I’m too sexy for my shirt

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Wednesday, February 23, 2011.  Sorry to get everyone in such a lather so early in the morning with such a HAWT Erix Daily Horoscope Pixture Du Jour Au Jus Faberge Egg FooYung Guyz Wang Hung Lo Mein Street Stain Stays Mainly On De Plane Boss De Plane Who’s On Top Tonight Tattoo, but it is, after all, Hump Day, and We do, as ever, wish you all the happiest of humps. 

Speaking of pixtures, it occurred to Us that, while We reported yesterday on the subject of Justin Bieber’s barber’s butchery, We did not provide any corroboratorial pixturographic evidence.  So here:  http://www.csmonitor.com/The-Culture/Music/2011/0222/Justin-Bieber-cuts-his-hair-sending-legions-of-boys-to-the-barber .

The preceding paragraph is precedent-setting here at Erix Daily Horoscope for two reasons.  Number One: it is most assuredly the first-ever citing of The Christian Science Monitor as a reference in these particular epistles, and (B.) it employs the words “Justin Bieber” and “butch” in the very same sentence.

Oh, We know, We know; We can hear you all now, bleating, “Get off of Justin Bieber  already!”  And to both of you, We say, “Get off of him?  Why?  To give somebody else a chance? It IS Hump Day, after all.” (Now, no doubt, you’ll begin bleating about the underage thing.  Please.  The boy is turning seventeen on March 1^st.  Starzina says, if there’s grass on the field, play ball.  (We have no idea what that MEANS, but We surmise that it’s some sort of American sports metaphor.  From that game of yours, We’re pretty sure, that resembles cricket.)  Perhaps you are unaware of the upcoming remake of The Graduate, set to star none other than the aforementioned Mister Bieber and yours truly, Starzina Starfish-Browne.  “Are you trying to seduce me, Mrs. Starfish-Browne?” (Zombie Anne Bancroft just clawed her way out of her grave, a fact which was only cosmically balanced out by the fact that Dustin Hoffman just dropped dead.)

Meanwhile, We trust that one or another of Our Gentle Readers will prod Us (heh) to remember to send Mister Bieber birthday wishes along with an installment of Erix Daily Horoscope on March 1^st.  KThxBye.

In other show business news, We had the opportunity to attend a recent WaitStaff rehearsal for their show this Sunday at World Café Live.  Now, while We have never found Himself the least bit funny, We are always amused by the antics of the WaitStaff, particularly the Real Housewives of South Philly (who will naturally be making an appearance).  However, on this occasion, We also had the opportunity to watch the performances of the WaitStaff’s Very Special Guests for the occasion, Mister Dave Terruso of the sketch comedy group Animosity Pierre, and Miss Jaylene Dulap, a singer-songwriter, and We are here to tell you, this is going to be one funny evening.  So go get your tickets NOW; We’ll wait right here:  http://tickets.worldcafelive.com/eventperformances.asp?evt=1616 .

And now, the horoscope you’ve all been humping for.  Er, WAITING for.  Yeah, that’s it, waiting.

(Micro$oft Weird™ would like Us to know that We have misspelled “Er”.  Thanks, Micro$oft Weird™.  Have a cookie.  And share one with the Bieber.)

An uncomfortable situation this morning — maybe a face-off  (We would imagine that One’s face coming off would be, at the very least, uncomfortable.)

— could escalate if you let it, but you are far better off just walking away. (Renee.)

It’s one of those days that rewards discretion and prudence.  (To say nothing of dyspepsia and prune juice.  You cannot IMAGINE how it rewards THEM.)

(Since We have been waxing poetic in a number of recent installments of Erix Daily Horoscope, We feel compelled to point out that Dyspepsia and Prune Juice is a lesser-known, unpublished sonnet by Percy Bysshe Shelley.  (Please note that We said “waxing poetic”, not “waxing poets”.  Elsewise, you shall spend the rest of the day pixturing Us behaving improperly with Langston Hughes’s boner.))

(Now, of course, no matter how many times We say, “try not to think about Langston Hughes’s boner”, you will be able to think about nothing else for the rest of the day.  SorryBoutEt.)

 It’s a common misconception (Well, what’s the good of that?  If it’s a COMMON misconception, that means that ANYONE could have it.  We shall be striving for an IMMACULATE misconception.)

 that in order to really know what’s going on, (We?  Haven’t had any idea what’s going on since 1986.)

 you have to be right in the middle of the action. (Mm-hmm.  One wonders if they will get Simon and Garfunkel to write the score for Our fillum.  “Now here’s to you, Mrs. Starfish-Browne, Jesus loves you more than you will know…whoa-whoa-whoa…”)

What really gives you accurate insight is an outsider’s perspective; (Conversely, then, it should follow, as the night the day, that what really gives you accurate outsight is an insider’s perspective.  Although what the fu(k is “outsight”, We haven’t got any idea. (Converse™ sneakers, the most important thing is, how does it look from MC Escher’s perspective?))

