Thursday, April 1, 2010

Imagine me and you, I do, I think about it day and night

Greetings, Elliptical Rhomboid Intersects Counterparallelogram---


Here is your horoscope for Thursday, April 1, 2010 (Happy April Fools Day! Alternatively, Foolish April Happy Day! (Micro$oft Weird™ wants to discuss the possessive apostrophe that should be appearing in “Fools”. However, it seems to be of the opinion that there is only one Fool, and, consequently, is lobbying for “Fool’s”, while We, having apparently met more people than Micro$oft Weird™ (i.e. two), are pretty sure it wants to be the plural “Fools’”. So here are some apostrophes: ‘’’’’’’’’’’; stick ‘em wherever ya want.)):


(Congratulations to Dena, a former fellow EAC inmate, who, We learn from Our SitOnMyFaceBook, has found herself a jawb with the Nebraskan Interbreeding Headquarters. This does, apparently, mean she will be moving to Nebraska, and supervising the interbreeding of Nebraskans, but We are happy for her nonetheless. (“Nonetheless” is an odd word, isitnot? Not, of course, as odd as its opposite, “lessthannuns”, but still odd…nonetheless.))


(We seem to be in a very silly mood this morning. We may have to wrap this up quickly, so We can play an April Fools joke on Ourself. And We were in a completely foul humor when We went to bed. Because people are, ya know, idiots. Presumably, they are still idiots today. But We just don’t care. Nanny-nanny-poo-poo.)


(Our Our-O-Scope.)


You're so eager to meet new people (No. New people are babies. Babies make too much noise, and p00p inappropriately. If We’re going to meet anybody, they need to be at least eighteen. We heard somewhere that there was a rule.)


and to entertain the ones you know and love in an extravagant fashion (What could be more extravagant than a daily horoscope that they can nakedly skim through and never comment upon?)


that you're likely going to attract a bit of attention for a while. (Speaking of attention, We have, of course, recently mentioned in these pages the upcoming WaitStaff show The Mother Of All Sketch Comedy Shows, coming in May to L’Etage, details to follow. Well, count yourselves among the first to hear (you wacky, zany, madcap cognoscenti, you) that the next show, Christmas in July, will be at the World CafĂ© Live! Oh, the places We’ll go! Stay tuned here for details, or check Us out at
http://www.thewaitstaff.com or on SitOnMyFaceBook at http://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/The-WaitStaff/177605379471?ref=ts )


You definitely won't hate it. (As We mentioned earlier in the week, We shall hate It even less once We’ve rubbed a college student all over It.)


Bring all of 'em along for the ride. (This face seats five.)


If you can't muster up the courage (Then clusterfu(k the mirage.)


to get their number now, you'll never be able to -- not even in your next life. (You heard it here first, folks…proof of reincarnation! We Our Own Selves Personally intend to come back as Johnny Depp’s underwear.)


So do it, already! (Pushy b1tch, ain’t’cha?)


Making your point won't be a problem. (Thrusting it into people’s hearts repeatedly will, however, be exhausting. We are thinking a spa day may be required.)


(Apropos of nothing, a few random neurons are firing and attempting to discover how something can be required if it was never quired in the first place. Meanwhile, some other neurons are attempting to come up with a definition for “rechoired”. We shall keep you posted.)


Trying to stop yourself from elaborating on every possible detail -- well, that might be. (Oh, did Our intervening bon mots totally decimate the sense of this sentence? Too bad, so sad, @nal s3x with your dad.)


Try to restrain your enthusiasm. (We shall make every effort. Seriously.)


(Your YOUR-O-Scopes:

http://www.humorscope.com

cowgrass…only her hairdresser knows for sure)


3 comments:

  1. Happy birth month. Time to celebrate!

    ReplyDelete
  2. thanks man! although now my job sounds dirty. Also, I'd never move to Nebraska - DC here we come!

    ReplyDelete
  3. They grow a lot of corn in Nebraska, don't they?

    I don't know nothin' 'bout birthin' no birthers.

    ReplyDelete