Handles.  (Well, Shelita Buffet is actually in Chest Wester, but close enough.)

Belatedly, Happy Belated Birthday to OurAmericanCousin Chris, Elaine, Izzy, Pat, and Robb, each of whom turned twenty-four yesterday.  For a Grand Total of a hundred and twenty.  That’s eight hundred and forty in dog-years. Or, as We call them around these parts, “bitch-years”.

We missed all of those birthdays yesterday because We were absent from Bloggonia.  Oh, We’re fine.  No, really.  But thanks for asking.  The chirping crickets were a nice touch.

We have Precious Little to report.  (We feel as though We say that all the time, but a quick tiptoe through the tulips of Our archives shows that We have only employed said phrase eleven times before.  (Or, as Precious Little would say, “elebben”.)  Here is the most notable vintage occurrence:

“We have Precious Little to report.  Precious Little being, naturally, Chicken Little’s gay brother.  Who was totally fabulous, until the Skyy™ fell.  Apparently, no one ever taught him the old maxim, don’t cry over spilt vodka.  Precious little was heard of Precious Little after that, despite the ascent to stardom of his (and Chicken Little’s) older brother, Rich Little.  Who became famous for doing Paul Lynde.  Well, doing impressions of Paul Lynde.  He may or may not have done him, also.  Precious Little certainly would have, but he and Rich Little didn’t travel in the same circles much after The Frank Gorshin Incident.

(See how We just made something out of nothing there?  Stayed tuned, as later on, We shall being turning chickenshit into chicken salad.)”

Whatever would We do without The WayBack Machine to brighten up an otherwise dull e-pisstle to the E-phesians with a-phasia?

In other news, We had dinner last night at Good Dog, which is a very oddly-put-together bar and restaurant on 15^th Street, with the steepest staircases in the known universe.  We had never been there before, and, if any Gentle Reader could tell Us what the building was before it was Good Dog, We’d appreciate the history lesson.   Based on the staircases alone, We would be willing to bet on some nefarious goings-on in this building’s past.

Our WorldWideInterWebNetz had told Us prior to Our visit that We should try their award-winning Good Dog Burger, and since We do everything The Voices tell Us to do, We did.  It was indeed a delicious burger, although We were completely unenamored of the bun.   Fortunately, Our dinner companion had world-class lovely buns to make up for it.

Micro$oft Weird™ would have Us believe that “unenamored” is not a word’ but offers no suggestions for its replacement.  Nonenamored?  Antienamored?  Disenamored?  Armie Hammer (speaking of buns)?  We got nothin’.

 Attention, SitOnOurFaceBook friends:  We?  Do not play Farmville.  Are you fucking retarded?  How many fucking requests to shove a fucking rutabaga up your fucking stupid assholes do We fucking have to ignore before you fucking GET that We?  Do. Not. Play. Farmville.  Jeebus.

Well.  We feel much better now.  We love the smell of fucking rutabaga assfuckers in the morning. (That there is a fillum quote.  From Asspocalypse Now.)

Speaking of people with tuberous vegetables in their rectum (rectum?  We nearly  KILLED ‘em! (Why is this new paragraph making Us think of Michael Douglas and Matt Damon in that new Liberace movie?)), as you can see above, We have released Our new Starzina’s Time of the Month Horoscope:  Taurus video.  Here is the link with which you will share it with your friends, enemies, frenemies, enemists, and frenulums:

http://youtu.be/iGNw4zF7MSs

Also, for those of you who like cups of tea, and history, and someone in a tree, here is last year’s Taurus video for comparison:

(Did anyone notice that all of the preceding was a rerun?  That’s what you get for sending crickets to inquire after Us when We go missing.  Next time, send Lassie.  For all you know, We could have fallen down the well like that mongoloid idiot of a Timmy. (Or like the pussy in “Ding Dong Bell”.  (Or like Timmy’s Dong in Belle’s pussy for the Ding, Ba-Da-Bing, that’s-what-she-said.)))

(Didn’t see that last bit coming, didja?)

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

Speaking of Bing, it is Bing Crosby’s birthday.  He is, however, dead, so don’t expect cake.  Also, when We went spelunking for celebrity birthdays, We came across this tidbit of disinformation (of which We are unenamored):

NOAH MUNCK 17

Plays the frequently-shirtless Gibby on iCarly.

We have no idea what any of those words mean.  (Oh, dear lord, We just Googled Mister Munck on Wikipedia…someone get the mental floss, the brain bleach, and a rusty grapefruit spoon with which to remove Our eyeballs.)

You’re a born leader, (Also, We are a rebel.  And We’ll never, ever be. Any good.)

even if you rarely exercise that talent. (Wethinks you’ve misplaced your period, Kelli.  (“Wethinks” is, of course, “methinks” using The Royal We.  (Vagina jokes are never funny.  Period.)))

Today brings you an opportunity (With ENORMOUS knockers.)

to step up and take charge when your people get confused, so be ready to save the day!  (Kiss Us quick, We’re Mighty Mouse.  Or Modest Mouse.  One of those.)

Don’t be afraid to step up and take on a new responsibility or two today.  (When you walk through a storm, hold your haddock high, and don’t be afraid of Dick Clark.)

Adding a few more ambitions (We keep telling you: it’s “amBITCHins”.)

to your life is not an invitation to failure. (Well, good.  Because We would definitely have to send regrets.)

(See what We did there?  That there was one of those existential jokes.  You can tell, because it wasn’t funny.)

Sure, you won’t be able to reach every goal for yourself.  (You go, Knute Rockne.)

(We’ll take “Things You Never Expected To See In An Eric’s!Daily!Horoscope!” for $500, Alex.)

But the more goals you do set, the better your odds are for reaching at least one of them. (So, according to this theory, if We attempt to sleep with the entire Swedish Olympic Men’s Swim Team, We should get to bang at least one of them.  Nice.)

You can’t think in complete terms — right now, close enough is good enough.  (Okay, Kelli.  Stand over there while We throw these horseshoes at your head.)

Being perfect is never possible, (And, oddly enough, being imperfect is never impossible, so it all works out.)

but that should not stop you from trying to be better than you are right now. (Wait…it gets better than THIS?!?)

Any plans you make today should have some extra mojo behind them, (Eating FroYo in slo-mo at the HoJo’s next to the dojo…nope, We got nothin’.)

so why not shoot for the stars? (Because there’s a seven-day-waiting period for a gun.)

Send out a few hot invitations, slap together a few parties or just ask that one cutie (Patootie?)

out for real.  (Fo’ shizzle my nizzle.)

(What?)

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!)

*****************************************************************************

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.