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Wednesday, June 30, 2010

I love Lucy, and she loves me

Greetings, Excretory Recreation Includes Coprophagia---

(Oh, look it up.)

Here is your horoscope for Wednesday, June 30, 2010 (Happy (We think) birthday to the lovely and talented Willam, who turns twenty-four today (We think (We think “today”, We mean. We know his Ass(tromalogical) Ho(roscopular) sign, but for some reason We have conflicting dates in Our calendars from Days Gone By. (If you were (subjunctively) Days Gone By, wouldn’t it be cuter to call yourself “Days Gone Bye-Bye”? Discuss.))) And Happy Hump Day to the rest of all y’all.):

(We are woefully behind in Our catching up on chores, errands, and what-not from being away for a week, but We didn’t want to neglect to give you this (actually courtesy of Willam) to give you a little direction in your day: .)

Eh-beh-deh, eh-beh-deh, eh-beh that’s all, folks.)

(Here is Our Our-O-Scope, if anyone would care to explain it to Us.)

Heaven help anyone who is under the mistaken impression that they can take you today, regardless of whether the challenge is verbal, physical or intellectual. If the individual has needed their comeuppance for some time, go ahead and administer it -- but gently. You're attracted, but for the life of you, you can't figure out why. Think of this as a gift, and don't shake the box until it's time to open it. You silver-tongued devil! Get thee in front of the powers that be, and start chatting them up. There's no way they'll refuse you now.

(Your YOUR-O-Scopes:

have you driven a cowgrass lately?)

Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Dust in the wind, all we are is dust in the wind

Greetings, Ethelred’s Ready, Ivan’s Catastrophic---

(Look at Us, plumbing the depths of Our historical knowledge. But you know what They say: those who cannot dismember history are doomed to defeat it. (Why do They say that? It doesn’t even make any sense. Who ARE these people, and why does anyone let them talk, let alone listen to Them?))

Here is your horoscope for Tuesday, June 29, 2010 (Happy What-Would-Be-Our-Monday, if We had (subjunctively) such a thing as a work week. We were travelling yesterday. On the AmCrack. There was a blind man with a seeing eye dog, and a Jewish couple in their 90s (or possibly hundreds), and an artist carrying a paintbox and an easel and actually wearing a beret. We felt like an extra in an Irwin Allen disaster movie. Fortunately, We made it across the Susquehanna Bridge without incident. Tell Manny to give this to Our grandson.):

(Micro$oft Weird™ wants Us, for some reason, to capitalize the “Seeing Eye” in “Seeing Eye dog”. We cannot possibly get interested enough to investigate why.)

(We did, however, bestir Our fat @ss in an effort to illustrate “Susquehanna Bridge” with a suitably impressive pixture, which you can see here: . (Every so often, We like to throw Our geek friends a bone. ‘Cause, seriously…geeks with boners? HAWTT!))

(We would ask if you missed Us, but We suspect you did not even realize We were gone. Sigh. This all had such grand potential when it started. Now it’s just more f@rts in the wind.)

(Our Our-O-Scope.)

Impatient? (Really, Bee-Yotch? REALLY? You STILL haven’t read that Ass(tromalogical) Ho(roscopulism) For Dumbasses book We sent you? Page One: the Aries Prayer: “God grant Us patience, RIGHT the fu(k NOW!”)

That's one way to put it. (You could also put in your thumb and pull out a plum, but We are trying so desperately to raise the cultural tone around here. (How the fu(k are We doin’?))

Of course, describing your current mood as volatile, explosive and extremely dangerous would work, too. (Why didn’t you just say that in the first place? @sshat.)

Does this mean you need to avoid any and all human contact? (What about human contact lenses? Did We mention that We have an eye appointment later? (Or perhaps Micro$oft Word™ would prefer that We say “Eye Appointment”. Because, if Micro$oft Word™ were (subjunctively) in junior high school, you would want to give it a wedgie.))

No. (Who let the Republiklans in here? (Speaking (but only peripherally) of politics, We would like to be as excited as We should be about another Obama appointment to the Supreme Court, except that that woman looks exactly like the most frightening boss We (or anyone else, for that matter) ever had.))

Only the ones you want to keep around for a while. (Aw. Now We’ve lost the thread. And it was clearly such an interesting one.)