(Meanwhile, We just have to share with you this definition for “outsight” that We found when We Googled it on Wikipedia:

outsight, n: A statement believed by the person who utters it to be an important or profound insight, but which is in fact regarded by its audience as so obvious or elementary that it reveals the speaker as hopelessly ignorant or slow-witted, at least relative to the relevant group.

…is that the story of Our very life, or what?)

only then can you see things from all angles and understand the motivations behind everyone’s actions. (Well, clearly the only response to that is: Langston Hughes’s boner.)

So today, don’t push to be a part of the action. (Push, push, in the bush. (Aw, dammit, WHO just said “if there’s grass on Bieber’s field, play with his balls”?  Now We’re gonna have to mental floss…))

 Just ride things out  (STOP IT!)

and observe.

Next time you’ll be the only one who will really know how to handle things (G0D DAMMIT!!!)

— and you’ll be invaluable.

(Langston Hughes’s boner, Langston Hughes’s boner, Langston Hughes’s boner.  (Oh, shit…We sure hope that doesn’t work like “Beetlejuice”…))

(O hai, Langston Hughes’s boner….)

If you’ve got any romantic business  (Wait a minute…are We paying the Bieber, or is he paying Us?  (Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio?  Joe-de-Joe has left and gone away…hey-hey-hey…hey-hey-hey…))

— especially communication tasks (Squirrelly synergistic zimblapp.)

— take care of it as early as you can today. (Hey, We’re getting this out before noon.  Cut Us some slack.  Or cut Us some slacks.  Whatevs.)

Later tonight, there’s some weird, somewhat uncomfortable energy on the move.  (Well, sure.  Zombie Anne Bancroft just tripped over Langston Hughes’s boner.)

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(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.

She is watching the detectives when they shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Tuesday, February 22, 2011.  Happy birthday to George Washington, who cannot tell a lie; he popped Martha’s cherry.  (Or at least that’s what she told him.)  Of course, it is relatively easy not to tell a lie when you are, ya know, dead.  Speaking of iconic historical figures, Mother Nature?  Is cordially invited to give blowjobs to Our pubic lice, but only the ones who have both herpes and gonorrhea with active, pustulent lesions. (In another era, We’d’ve been a renowned poet.  Like, say, Keats, or Shelley.  (In another era than that, We’d’ve been burnt at the stake.  You pays your money, and you takes your chances.))

Today’s Erix Daily Horoscope Pixture Du Jour Au Jus Edgar Allan Poe Jacques Cousteau Marilyn Monroe Don Pardo was submitted by Faithful Reader Dena (hi, Dena!).  On the off chance that We have a Faithful Reader who doesn’t know who Sisyphus is, you will need to Google “who is Sisyphus?” on Wikipedia in order to get the joke.  Alex Trebek, naturally, is laughing already, but then, he’s been laughing ever since “popped Martha’s cherry”.  Alex Trebek is crass.  He is, on the other hand, employed.  If We were (subjunctively) employed, by the T-shirt company of Today’s Pixture, say, We might tell them that they might sell more shirts if they hired more attractive models.  Seriously, what’s up with that double-chin action there?  Is this the president of the company or somefing?   Get some sun, Son.

In still other news, didja hear?  Justin Bieber cut his hair.  So now, a whole lotta lesbians who USED to look like Justin Bieber don’t look like Justin Bieber anymore.  It’s okay, though.  Because now a whole lotta NEW lesbians look like Justin Bieber.  So there’s that.  And, as a lesbian friend of Ours used to say, “Dip me in chocolate and throw me to the lesbians.”

Speaking of lesbians, We Our Own Self Personally have already been out to shovel the snow.  Surely you don’t imagine that Himself would bestir Himself from his bed to do it?  Too busy dreaming about grand pianos falling into the ocean, that one.  We would worry that he had lost his mind, but that would imply that he had ever found it in the first place.  By the time he actually arises, the damn snow will have no doubt melted, and he will trundle off to WaitStaff rehearsal.  (You DO all have your tickets for Sunday’s show, yes?  We have to pay for Our cat food around here somehow. (No, We don’t have a cat….that was the point. (http://tickets.worldcafelive.com/eventperformances.asp?evt=1616 )

And now, The Horoscope!  (If We (subjunctively) spoke Frawnch, We would imagine that last sentence sounding something like “Apres moi, les Splooge!” (This is why We are categorically barred from EVER speaking Frawnch.  If We so much as contemplate a poodle, they send the Frawnch Foreign Legion after Us.))

