Listen to Jesus, Jimmy…just say “No” to the marihuana.

Greetings, Egress Regressively Ingresses Congress---


(It doesn’t matter how many times you read it, it still won’t make any sense. Move on, already.)


Here is your horoscope for Tuesday, May 18, 2010 (Happy birthday to Gregory G0DD@MN! G., who turns twenty-four today somewhere on the outskirts (ooooh!) of Greater Bostonia in the Witch City. (Does “outskirts” sound dirty to you? Does “inskirts” sound dirtier? (Clearly, We have a career ahead writing str8 p0rn. That is, when We’re not busy doing g@y sensitivity training for folks in the hospitality industry. Which is where We were yesterday morning at the cr@ck of @ss, and why there was no Eric’s Daily Horoscope yesterday. (We know you missed Us; We could hear you wailing, gnashing your teeth, and beating your breasts. (Your battered breasts could not be reached for comment. (As We typed that, We started thinking of “battered breasts” as “breasts covered with batter”. Now We are hungry for chicken. Also, all of Our str8 boi readers just came in their pants. (You’re welcome.))))))):


(Seven, count ‘em, SEVEN parentheticals! Obviously, We are back with a vengeance. Of course, it is only fitting that We should be a cunning linguist on Gregory GD G.’s natal anniversary. (There was going to be a really clever joke in there, but We got distracted by something shiny and forgot what it was. Fu(king Alzheimers.))


(We seem to recall asking on Friday how many of you We were going to see at Our show on Sunday. The answer, apparently, was none. Which is better, presumably, than the answer being “nun”, but not by much. So We’ll give you three more chances: Wednesday and Thursday, May 19th and 20th at 8PM or Sunday, May 23rd, at 7PM at L’Etage Cabaret at 6th and Bainbridge Streets. The Mother Of All Sketch Comedy Shows. You can get tickets here. NOW.)


(What else have We been up to, you ask? How nice of you to pretend to care. On Friday, We watched the kidz at Drexel perform Reefer Madness. On Saturday, We went to G@y Bingo, where the Real Housewives of Souf Philly did a promo for the WaitStaff show, and We were accosted by a drunken drag queen for using Our cell phone. On Sunday, We did the show that none of you saw, and on Monday, We did the aforementioned g@y sensitivity training (and trust Us, We are ever-so-sensitive at 5:30 in the morning) and assisted at MizGerreGarrett’s sketch comedy class in the evening. Obviously, We are a busy active woman with an overactive bladder. We are pretty sure We just found Jimmy Hoffa in Our Depends™. (What was Jimmy Hoffa doing in Our Depends™, you ask? The backstroke.))


(And what have YOU been up to? Oh, who gives a sh1t.)


(Our Our-O-Scope.)


Ordinary activities will be a bit trickier than usual, (We certainly hope that means that tricky activities will be more ordinary.)


leaving you with only one choice: improvise. (We do a sketch about improv in the WaitStaff show. It is entirely scripted. Because improv isn’t funny.)


Stop obsessing about what seems to be a lack of options. (We lack so many things. We are, for instance, so poor that We can barely pay attention.)


(We had a dream last night about other people cooking in Our kitchen. Someone left a pot of broccoli boiling on Our stove until it burned to a crisp. We couldn’t find any of Our dishes. We have no idea what any of this was about, but what the h3ll 3ver happened to good old fashioned s3x dreams?)


Focus on the most bizarre, outrageous solution possible -- it could very well end up being the right one. (We dare not even contemplate what this might actually mean if it were (subjunctively) true.)


It's not them (Also, it’s not you; it’s me and you.)


-- it's that you're not happy with yourself right now. (Really? So what are We gonna do, break up with Us?)


Your mission is to make them understand that when you feel better, you'll be far more affectionate. (As always, if you or any of your IM Force are caught or killed, the Secretary will disavow any knowledge of your actions. This horoscope will self-destruct in five seconds.)


(Why would anybody care what somebody’s secretary had to say about anything?)


The way you usually do things just won't work now. (Fine. How ‘bout We do something in a good mood, with a man?)


(It strikes Us that “good mood” looks like it should rhyme, but, of course, doesn’t. How that affects Our mood remains to be seen.)


Your only option is to think of something new -- which won't be a problem. (Well, We should certainly hope that if We expend all the energy of thinking up something newe, it won’t be a new PROBLEM. Jeebus.)






(Your YOUR-O-Scopes:






http://www.humorscope.com




if you’ve got a passion for cowgrass, and you’ve got a craving for saving)