OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-klahoma

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s! Daily! Horoscope! for ThurstonHowellTheThirdsDay, May 16, 2013.  Happy Birthday to Jon, who turns twenty-four today right here in The City That Loves You (On Your) Back.  Happy Birthday also to Davy, who also turns twenty-four today, also right  here in The City That Loves You (On Your) Back.  Also Happy Birthday also to Greg, who also also lhasa apso turns twenty-four today, also also lhasa apso right here in The City That Loves You (On Your) Back.

Who let the dogs in?

(Greg is actually turning twenty-four in somewhere called “Morrisville”, but since We’ve never heard of such a place, and since, when We Googled it on Wikipedia, the first reference referred to it as “a quaint little burrow…er, borough”, We have decided that it’s all Fluffya to Us.)

Yesterday, you will recall, We gave away an entire Fringe show concept, because We’re magnanimous and altruistic like that (We’ll pause here to give those of you who may have missed yesterday’s e-pissode a chance to scurry on back and snatch it up: http://ericsdailyhoroscope.blogspot.com/2013/05/hey-its-me-i-rode-short-bus.html (Heh...We said “snatch”.  (Chicks who fuck with geese better scurry, lest We learn that their snatches are furry…(Kiss Us quick, We’re Roy Rogers and Dale Hammerstein.))))

What the hell were We talking about?  Oh, yeah…yesterday, We gave away an entire Fringe show concept. Today, We have substantially less to give away.  Just a new catch phrase, derived from the well-known “Johnny-on-the-spot”.  It leapt unbidden into Our head earlier, and We can think of nothing to do with it Our Own Self, so here it is, up for grabs, for YouPeople to take its balls and run with them: “Johnny-on-the-twat”.

In more high-brow news, last night We watched Barbra Streisand and Seth Rogen in The Guilt Trip. Which, while certainly enjoyable, was not nearly as funny as We had hoped it would be.  They do play off of each other beautifully, but, when We were not pondering The Work Miss Streisand Has Had Done, We couldn’t help but thinking that they’d already made this movie. With Debbie Reynolds and Albert Brooks.  We can’t remember what it was called, and We can’t be arsed to look it up, but tell Us in the comments below if you remember this fillum…

Speaking of box where a snatch oughta be (We cannot believe no one has commented on that yet):

http://youtu.be/iGNw4zF7MSs

And now the HorrorScopes:

It is a veritable grab-bag of celebrity birthdays today, what with Liberace, Olga Korbut, Tori Spelling, and Janet Jackson’s left nipple all having been born on the same day.  This had BETTER mean cake.

Your active mind is driving you in a bold new direction (Is it driving Us in a surrey with the Fringe on top?  Chinks and dykes and gooks better scurry…)

— and you think you may like it a lot!  (Ya know what We like a lot?  We have an extra day of murder this week.  Tonight.  For thirty-eight “middle schoolers”.  What the fuck is a “middle schooler”?  How old is that, twelve?  Jeebus Cripes.)

See if you can push yourself along in this new fashion for a while longer before taking stock.   (Mercifully, there are only thirty-eight of the little fuckers.  The last chirrens show that happened (the one We cleverly avoided, on Our very birthday, no less) there were something like a hundred and seventy-elebben.)

 Your social life is starting to generate some real heat!  (Well, sure, ever since We figgered out how to rub two Boy Scouts together to start a fire.)

Make sure that while you are booking all those upcoming events in your calendar that you keep things diverse  (Also, perverse.)

— save as much time for cultural events as you save for shopping, checking out a new hot spot, or any other kind of social endeavor.   (We’re sorry, but “endeavor” doesn’t sound like any kind of a good time.)

You need to keep feeding your mind during your free time — it can’t all be about instant gratification.  (Minute™ Rice takes too long.)

Museums, galleries, lectures, and even quiet reading time are important, too.  Entertaining “middle schoolers”, not so much.)

Drop it (Drop it like it’s snot.)

if you’re worried about the competition — no one’s got anything on you right now.  (Trust Us, We know.)

If that hottie seems uninterested in your game, that just means they’re not playing at the same level. (Or possibly they’re in an entirely different surrey.  Without any Fringe on top.  A bald surrey, if you will.  A surrey with a Brazilian on top.  You know Brazil:  where the waxed nuts come from.  (EEEEEEE-YOWWWWWW!!!!))

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.

                                                                                                                                     

Take. On. Me. Take. Me. On.

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Thurzdet, March 29, 2012.  That there was the Frawnch spelling, as in “ballet” and “bidet”.  Not to be confused with Tori Spelling, doing ballet in the bidet. Which would be a whore of another scullery.  Which is similar to a horse of another color, but charges by the hour.