It would be remiss of Us not to note at this juncture that “Contemplate A Poodle” was Our nickname in high school.

Les Horoscopes (brought to you by Lays™ potato chips):

(Heh. See what We did there?  Betcha can’t eat Us just once.)

Keep a slower pace today — (Slow and steady wins the racist.)

you need to relax, if possible! (Then random interrobangs would seem to be counterproductive, no?)

Your energy  (Jigga WHAT?)

is better spent on planning and preparing than on acting anyway, (Oh, indeed.  God forbid We’d do any ACTING.)

so it may be a good time for you to work from home.  (We’ve always said, send Us a check every two weeks, and we’ll never bovver anybody again.)

Your instincts may be right (Somehow, We knew that.)

(Heh.  See what We did there?)

— there is something going on around you that you need to investigate further. (Trust Us….there is NOTHING going on.)

(It has just this very minute come to Our attention that today is apparently National Margarita Day.  We pass that on for what it’s worth.  But take it with a grain of salt.  (heh.))

Put on your private detective hat (By that, of course, you mean “deerstalker”, you ignorant illiterate imbecile.  “Private detective hat”, indeed!  Sir Arthur Conan Doyle is rolling in his grave.  (That, naturally, is a figure of speech.  They didn’t have designer drugs back in Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s day. (That was a little drug culture joke.  For Our Faithful Readers who are part of the drug culture.  Here at Erix Daily Horoscope, of course, We Just Say “No, Thank You” to drugs.  We would NEVER just say “No”, as We were raised properly, with manners, unlike that bitch of a Nancy Reagan.  ‘Just say “No”’, indeed!  Trailer trash.)))

and dig in to uncover the information you need. (There did used to be a time when We actually knew what was going on in here.  Unfortunately, that ship has sailed.)

Look back on some old emails for additional clues. (You mean all those ones that went unanswered?)

Once you get a better handle on what is going on, (Yeah.  ‘Cause THAT could happen.)

you’ll be able to see the big picture (Unless, of course Our ass is in the way.)

and decide whether you want to stay involved or not. (We’re not entirely sure We were ever volved in the first place.)

Be comfortable with taking a stand (We’d be much more comfortable taking a nice lie-down.)

— your principles are part of who you are, so protect them.  (To say nothing of Our princessiples.  Which are much LIKE Our principles, except they wear sparkly dresses and tiaras.  And really, isn’t everything just ever-so-much better when One is wearing a tiara? (That would be the seldom-cited “Tiara Princessiple” at work.))

(Hey, if you won’t even return Our phone calls or emails, We imagine you’re hardly likely to go to all the trouble of having involuntary commitment papers drawn up.)

You don’t really care (Why, no.  No, We don’t.)

about what others think of you these days. (Least of all about THAT.)

You may tell folks exactly what’s on your mind, (We would, but it’s a SECWET.  (Actually, We DO know something you don’t know, but if We tell you, We’ll have to kill you, and then there’d be only ONE person reading this.)

and you couldn’t pick a better time to set boundaries. (In just a moment, We’ll show you on the doll where Nancy Reagan touched Us.)

The power is all with you! (And also with you!  Spanx™ be to Gandhi!)

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

The WaitStaff will, at long last, be making its debut at Philadelphia’s premiere comedy club, Helium, with an 8PM show on Wednesday, March 16^th.  So come on out and get your pre-Saint Patrick’s Day drink on, as the WaitStaff presents an evening with The Real Housewives of South Philly.   (For those of you who saw the Fringe show, which was ENTITLED The Real Housewives of South Philly, please note that this is an ENTIRELY NEW and DIFFERENT show.  The WaitStaff just finds “Real Housewives of South Philly” to be a good marketing hook for people who haven’t seen them before.)

You can get your tickets for Helium here: https://www.seatengine.com/venue/helium-comedy-club/event/382

Check out the SitOnMyFaceBook event here: http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=166594253388281

Meanwhile, as those who read these pages religiously (ahem) are already aware, the WaitStaff will be presenting an evening of Smokin’ Hot Comedy to beat the winter blues on Sunday, February 27, at 7PM at World Café Live!  Our very special guests will be Dave Terruso of Animosity Pierre and Jaylene Dulap of Jaylene and the Judge.  The doors will open at 6PM, so you can come and have dinner and/or cocktails before the show (you can also have dinner and/or cocktails during the show, as long as you promise not to hurl any of it at the stage).

Get your tickets for World Café Live here: http://tickets.worldcafelive.com/eventperformances.asp?evt=1616

Visit the Virtual WaitStaff on the WorldWideInterWebNetz here: http://www.thewaitstaff.com or on SitOnMyFaceBook: http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=198525196831422

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.