You've had it with the supposed virtue of allowing each other to speak your minds. (Who is this “each other” of whom you speak? There’s only The Royal We, Ourself, and Us here. (This clearly ain’t yo’ Gramma’s grammar. (Whether it is Kelsey Grammer’s Gramma’s grammar remains to be seen.)))

You're thinking that a touch of reticence might be nice. (We think We have some in Our reticule. Lettuce just put a dab behind each ear, then We’ll scr3w each other on the fainting couch till We need Our smelling salts.)

You might be right. (You’re just NOW figgering that out?!?)

If you're even a teeny bit angry and you stand even the slightest chance of seeing the person who's inspired that fire, do yourself a favor. (Kill ‘em all and let G0d sort ‘em out?)

Call in sick. (We have no one to call. (Is it wrong that We’re still kind of glad about that?))

That pat on the back you've been waiting for? (Some people mix up their lefts and rights. Apparently, Kelli mixes up her backs and fronts.)

You won't have to wait much longer. (And We have no idea how to wait much shorter.)

The next sound you sound you hear will be a very hearty 'congratulations!' (No doubt because some well-meaning jackass mistakes Our enormosity for a pregnancy.)

(Your YOUR-O-Scopes:

what becomes a cowgrass most?)

Friday, June 18, 2010

I wear my sunglasses at night

Greetings, Emperor Rinses Invisible Clothes---

Here is your horoscope for Friday, June 18, 2010 (So didja miss Us? (How did those crickets get in here?) We were Otherwise Engaged yesterday. Had Ourselves a dinner guest, We did. Meanwhile, to segue (what’s a segue? About a pound and a half…) to today’s Eric’s Daily Horoscope Pixture Du Jour Au Jus Maurice Chevalier M Night Shyamalan Rama Lama Ding Dong (yes, of COURSE We had to look up how to spell “Shyamalan”. We are only mere mortals like yourselves. We put Our panties on one leg at a time, every Tuesday. And We strive for grammatical and linguistic perfection as We attempt to ensure that We have crossed every T and dotted every forehead. (Oh, please…like you didn’t see THAT coming?))…what were We talking about? Oh, yes; the pixture. We suspect that the young gentleman therein is merely posed for comic effect; We do not believe in his sign for a moment. Although, to segue back to Our own dinner guest, We do appreciate someone who recognizes puttanesca without being told. (There is a joke in all this somewhere, but We are damned if We can ferret it out. (It strikes Us that that becomes a whole different saying if you change it to “gerbil it out.” Discuss.)):

(Meanwhile, We left things unattended for one day, and some wacky Republiklan goes and apologizes to British Petroleum. What’ll those crazy, zany, madcap folks think up next? So, in honor of that particular travesty, here’s this, which is work-safe. You will want to refresh it a few times: )

(In still other news, We have Ourselves a jawb tomorrow. We do not, as of this writing, know what time, where, or what scripts We will be performing at said jawb, but We suspect that will all sort itself out shortly. Hi-ho, the glamorous life! (Who you callin’ ho?))

(Our Our-O-Scope.)

You're about to cross paths with someone who'll catch your fancy (Is that a euphemism? Because it sure does SOUND like a euphemism.)

and keep it for a good long time. (Well, or a good, long something-or-another.)

You'll recognize this person immediately by their wit, verbal quickness and -- oh, yes – (Their sign that says “Will fu(k for food”?)

that adoring look in their eyes. (Clearly, this person is deranged.)

Offer a sweet, thoughtful and totally unexpected gesture or token (What about a totally unexpected token gesture? (We would have said “gesture token”, but that just sounds like a made-up German pastry.))

(Look at Us…We are Funny In Tongues.)

to a dear one just because you know they need it. (What about what WE need? (Here’s a hint: it is neither a gesture nor a token.))

Let your instinct be your guide. (Or, let your insides be your stink.)

(What do We want? NONsense! When do We want it? NOUN!)

It's impossible to stop you from trying what you think you need to do, (If you think THAT’S impossible, you should try stopping Us from frying things. (Especially Unidentified Frying Objects. (Insert Godzirra joke here.)))

and even more difficult to talk you out of saying what's on your mind. (It is relatively simple, however, to talk Us INTO saying We’re OUT OF Our minds. (The Royal We makes pluralization complexicated. Not to mention subject-verb agreement. It’s more like subject-verb no-fault divorce.))

