Just Two Men Who Do Si Do

Just Two Men Who Do Si Do

Hello, Ducks!

Starzina Starfish-Browne here with your Eric’s! Daily! Horoscope! for  GoodPieRupeeTuesday, HookahDanangAniméAnew, VenuesChainsWithBenVereen’sNudeLegs, StiltLimeGunnerMitchWho?, May 21th, 2013.  It has come to Our attention that some Gentle Readers may be flummoxed by Our “Tuesday’s child is Jacques Cousteau” verse of late.  Here is a helpful hint:  begin singing at “GoodPieRupeeTuesday”, then continue singing throughout.  You will be amazed, astonished, agog, and aghast.  You’re welcome.

Happy Birthday, meanwhile, to John, who turns twenty-four somewhere or another that We’re going to have to look up…California.  Why We did not know that off the top of Our head, We have no idea.  Also, Happy Belated Victoria Day to all of Our Gentle Readers named Victoria.

We would ask if you missed Us, but We are already painfully aware of Our sound-of-one-hand-clapping-erasers status with YouPeople.  We were too busy yesterday with A Serious Writing Assignment to find time to pen an e-pissode of this frivolity.  Today, We shall be attempting to sell someone on said Serious Writing Assignment.  Also eating meatball sandwiches.  This, apparently, is why We have arisen at the crack of @ss.

Long-term Eric’s!Daily!Horoscope! readers are no doubt imagining “eating meatball sandwiches” to be some sort of perverse euphemism.  Alas (also alack), it means nothing more than the consumption of sandwiches containing meatballs.  For lunch. Sigh.

On the plus side, the aforementioned meatballs are homemade.  On the plus siZe, Our ass.

And now the HorrorScopes:

Speaking of meatballs, it is Jeffrey Dahmer’s birthday.  As if things weren’t already weird enough.

You have to let go of a personal issue for the day (It’s not a personal hygiene issue, is it?  Because We already have that Not So Fresh Feeling, and we haven’t even eaten any meatballs yet.)

(Is it just Us, or does this “meatball eating” business sound dirtier every time We say it?)

— even if it feels totally vital! (Everything feels totally more vital when you stick a random exclamation point after it!  AssHat!)

Things just aren’t looking good for someone close to you, (What things specifically are they looking at?)

and their needs have to come first for the time being. (Have a meatball!)

You are awfully good at taking care of yourself  (We ARE!  We can wipe Our Own ass and everything.)

(What the fuck is this dizzy cow talking about?)

— but have you been overdoing it just a little bit lately? (Overdoing taking care of Ourself?  As in, taking too good care of Ourself?  So We should just let Ourself go a little, is what you’re saying?)

Be brutally honest with yourself today, (Liar, liar, muumuu on fire.)

 and the answer just might be ‘yes’. (Which would be lovely, if We had any earthly idea what the question was.)

You need to deter your selfish urges and think of other people first for a little while (Indeed.  So, speaking of other people, what can other people do for Us?)

— if for no other reason than to put some more positive points into your karma account.  (Otherwise, Our mouth might write a karma check that Our ass can’t cash.  Also, karma karma karma karma karma chameleon.)

You can start small (Small?  Honey, that ship has sailed.)

— hold the door for someone. (Alternatively, hold the phone.  Or, hold your horses.  Or, William Holden.)

Pay the toll for the car behind you. (That’s no car, that’s Our ass.  Now you’ve hurt Our feelings.)

Little things mean a lot. (Also, lottle things mean a lit.  And, Lotte Lenya.)

Your social graces are astounding.  (That’s certainly one word for them.)

You know exactly what to put out there and what to play close to your chest.  (It’s like the Kenny Rogers song:  You gotta know William Holden, know Barbara Feldon, know when Anne Hathaway, not Nora Dunn.)

(Oh, is that stuck in your head now?  Too bad, so sad, anal sex with your dad.)

It’s part of what makes you so appealing. (That, and Our meatballs.)

