How are things in Glocca Morra?

Greetings, Emphatic Rebuttal Infuriates Czar---


Here is your horoscope for Thursday, February 18, 2010 (We have finally smartened up and put all the WaitStaff show info in pixture form above, to spare all y’all from having to get n@ked yet again to skim a whole paragraph of information. You’re welcome.):


(This, however, is the important part: after the show, as We are forced to depart the World Café Live immediately (no doubt amidst a hail of rotting fruits and vegetables (“Hey!” We hear you cry, “Some of my best friends are rotting fruits and vegetables!”)), We have decided to reconvene to accept accolades, acolytes (that was an altar boy joke…on your knees, b1tch!), and, most importantly, free drinks two blocks away at Slainte (which see: http://www.slaintephilly.com/ ). This, We are told, is an Irish drinking emporium whose name does not rhyme with “taint”, as One would imagine (although that would, We suppose, make it a g@y drinking emporium). Instead, it sounds, when pronounced by Irishian Irish speakers of Our acquaintance, something like a cross between “lawnchair” and “trenchmouth”. This is because Irishians are a very strange people who don’t even call their language “Irish”; they call it (oh, like you didn’t see this coming) “Gaylick”. But what can One expect from folks who once starved a bunch of potatoes to death for no reason whatsoever?)


(Leprechaun, shillelagh, HassenPfeffer Incorporated.)


(As a special boner…er, bonus treat, those of all y’all who have only started following the WaitStaff since the beginning of Our appearances with same will not yet have seen the following video. Which is totally NOT safe for work. Unless, We suppose, you happen to work in a brothel.)

(We should also note that the WaitStaff’s well-oiled (heh) publicity machine is in high gear, and tickets are flying out the door faster than a starving potato in a leprechaun colony (what???), so get yours NOW. Here We are in today’s City Paper: http://citypaper.net/articles/2010/02/18/desperate-and-dateless (You will note that We Our Own Selves Personally do not appear in the accompanying photo, which is an old WaitStaff publicity photo taken prior to Our affiliation with same. In fact, only two of the people pictured will be in tomorrow’s show; the rest are…well, We’re not exactly sure, but We have heard the phrases “making license plates” and “penile servitude” bandied about.))


(And, in case you needed one more inducement to attend, Our mission du jour is to go shopping for exactly the right pair of boxer shorts in which to do the tango. (Whaddaya mean, the World Café Live just called and said they’re closed tomorrow?))


(Our-O-Scope…)


It's time for you to take some time out. (We hear there’s a special chair for that.)


Phone off the hook. (Okay, let’S just think about that one for a second. (The S is capitalized because it’s a contraction of “let Us”, which involves The Royal Us. But then you knew that already.) Once those chirren born in 1990 whom We were discussing yesterday have chirren, there will be a whole generation of people who have no idea what the fu(k “phone off the hook” even means. Seriously, people. Turn off your eight-track tapes of Lawrence Welk and give that a moment’s thought.)


Sit down. (Sit on my face and tell me that you love me.)


Breathe. (Oh, please. If you have to be told, perhaps it’s better if you just stop. More air for the rest of Us.)


Think about your past year. (Scr3w that noise. Think about this: which is funnier: “Is that a shillelagh in your pants, or are you just happy to see me?” or “Is that a leprechaun in your pants, or are you just happy to see me?” We Personally are leaning toward the leprechaun, but discuss.)


(We’ll take “Phrases No Sane Person Would Ever Type” for $500, Alex…what is “leaning toward the leprechaun”?)


What are you grateful for? (Ingrates.)


(No, give it a minute. It’ll come to you. That was one of Our rare suBtle jokes. THERE ya go!)


If you have time, it's a good time to actually make a list. (If We don’t have time, should We make a list of things We don’t have time for?)


Think about your blessings. (Then think of Debra Messing covered in Thousand Island dressing. (That was a little bone We just threw to Our str8 boi readers, to make up for the “Cindy Brady’s pubes” thing from yesterday.))


(As a little insight into the inner workings of Eric’s Daily Horoscope, We would like to point out that We originally covered Ms. Messing in Russian dressing, but We decided that Thousand Island was funnier.)


Sometimes the mere act of reveling in all that is good actually brings on more good things. (Mmm-hmm. And sometimes, unicorns f@rt cinnamon-scented rainbows.)


If you want to have some peace and quiet now, the skies support you. (The skies, you say? We find Ourselves somewhat nonplussed.)


(Insert reflection on what a peculiar word “nonplussed” is here.)


Feel free not to say yes to every single invitation, if you don't actually feel like it. (Oh, please. If anyone ever actually invited Us anywhere, We don’t have a thing to wear, We just washed Our hair, there’s no time to Nair™, Fred Astaire, Linda Blair, Sonny and Cher.)


(Oh, shut up.)



(YOUR-O-Scopes:


http://www.humorscope.com


cowgrass tastes good like a cigarette should)