Now that We’ve cleared THAT up, didja know that if you took all the blood vessels in your body and laid ‘em end to end, you’d die?  We just learned that on the WorldWideInterWebNetz this morning.  Meanwhile, if you took all the sorority girls in the country and laid ‘em end to end, nobody would be a bit surprised.  Thank you, Dorothy Parker.

We should just throw in the towel and devote the rest of today’s e-pissode to Dorothy Parker quotes.  Clearly, all her mots were bon, whereas all Our matzoh balls. (Dorothy Parker would never have said that.  In fact, she would most likely have had no idea what the hell We were talking about, and she probably would have smacked Us.  Fortunately, she’s dead.)

And We are off, once again, frantically turning chicken shit into chicken salad…

Go look at Our latest video:  http://youtu.be/jy65nirv_BM 

Here are some things on which to click, should you mayhaps have an itchy clicky finger.  Or an achy breaky heart.  Or a penchant for saying “mayhaps” while wearing assless chaps and playing craps. (You think THAT’S bad?  We tried but failed to work “Pap smear” into that sentence.  Orange you glad We didn’t say banana?)

And here is a HorrorScope:

You need to deal with a situation that is somewhat imposing  (Nobody expects the Spanish Imposition!)

— but your mental energy lets you handle it in a way that impresses all the right people. (Kiss Us quick, We’re Uri Geller!)

Make it look easy and you can move forward quickly.  (Nothing is as easy as We are.  Now if only someone would give Us an opportunity to prove it.)

If you’re keeping your thoughts to yourself (We have no thoughts.)

because you think it will prevent arguments, (Are not.)

(Heh.  See what We…oh, never mind.)

don’t bother. (Could We get a T-shirt that says that?)

Because if you speak up and unleash your more opinionated side, (Wait…We have a LESS opinionated side?!?)

you will see some dramatic results. (Hedda Gabler.)

(That was a little Ibsen joke.  For Our Ibsen joke fan readers.  Where the hell else are ya gonna get an Ibsen joke?  Henrik Ibsen, Henry Gibson….it’s a fucking Norwegian laugh riot in here.)

The people around you right now not only want to know what you think, they want to discuss it with you. (Good thing they’re all imaginary.  (We do everything the voices in Our pants tell Us to do.))

Get ready to talk about complex issues, (People who live in complexiglass houses shouldn’t get stoned.)

(What?)

and let your personal feelings guide your argument. (Also, let your pages do the walking through the yellow fingers.)

Lead with your opinions, but close the argument with facts.  (Well, alright, but if We’re gonna argue with Ourself, We’d better at least win.)

You may be turning your energy to household matters, but your heart and mind are busily processing what’s been going recently in other areas. (Sounds like all of Our multiple personalities have multiple personality disorders.  Pity the poor waiter who gets Our table.)

Prepare for an ‘a-ha!’ moment regarding your love life. (Apparently, the 80s band A-ha was also Norwegian.  So there is a theme.  Shut the front door, Nora!)

(That was another Ibsen joke.  But you knew that.)

 

 (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.

Livin’ on a prayer

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Money, September 12, 2011.  (Your heart just skipped a beat as you imagined that We were going to start CHARGING for this, didn’t it?  Really, Ducks…We can barely GIVE it away.)  Happy birthday to Robin, who turns twenty-four today.  In San Francisco.  A city which We have never visited and which, consequently, always makes Us think of Rice-A-Roni™.  Which has never been the same since they took the slivered almonds out of their Fried Rice-A-Roni™.  Le sigh.  Naturally, all of this intense cerebral activity caused Us to go a-Googling on Wikipedia to discover why, in fact, Rice-A-Roni™ is “the San Francisco treat”. Here, for those Inquiring Minds amongst you, is what We learned: http://www.straightdope.com/columns/read/1558/why-is-rice-a-roni-called-the-san-francisco-treat

We shall pause here for a moment to give you a chance to recover from all of that mental exercise.

Speaking of The Wedding Consultant, you have only five more chances to see it, beginning this Wednesday, and There Will Be Consequences if you do not.  Here is Our Inquirer review:  http://www.philly.com/philly/blogs/phillystage/Review-The-Wedding-Consultant.html   We are particularly taken with the phrase “surprisingly butch”; We are thinking of having T-shirts made.  Tickets for the epic in question are available here: http://ticketing.theatrealliance.org/sites/livearts/details.aspx?id=19622 ; get ‘em while they’re HAWTT. 