A certain someone finds your sense of discretion most intriguing. (If you put “in bed” at the end of that, it sounds just like a Chinese fortune cookie.  (As opposed, We suppose, to a Lithuanian fortune cookie.))

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.

                                                                                                                                     

Like a black fly in your Chardonnay

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Would you verb my noun-noun?

Greetings, Extruded Ribcage Impedes Cribbage---

Here is your horoscope for Wednesday, August 25, 2010 (You will notice (the two of you who pay any attention, that is) that We have once again skipped right over Tuesday. That is because We are campaigning for a new week, the structure of which is Monday-Wednesday-Friday-Friday-Saturday-Saturday-Sunday.  Every third Monday is a national holiday, and all Fridays are half days.  Due to the confusion this may engender over the location of Hump Day, every day will now be Hump Day, so hump away, harlots!):

(Of course, We wouldn’t hold Our breath waiting for this campaign to work, as We can’t even get people to spread the word about a four-minute video:

)

(Here is some random publicity from the Philly Weekly for the upcoming WaitStaff show in the 2010 Philly Fringe Festival, The Real Housewives of South Philly: http://www.philadelphiaweekly.com/news-and-opinion/College-101-A-Students-Guide-to-Navigating-Philly.html?page=2&comments=1&showAll=   Also, you should know that WaitStaff Fringe shows traditionally sell out, so you will want to get your tickets in advance in your pants in France Vivian Vance.)

(What just happened?  (Apparently, We can’t even do Tourette’s Syndrome properly.  Fu(king motherfu(kers.  (Heh.  See what We did there?)))

(Do you want to hear about the dream in which We mistook Eurotrash for g@ys, or the dream in which We visited Our old apartment, where the new tenants were celebrating Christmas in August?  Here’s some further information to help you decide:  in one of them, the punchline, in Our best Robert Mitchum/William Holden voice, is “A week ago Thursday”, and, in the other one, We are n@ked.)

(We’ll just be waiting right here for your decision. (Or for an explanation of why Micro$oft Weird™ doesn’t recognize “punchline” as word.))

 (Our Our-O-Scope:)

You won't be able to contain your 'enthusiasm,' no matter how you try (Just Our luck: one more thing We’re gonna hafta clean up.)

-- and that enthusiasm may be interpreted by less enlightened souls (Less enlightened, are they? Where the hell’s Our flamethrower?)

as impatience, arrogance or outright aggressiveness. (Or possibly insouciance, aspidistra, or HassenPfeffer Incorporated.  Also, what the fu(k are you talking about, Kelli?)

(We just this minute received email from a WorldWideInterWebNetzian dating site.  The subject line was “Eric, Are You Insane?”  Some clue as to the answer would be that Our first thought was, “Why all the capital letters?”)

Fortunately, you won't care. (Now there’s a newsflash.)

Not one little bit. (Nor a whit.  Nor a nit.  Nor a spit of sh1t on yer tit, silly git.)

(What?)

Try not to stick out your tongue when you win the door prize.  (Surely We cannot be the only one who has no earthly clue what the preceding sentence could possibly be expected to mean.)

Step away from the computer, (And what?  Finish this horoscope via telepathy?)

and the person you've been IMing who's definitely, absolutely, positively the love of your life. (Yeah. Okay.  Whatevs.)

Or at least insist on a very, very recent photo. (Of what?)

 It takes two sticks at the right angles to create sparks (Also, it takes two d1cks at right angles to create spunk.  Also also, it takes two hands to handle a Whopper™. (Which is, come (heh) to think of it, just another way of saying the same thing.))

-- or two opposing views, spoken by adamantly uncompromising individuals. (Good old adverbial Adam Ant.)

(That one may sneak up on a few of you…wait for it.  THERE ya go!)

Either way, the end result is the same -- heat!   (That’s the same thing that happens when you mistake your Icy-Hot™ for your Preparation H™.)

 (Your Euro-O-Scopes:

http://www.humorscope.com

it’s not just cow, it’s grass)