Forget trying to stay out of the spotlight, because it's out of the question now. (So wait…We’re trying to stay out of the question? What does that even MEAN?)

Wear sunscreen if you have to -- the glare will be intense. (Mmm-hmm. The future’s so bright, We got to wear shades.)

(Your YOUR-O-Scopes:

cowgrass…when you care enough to send the very best)

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

It’s a lovely day for drinking and for watching people die

Greetings, Enjoy Rewinding Infinite Cassette---

(Our younger readers (i.e. the pre-twenty-four-year-old set), Fluffy, and Binky, and Shaniqua, et. al., are all like, “What the fu(k is a “cassette”…oh, look! Sparkles!” (We can’t even imagine how they’re processing Archie and Jughead.))

(Micro$oft Weird™, meanwhile, is processing it by pretending that “Jughead” isn’t a word. This is NOT the day to fu(k with Us, Micro$oft Weird™.)

Here is your horoscope for Wednesday, June 16, 2010 (Happy Anniversary to Our Sistah Ovella and her husband, Teddy-Jay. And Happy Hump Day to the rest of all y’all. We Our Own Self Personally are in a Foul Humor today, so Happy Foul Humor Day to Us. (Don’t even THINK about using that as an excuse to tell chicken jokes. We are in full control of Our homonyms, ThankYouVeryMuch. In fact, Our homonyms are wearing control-top pantyhose. And We have them listed alphabetically in a homonymnal, so everybody can sing along. As the medieval torturer said to the recent castrati, “Follow the bouncing balls!”)):

(Nothing like a little castrati joke to cheer Us right on up.)

(Our Our-O-Scope.)

This particular astrological time period should come with a mandatory warning label to be worn by the temporary purveyor of said energy until the effects have passed. (Wow. Look at all those words. All in a row. With the occasional verb thrown in to help them masquerade as a sentence. Good thing they don’t actually mean anything, or there’d be hell’s toupee.)

What might that label read? (Do not remove under penalty of law. Close cover before striking. Slippery when wet. Objects in the rearview mirror may be closer than they appear.)

'For your own safety, avoid irritating me -- and if you do, hide the scissors.' (Okay, enough with the castrati jokes. This is as cheered up as We’re gonna get.)

Find something to do with all that red-hot energy you'll be carting around. (With all this castration, We went and had Ourself a purse made out of scrotums (scroti? (Micro$oft Weird™ suggests “scrota”. Do We trust Micro$oft Weird™ with Our ballsacs? We don’t think so.)). So, if We’re “carting” anything “around”, it’ll be in Our bag. (We would’ve called it a “clutch”, but all the bois’ legs were already crossed.))

Make sure it's physical. (Let me hear your body talk, your body talk. (Our body says, “Fu(k you.”))

You can quite literally get anyone to join your team, (Paging Johnny Depp…Johnny Depp to the white courtesy phone…)

see your point (It’s on Our head. Next to the hole.)

or donate to your cause. (Or donuts to your case. (Ooops…We said “nuts” again.))

All you have to do is show up, speak and smile pretty. (Shouldn’t “carry a big d1ck” be in there somewhere? (We DID just mention Johnny Depp.))

(Your YOUR-O-Scopes:

time to make the cowgrass)

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Everybody loves Louis, him as well as his cakes