But enough about Us…what do YOU think about Us? You, meanwhile, should all be pea green with envy (that phrase, for those cunning linguists amongst you, is derived from an obscure phrase from the 70s, “peeing green on Bert Convy”, which allegedly involved some extracurricular antics that took place during commercial breaks on The Match Game) that We were amongst the fortunate few who got to see the closing night performance of Tribe of Fools’ Heavy Metal Dance Fag at the Fringe. Ordinarily, We wouldn’t wax poetic over some show that has closed that no one will have a chance to see. Because there’s nothing We hate worse than a waxy poet.  But Our inside information tells Us that, because the show was so successful, they will be bringing it back, and We wanted you forewarned to snatch up tickets as soon as they become available. (Heh. We said “snatch”.)  In addition to the amazing dances, of which you will have heard if you have heard anything about the show, performed by the hottest cast in the history of hotness, the show features a heartfelt, literate, and yet side-splittingly funny script, and five brilliantly-crafted performances.  Which is fortunate, because otherwise, they’d all be totally upstaged by the costumes.  Watch this space for news of their return engagement, and, once We announce it, run, do not walk.

But first, come see The Wedding Consultant.  (Hey, We can only talk about Not Us for so long…We have Attention Defici…oh, look, a balloon!)

And now for something completely different: a lost reel from the 1968 film, Where Angels Go, Truffles Follow:

And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for: giving Ernest Borgnine a sponge bath.  Alternatively, the HorrorScope:

Your dreams are quite telling tonight, (Well, you know what They say:  better quite telling than Tori Spelling.)

so do your best to remember them. (If only We could DVR Our dreams…We would be rich, We tell you, rich.)

Keep paper or a voice recorder by your bed so you can take notes, (Somehow, We had managed to live this long without ever hearing the term “voice recorder”.  Which is apparently what they are called now that there are no longer tapes involved. (And don’t act like you’re smarter than We are just because you already knew that…you probably do NOT know that they are also called “the San Francisco treat”.))

(It just occurred to Us that, if We were (subjunctively) a hooker in San Francisco, We would have to refer to Ourself as “the San Francisco treat”.  Which, naturally, led Us to Google “San Francisco treat” on Wikipedia to see if it had ever been used in a non-A-Roni™-related way.  WARNING:  Do NOT try that at work.  Trust Us; you do NOT want to know.)

(We shall pause here, while you all neglect to heed Our warning.)

(See?  We TOLD you.)

and see what it all means as you drink your coffee.  (Does anyone remember how this sentence started?)

Where has all the time gone? (Jim Croce has it in a bottle.)

 It seems as though the last few weeks have flown by, and today you might find yourself wondering if that time could have been put to better use than it was. (Yes.  We could have called Our show Heavy Metal Wedding Consultant Fag.)

Regrets are silly things to have, (Non, je ne regrette rien.  (In keeping with today’s Rice-A-Roni™ theme, that was a little Edith Pilaf.))

(We would regret saying that, but you just told Us that that would be silly.)

so just try to focus on making your future better. (But it’s so much easier to make the past better.  All you have to do is lie.)

Start by being more available to the people around you. (Trust Us; We are wide open.)

When you help others, you truly do help yourself. (Oh, go needlepoint a sampler.)

There is no way that coming to someone’s rescue could ever be a waste of time.  (Oddly enough, people seem to hate it when We stop them on the street and try to give them mouth-to-mouth.)

You’re totally enthusiastic about a new week (Indeed.  If We had pom-poms, We would cheer.)

because you know the possibilities are endless. (“Endless” is such a frightening word.)

Choose a goal that focuses on your overall improvement. (Didn’t We just have this discussion about goalies last week?)

Make sure it’s something you really want, not just words that sound good on paper. (Words cannot “sound good on paper”, you illiterate knobgobbler.)

 (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.

So sweet and soft and gentle, my favorite Oriental

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s Daily Horoscope for Whiskey, August 4, 2011.  Happy birthday to Monica, who turns twenty-four today.  And We do hope and pray that Our absence yesterday did not cause any of you to fail to celebrate National Grab Some Nuts Day, which was yesterday, and We wish you a Happy Belated One, and hope all your nuts were well and truly grabbed.  (We just report ‘em, folks, We don’t make ‘em up. (If you don’t believe Us, Google “National Grab Some Nuts Day” on Wikipedia and see.))  And, though it pales by comparison, Happy Hump Day, or, perhaps, this week, Happy Grab Some MORE Nuts Day.

(Speaking of senility, which We actually do later, but We just came back here because it was the most convenient spot and We can time travel like that, because We have a time machine, which is in the credenza, which, as luck would have it, is in the time machine, it just occurred to Us that it is not Whiskey at all but Thirsty, and thus, Our Hump Day wishes are belated as well, and National Grab Some Nuts Day and Hump Day were actually the same day.  However, We refuse to let rectumtude interfere with the brilliance that was the preceding paragraph, so We’re letting it stand.)

