There was something in the air that night, the stars were bright, Fernando

Greetings, Enterprising Raccoon Invents Canopener---


(Oh, c’mon, Micro$oft Weird™! Now “canopener” isn’t a word? Clearly, you’ve never seen a Jeff Stryker movie.)


(You weren’t expecting such smut so early in an Eric’s Daily Horoscope, were you? Too bad, so sad, @nal s3x with your dad.)


(The hidden word in the preceding sentence is “inane”. (Our mind….it’s a terrible thing that it’s so much smaller than Our waist. (This is your brain. This is your brain on drugs, using Cool Ranch Doritos™ to scoop up a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Chunky Monkey™.)))


Here is your horoscope for Tuesday, May 11, 2010 (Ah, Tuesday. One day closer to the weekend. Also one day closer to death. Glass half empty, glass half full, glass shattered on the counter and a piece stuck in your eye. (We are pretty sure that all of Our Gentle Readers who used to chide Us for Our negativity have long since abandoned ship, because it has been veritable years since We’ve heard a peep out of any of ‘em. So they’re either gone, or they’ve learned to keep their d@mn Pollyanna pieholes shut. Meanwhile, in a fit of apple-pie-optimism and bluebird-of-happiness-ness (Ha! P3nis!), We bring you this heartwarming Eric’s Daily Horoscope Pixture Du Jour Au Jus Bourguignon Bouillabaisse Franco American Spaghettios™ (Uh-oh) of two tards in love. Doesn’t it just make you all moist? (Oh, are you not properly toilet-trained either?)))


(In other news, you will recall that yesterday evening, We were off to rehearse the WaitStaff show in front of MizGerreGarrett’s sketch comedy class at Drexel. It was a smashing success, and the chirren even got most of Our old-geezer pop culture references. So now We have almost a week to fine-tune the comedy so that even the most tight-anused well-toilet-trained among you are issuing forth Hershey™-squirts of glee as We strut and fret Our hour upon the stage. (We know that Micro$oft Weird™ knows perfectly well that “anused” is a word. It is only pretending that it isn’t because, in an earlier paragraph, We were (figuratively) waving Jeff Stryker’s p3nis about, and you can’t Hershey™-squirt through the Holland Tunnel.))


(My, that was crass wasn’t it? Too bad, so sad… (You just filled in the rest of that your ownself, didn’t you? P3rvert.))


(We have been somewhat less relentless than usual in Our peddling of this show, but, as the size of Our paycheck is tied to your attendance, that nonsense is about to stop. The show, you may recall, is called The Mother Of All Sketch Comedy Shows, and it is happening on Sundays, May 16th and 23rd, at 7PM, and Wednesday and Thursday, May 19th and 20th at 8PM at  L'Etage Cabaret at 6th and Bainbridge Streets. You can get tickets here. The show’s theme is mothers, and, in addition to special guest appearances by some of the WaitStaff’s mothers, it also boasts returns of audience favorites Yuri (and PuppetYuri), Jesus and his mom, Mrs. MotherOfGod, and a Very Special Episode of The Real Housewives Of South Philly, in which We actually meet the Duchess’s mother. So get your tickets. NOW.)


(Our Our-O-Scope.)


Mercury is now going forwards again (Meanwhile, Uranus is backing up nicely.)


- which means that life should start to seem more straight-forward. (Oh, please. If any more straights come forward, how will We EVER get l@id?)


There will be fewer people throwing temper tantrums (Therefore it must follow as the night the day that there shall be fewer people catching them.)


and/or acting madly confused. (We got nothin’. We were gonna put another Uranus joke here, but We thought it would be nice to let all y’all do one your own selves. So We’re just gonna leave ya a little space for your very own Do-It-Yourself Uranus joke.)














Some recently-elusive people will start returning their phonecalls and emails. (ContractorBoi? CuteBoiInTights? Ya know, it’d be nice if, when people were gonna stop returning your phone calls, they’d make one last phone call to tell ya WHY. Just sayin’.)


Today as Mercury changes directions, you can expect one last blast of mayhem; after that, it's smoother sailing. (Mayhem, you say? No way! Henway! (What’s a henway? About a pound and a half. (Mayday! Mayday! Mayday! Joke overboard!)))


Your financial statements will start to make more sense, (And yet, no dollars.)


there will be fewer annoying glitches (One would imagine that “annoying” would be inherent in the meaning of “glitches”. But then, One would imagine that a “professional” Ass(tromalogical) Ho(roscopulist) would have an editor to put a stop to such inanities.)


when it comes to dealing with money, and if you're trying to buy or sell something, (Anybody want a kidney?)


you can expect a lot less confusion and upset. (We were holding out for upfusion and conset. Nothing EVER goes Our way.)


Hallelujah! (Go fu(k yerself. Bee-yotch.)






(Your YOUR-O-Scopes:






http://www.humorscope.com




Cowgrass. Pleasure you want. Protection you trust.)