So sweet and soft and gentle, my favorite Oriental

Greetings, Edible Ratatouille, Inedible Confit---


(Oui, oui, oui, all ze way ‘ome. (Good morning, Ovella!))


Here is your horoscope for Monday, February 22, 2010 (Happy George Washington’s real birthday to one and all. (We would wish George Washington a happy birthday, but We’re pretty sure none of all y’all would believe he’s twenty-four, considering all the places he’s slept. (Which, come (heh) to think of it, is a sentiment that could also apply to some of Our sluttier readers.))):


(Okay, Micro$oft Weird™, We were going to let the anti-French bias of declaring “confit” not-a-word go, but now “sluttier”? Does slutty work for you? Apparently it does. So you can’t extrapolate to the comparative? A fu(king third grader could do that, without knowing what the word meant. (Although if a third grader were (subjunctively) fu(king, presumably “sluttier” would be way back there someplace.))


(But enough about ped0philia. (Although We could at this juncture probably do an entire treatise on lovely words for disgusting things. “Ped0philia” (as a word, mind you) just rolls off the tongue. (“Ped0phile”, on the other hand, does not.) Somehow related to this is the fact that everything sounds better when you hear it in French, and disgusting when you hear it in German.) So, We said segueingly, let’S segue (what’s a segue? About a pound and a half.) from the touchy (heh) subject of ped0philia to a tasteful dinner conversation about race and ethnicity. (See? “Ethnicity”. There’s a word that just sounds Not Quite Nice.) We were trundling about the WorldWideInterWebNetz yesterday, when We found Ourself on a dating site, whereupon a person of the Asian Persuasion (We can call them “Asian”, right? It’s “Oriental” that’s politically incorrect, yes? Whatevs…Our theory is, if you’ve seen one Chinaman, you’ve seen ‘em all. Which is pretty d@mn efficient, considering there’s nine hundred billion of ‘em.)…at any rate, this person of the Asian Persuasion was describing hisself to potential suitors by saying, and We quote: “I’m Asian-ish…not like Korean or anything‏”. What the h3ll does that even mean?)


(If ever there was a cue for a musical number, that was it: “Chinks and sluts and geeks better scurry, when I dress you up like a Furry, something something something a hurry and a riding crop…”)


(Meanwhile, about today’s pixture…We felt Our moods could all be improved by a little mental beach holiday. We Our Ownselves are still under the weather, although We must say it’s much more civilized to simply take to One’s bed when One is ailing than to go peddle One’s Streptococci to One’s fellow inmates in Dilbertville simply because One’s jailor doesn’t give One enough paid sick leave. So, anyway, We give you A Day At The Beach. Try not to think about the Speedo™ flossing PeePaw’s @sscrack.)


(Speaking of words, “PeePaw’s @sscrack” somehow manages to sound like exactly what it is.)


(Please refer to yesterday’s horoscope for an audience participation offer.)


(Our-O-Scope…)


(The following is somewhat of a departure in format for Eric’s Daily Horoscope, but We stumbled across it in Our WorldWideInterWebNetzian travels yesterday (in between avoiding dating Asian-ish Non-Koreans) and thought you might enjoy it. We shall offer it up without commentary, because, (A.) it’s already past noon and (Number 2.) what can One say?)


Saturn is woken during Monday’s wee smalls by the Sun talking in his sleep. He tries to get back to sleep by reading one or the other of Stieg Larsson’s Ikea lists of novels. It very nearly works until Mercury notices the book and tries to tell him the ending.


The planet of wittering-on continues wittering-on about the book into Tuesday, when Pluto grabs the brick size hardback and lobs it at his head. The Sun applauds.


The Moon and Jupiter bake cupcakes for everyone on Wednesday. Which is nice.


Friday finds Mercury and Uranus grappling with one of those half-formed ideas that give them such glee. They draw diagrams and everything; it keeps them out from under the grownups’ feet. Mercury is so made up by the playdate that he giggles infectiously into Saturday, and Neptune and Chiron can’t help but smooch his cheek.


On Sunday the Moon puffs out her cheeks, scrutinising them for blackheads.

Meanwhile, Jupiter takes his cupcake recipe and two pinnies around to the Sun. When these two get together, more is definitely more. Anyone fancy cake?


(See what We mean? Meanwhile, mmm…cake.)


(YOUR-O-Scopes:


http://www.humorscope.com


cowgrass...the fresh maker.)