Suddenly, We cannot remember the word for “fear of heights”.  Senility is not for pussies.  We know that “agoraphobia” is fear of going outside, and “angoraphobia” is fear of going outside wearing a sweater, and “claustrophobia” is fear of clusterfucks.  We know that “phobophobia” is fear of Franklin Delano Roosevelt and fear itself, and “aibohphobia” is fear of palindromes, and We just made up “onomatopoeiaphobia”, which is fear of spelling bees, But damned if We can remember what fear of heights is.  But, whatever it is, We haz it, and would very much like to stop having dreams in which We are trapped on the tops of very tall buildings and forced to crawl along gutters and ledges.  KThxBye.

(Apropos of nothing, We also just made up “onomatopoeiacideophobia”, which is fear of killer spelling bees.  Or spelling killer bees.  Or killing Tori Spelling.  One of those.)

So.  Franklin Delano Roosevelt, and Tori Spelling.  Not only in the same horoscope, but now in the same sentence.  Well, sentence fragment.  But still.  Never let it be said that We do not have catholic tastes.  Why, We tasted many a Catholic back in the day.  We were an altar boy, after all. (It was a Shakespearean cross dressing sort of thing.  Plus We couldn’t resist the joke. (We are striving for a second joke, involving Wishbone™ Cross Dressing, but We fear failure is imminent.  Despite the thought of throwing Paul Newman into the mix, which just occurred to Us.))

Next year’s Fringe, We’re gonna bag all this rehearsing crap and just take people on an hour-long tour of Our mind.

Speaking of the Fringe, have you got your tickets for the hottest show in this year’s Fringe Festival yet?  Here at Casa de Clambake, We are working Our fingers to the very boner (ahem) on this show.  Why, tomorrow morning, We are dragging Himself’s ass out of bed at 8AM to meet with the costume designer.  Which is mostly a moot point, because nobody makes Spanx™ that big.  But whatevs.  In case We have been unclear on this subject, Himself will be bringing back his marriage equality one-man show, The Wedding Consultant, from September 2-18, at the Walnut Street Theatre Independence Studio on 3. Needless to say (and yet promptly saying it), you are all expected to attend. Especially those who didn’t so much show up last time.  And yes, We have kept records.  Drop by on SitOnMyFaceBook here:  http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=187844157946759

Watch this video, or tomorrow, We’ll post pictures of Himself in his foundation garments:

And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for: Tori Spelling’s reinterpretation of the “Day That Will Live In Infamy” speech.  Accompanied by Paul Newman on the onomatopoeia, and Franklin Delano Roosevelt on the wheelchair.  Or, the HorrorScope:

Today is perfect for pouring on the charm (Always after me fuckin’ charm…it’s massively suspicious.)

and seeing if you can get your way through friendly means. (What about getting Our means through weaselly friends?  Or getting Our friends through menial ways?  Why, the possibilities are limitless.)

 It’s all too easy to bluster your way to success, (Sez YOU.)

but why waste the energy if you don’t have to?  (Oddly enough, that’s exactly what it says on the front of Our panties.)

 If a friend or loved one has been acting out of character, today is a good day to try to find out what’s on their mind. (Do We have to pretend to care?)

Be very careful not to push them too hard on it — just let them know you’re ready to listen if they’re ready to talk. (Wait…there’s a time when WE’RE not the one talking?!?)

They’ll appreciate the fact that you care and the fact that you respect them enough to listen. (And just think of how much more they’ll appreciate the fact that We bother to expend the energy to PRETEND to care, and PRETEND to listen.  Why, We may end up being crowned queen.)

But don’t take it personally if they choose not to confide in you. (Hey, as long as there are snacks.  Will there be snacks?)

It might be too soon, or it might be something they need to figure out on their own.  (Well, bugger off then.)

You’re feeling stuck somehow  (Actually, not so much.)

— don’t hesitate to talk it out. (Um…okay.)

(Heh. See what We did there?)

Someone unattached, even an acquaintance is a great option. (So, basically, We’re one step away from hiring a hooker.)

Stick with the facts (Ma’am.)

and stay out of the emotion. (On the other hand, c’mon, baby, do the locomotion.)

(Everybody’s doin’ a brand new dance now…oh, sorry; is that stuck in your head now?  Too bad, so sad, anal sex with your dad.)

You’ll articulate your feelings more clearly without the mental muck. (Aaaand right away We have the protagonist of Our next children’s book, Dental Duck.  (Having rejected Rental Truck as too boring, Lentil Luck as too Chinese, and Gentle Fuck as a whole different genre of litty-choor.))

 (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.