Greetings, Earthquake Redistributes Itinerant Chileans---(HowZAT for topical? Never let it be said that Eric’s Daily Horoscope doesn’t have its finger on the pulse. And you know what They say: Chile today, and hot tamale. (Hey, We didn’t say it, They did. Now stop trying to close your zipper; We’re trying to finger your pulse.))
(Meanwhile, here in the real world, We woke up this morning and it was still snowing. So let’S think about that before We all start whining about some d@mn earthquake, okay?)
(Okay. Now, in the interests of cheering all y’all up, and taking your minds off of the horrible weather We’re enduring, here’s a little video in anticipation of Easter. It is completely secular, and also completely safe for work (although if you are at work today, you are a Big Ol’ Loser, because Number One, it’s Saturday, and Number B, don’t you know We are having Major Snow Flurries?))
Here is your horoscope for Saturday, February 27, 2010 (Happy Day After Walter’s Birthday! (Give Us another shout if you came back today, Walter.)) Other than that, We got nothin’. We did shovel Our snow yesterday, after removing Our bunny slippers. Not that the bunny slippers weren’t warm, but We felt Our neighbors were unprepared for such an apparition and might have become alarmed. And really, between Our Seasonal Affective Disorder and The Weather, We’ve got enough to deal with without a bunch of alarmed SoufPhillyites on Our hands.):
(We are well aware that a number of you spent yesterday picturing Us wearing nothing but bunny slippers. And, as soon as We get our dogsled team hitched up, We’ll be right over to get you.)
(Is it wrong that We now want chili for dinner? But first, scrambled eggs for breakfast? (Oh, you know you love Us.))
(Our-O-Scope…)
Don't worry about your antennae, because there's no way they'll lead you astray. (Rabbit ears, bunny slippers…there’s a joke in there somewhere, but We’re too busy multiplying to see it.)
The advice of others may not be quite so reliable, but you'll easily wade through what's legit and what's not -- as long as you pay attention to the signs along the way. (We have never quite understood why They feel compelled to put up signs to tell Us that it’s “Slippery When Wet”. Isn’t everything?)
Just when you thought you'd actually get some rest, a certain someone will offer up an interesting, irresistible invitation. (Is it iridescent, or invisible? Is it delivered by an ibis? Well, is it? (We are practicing up for the writing of Our children’s book, as We mentioned yesterday. Anastasia and the Princely Poop. Oh, the places you’ll go!))
Oh, go ahead. (Oh, shut up.)
You can sleep when you're dead. (Now, see. That there is exactly the kind of encouragement One is looking for from One’s Ass(tromalogical) Ho(roscopulist). Except for, ya know, not. Jeebus.)
Finalizing the deal won't be a problem. (Anthropomorphizing the aardvark, on the other hand, might be a sticky wicket.)
(Hey, nobody told Us We were expected to make sense. Meanwhile, in the interests of Our continued efforts to improve all y’all’s edumacation, We just went off to Google what the fu(k is a wicket (We left out the “what the fu(k” part) and why should One care if One’s wicket is sticky. Turns out, a wicket is used in cricket. We thought it was a croquet term. (We suppose We could split the difference, and have it be involved with croquettes. Once We finish writing Anastasia and the Princely Poop, We shall write a Victorian pornographic novella entitled The Coquette’s Croquettes. Trust Us, there won’t be a dry seat in the house.) But back to the sticky cricket wicket…as luck would have it, the entire explanation is completely devoid of any interest whatsoever. The End.)
Your confidence and je ne sais quoi will be unstoppable. (As We have pointed out repeatedly in these pages, We do not speak a word of French. We don’t even particularly care for their mustard. In fact, when the French starts flying (as opposed to frying), We generally rely on Our Sistah Ovella to be Our cunning linguist. (Which, come to think of it, is probably how the whole coquette’s croquettes incident came about in the first place). However, “je ne sais quoi” is a phrase We happen to know, and whenever people are bandying it about willy-nilly, We like to point out that they have probably forgotten that its literal meaning is “I don’t know what”. Now, We don’t know about you, but We are not entirely sure that an “unstoppable I-don’t-know-what” is necessarily a good thing. Just sayin’.)
(Is it just Us, or is it totally fu(ked up that Micro$oft Weird™ recognizes each and every piece of “je ne sais quoi”, but doesn’t seem to have heard of “oui”?)
Prying your competition's admiring eyes away could be a bit more challenging, though. (Long-time Eric’s Daily Horoscope readers will be expecting it, newbies may be in for a shock, but We are totally picturing literal eye-prying, involving, perhaps, a crowbar.)
That pat on the back you've been waiting for? (Hi, Pat! Nice to meetcha! Is that a sticky wicket in your pocket, or are you just happy to see Us?)
You won't have to wait much longer. (All together now: “How long is it?”)
The next sound you sound you hear will be a very hearty 'congratulations!' (And, given Our current size, that had best be followed by “You’ve just given birth to quintuplets”, or We’re gonna be really p1ssed.)
(YOUR-O-Scopes:
http://www.humorscope.com
You'll wonder where the yellow went when you brush your teeth with cowgrass.)
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