Greetings, Eloquent Reupholsterer Introduces Chairperson---
(We’re gonna just pause here for a mo-mo while We let the suBtlety of that greeting permeate your conscientiousness…)
Here is your horoscope for Thursday, March 11, 2010 (So it’s official. Ms. Betty White will be hosting the Mothers’ Day edition of Saturday Night Live. Which is amazing on a number of levels, not the least of which is the fact that there are only three people who realize that that show is still on television, so which one of ‘em told Betty White? And, while We are certainly a big fan of Ms. White, We notice that there has been no viral SitOnMyFaceBookian groundswell of support to have Us host Saturday Night Live (or SNL, as they apparently call it. Like, ya know, when Beverly Hills 90210 changed its name to just 90210, because it was just so tragically hip that it couldn’t stand its own self. Jeebus. Shannen Doherty wasn’t even on it any more by that point. But We digress…) Yes, boyzzz and gurrlllzzz, We, in case you hadn’t heard, are unemployed and in need of a jawb. Betty White is collecting Social Security and living the high life; who’s gonna start a SitOnMyFaceBook campaign to get Us the hosting gig at Saturday Night Live? Day after day all y’all sit there passively while We hump through joops to entertain you; is it too much to ask you to do one little thing for Us?):
(Apparently.)
(“Hump through joops”. Heh. We slay Ourselves.)
(In other news, yesterday was supposed to be a good day. We had places to go, people to see, and actual functions to fulfill. We showered, We shaved, We FDSed Ourselves into a stupor, and We sallied forth, wondering all the while who the h3ll was Sally, and why did she come in fourth? (The comedy in here, she is like machine gun fire, no?) Unfortunately, it appears that We suck, and should just stay home. The End.)
(Live from New York, it’s Thursday morning!!!)
(Our-O-Scope…)
You're a combination accountant, strategist and political advisor at the moment. (And yet, not receiving a paycheck. Go figger.)
What you do with all this great analytical stuff is up to you, (If We tell you that We’re gonna wrap it in sandpaper and cram it, sideways, will you be able to guess where We’re gonna put it?)
but if you're smart, (Yeah. That could happen.)
you'll think big, (Two Siamese twins from Salinas/Were conjoined from birth at the p3nis/Keeping surgeons at bay/They were oft heard to say,/”But we’ve only one p3nis between us!”)
(Sure, you knew there was a d1ck joke coming. But, much like the Spanish Inquisition, nobody expects a d1ck limerick.)
aim at the heart of the matter (Equivalent results may also be obtained by aiming at the hat of the martyr. (No, think about it. See?))
and expect nothing but complete and total success. (Better advice, at least as regards Our Own Personal life, would be obtained by putting the period after “nothing”. But only if it’s a happy period.)
You're due to meet someone new under quite unusual circumstances. (Is there anyone who is seeing that as even remotely a possible good thing? Because to Us, it is screaming “mugging”.)
Just keep in mind that there's no such thing as a coincidence. (Oddly enough, We were just thinking that.)
(That there was a little existential humor. So, if you don’t exist, you won’t get it.)
You've got a bone to pick with a higher-up, (Heh-heh, she said “bone”.)
but this just isn't the right time to pick it. (Well, good. Because it’s all We can do to pick Our nose.)
Sit quietly and bide your time. (Also, walk softly and carry a big stick. Also also, don’t shoot till you see the whites of their eyes. ‘Cause that sh1t burnzzzzz.)
Give it two weeks. (Scr3w that noise…just fire its @ss outright.)
(And that’s about as funny as We can be for one day. You’re welcome.)
(YOUR-O-Scopes:
http://www.humorscope.com
cowgrass…it’s a floorwax! It’s a dessert topping!)
Cowgrass is the new GHB.
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