Here’s a man in evening clothes; how he got here, I don’t know.

Greetings, Etched Retch’s Itchy Crotch---


Here is your horoscope for Saturday, March 06, 2010 (Well, it’s Saturday morning, boyzzzz and gurrrllzzz, which should mean cartoons. What it actually means is that We are contemplating Our to-do list, which seems to be exactly the same as it was at the beginning of the week. Except for having gathered a thin layer of dust. If We put “Dust To-Do List” on Our to-do list, then We dust it, then We scratch off “Dust To-Do List”, can We pretend We’ve accomplished something?):


(Seriously. That’s all We’ve got. We could do Our taxes, but We’re not sure how. We could go to the DMV to get Our new license, but why wouldn’t We wait for a weekday, when it will be less crowded? We could do any number of household chores, but who could possibly be bothered? Sigh.)


(Our-O-Scope…)


Sun quincunx Uranus. (Uranus was left sweaty, sticky, and begging for more. Seriously, what is that? Or, more to the point, how dirty is that? Quincunx you, Kelli!)


Tend carefully to your health, no matter how busy you are. (Oh, yes, Our busy-ness. Let Us show it to you.)


You'll need your strength to stay on top of things. (And One had better stay on top, or the next thing One knows, somebody’s son will be quincunxing Uranus.)


Unusual circumstances and even odder coincidences will be stressful, but you can certainly handle it if you stay flexible. (That’s what she said.)


Pay attention to what your dear one isn't saying. (Blow-up dolls don’t speak. (Ah-HA! At last We have hit upon the perfect title for Our memoirs!))


Those subtle signals (And We? Are All. About. The SuBtlety. Why, here at Eric’s Daily Horoscope, SuBtlety is Our middle name. The SuBtlety goes in before the name goes on, oh yes it does. You’re nobody till SuBtlety loves you. Always seems to me, SuBtlety to be the hardest word. SuBtlety night’s alright for fightin’.)


(You wouldn’t complain so much if you realized that all of this SuBtlety punnery is sparing you from a Quincunx Uranus song set to the tune of “Twisting The Night Away”.)


(Okay, since when is “punnery” not a word? Jeebus!)


(Oh, did all this happen in mid-Kelli-sentence? Too bad, so sad, quincunx Uranus with your dad.)


will give you far more insight into what really makes them tick than anything they actually say. (“What makes them tick” is really so last millennium, isn’t it? Nothing actually ticks any more, does it? How much d1ck would a dipstick tick if a dipstick could tick d1ck?)


(What?)


Cleaning up someone else's mess is never fun. (Especially after somebody’s quincunxed Uranus. Why, the santorum’s liable to be knee-deep. (You’re pixturing all of this, aren’t you? P3rverts.))


When what you do is repaid by serious kudos from the powers that be -- well, it's certainly a lot more tolerable. (Yeah. ‘Cause nothing makes a lot of cr@p tolerable like getting paid in granola.)


(YOUR-O-Scopes:


http://www.humorscope.com


Break me off a piece of that cowgrass bar)