Greetings, Ecclesiastic Robe In Chiffon---

Here is your horoscope for Tuesday, June 15, 2010 (If it’s Tuesday, this must be Belgrade. However, We are going to talk about the Lebanese. Yes, indeed, ladies and genitals, it has come to Our attention that We here at Eric’s Daily Horoscope have been seriously under-serving a significant portion of Our readership, namely Our l3sbian sisters (brothers? One gets so confused…) Why, We even throw Our str8 boi readers a bone (heh) from time to time, but Our l3sbian readers (do We even HAVE l3sbian readers?)? Not so much. (We just went back and put the hyphen in “under-serving” because, without it, it looked like a misspelling of “undeserving”, and We didn’t want a misspelling to confuse Tori Spelling. (How’d SHE get in here?) The things We do for YouPeople.) So here, in a token effort to begin l3sbian reparations (did that sound dirty to you?) is a little song. It is work-safe (as long as it’s safe at your work to say the word “”l3sbian” about fifty-two kabillion times), and it stars a bunch of British Muppets. (You can tell they are British Muppets because they are uncircumcised, and have bad teeth. (Well, actually, you can’t tell from the video that they are uncircumcised, because (A.) they are Muppets and (2.) they are (mostly) female Muppets. (You also can’t tell that they have bad teeth, because the two lead Muppets are birds. (Not “birds” in the British slang sense of “girls” (the way an American might say “chicks”), but ACTUAL birds with, ya know, wings. And beaks. And NO TEETH. (Oh dear lord Jeebus, lead Us out of this morass of parentheticalization (and into more @ss (no, that’s not it….oh, just go look at the d@mn song.)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))):

(If you know a l3sbian who might enjoy the preceding, please feel free to recommend Eric’s Daily Horoscope to her. (You DO recommend Eric’s Daily Horoscope to your friends, don’t you? You don’t just keep it all to your selves like selfish little Selfish McSelfishtons…DO YOU?))

(Our Our-O-Scope.)

Your words may not be magical, (Abra ka-fu(king-dabra, Bay-Bee.)

but their effects will be. (Pooooooffff!)

Feel free to spread them around liberally. (We do pretty much everything liberally.)

Make it a point to get involved in a family dispute, (Oh, please, no.)

or help a friend work out a touchy relationship situation. (Honey, if you’re at work, and you’re having a touchy relationship? You’re a pr0stitute, and We can’t help you.)

Isn't it high time that you and that certain someone had an elegant evening out? (Isn’t it high time that We had a certain someone? We seem to recall asking for such a thing for Our birthday. Did We have so much as ONE date? We did not. We didn’t even have a fig. Or a kumquat. B1tches.)

Sure it is. (For three words, We’re supposed to fire up Our Irish brogue? We don’t think so. We belong to a union.)

So what's the hold up? (It’s a criminal activity with robbers and guns. Jeebus. You don’t watch much television, do you?)

Got reservations? (Grave, GRAVE reservations.)

You can create cooperation with amazing ease, (But if you create evaporation with an amazing c00ze, you’ll REALLY have something.)

even among those coworkers who were previously plotting each other's demise. (Yet another reason why We’re ever-so-glad not to have coworkers.)

Oh, and during your lunch hour, offer your services as a hostage negotiator. (Screw that noise. Kill ‘em all and let G0d sort ‘em out…Imma eat my sammich.).

(Your YOUR-O-Scopes:

raise your hands, raise your hands if you’re cowgrass)

Monday, June 14, 2010

Who is that b1tch, hollering “CLOWNS!”?

Greetings, Enterprising Renter Inflates Condom-inium---

Here is your horoscope for Monday, June 14, 2010 (Happy Fag Day, y’all! (What? Oh. Never mind.)):

(OhMyDearz, what a busy, active, jam-packed, fun-filled weekend We’ve had! Why, We barely even know where to start.)

(Our Our-O-Scope.)

(Heh. That was a little humor there.)

(Here is a little story about Hollywood. (Parenthetically (hence the parentheses), We wish We could find an article that We read around the finale of Lost, which was all about how the movies have become so dumbed-down that people are deserting them for serial (mostly cable) television.):

(Once upon a time, Hollywood accidentally gave an Oscar™ to Some Ugly Guy for appearing in some Holocaust movie. Because there can never be enough of THOSE, ya know; they’re practically The New Western. Said Ugly Guy thus continued to hang about Hollywood, accumulating, according to Wikipedia, a resume of roles he was considered for but did not play. He did not, for instance, play Spock in the latest Star Trek Wars, nor did he play the Joker in the latest Batman. He did, however, get cast as one of the titular (heh…We love that word) brothers in The Brothers Bloom, which has been lying about Our living room waiting to be seen for months now. (You will have guessed, from the plural “Brothers” that there were more than one. There were two, in fact. The second one was less ugly. But more potato-like. (We are avoiding using their names in the hope that, if We don’t name them, they’ll go away.) The female love interest? Had Asperger’s syndrome. (The character, not (presumably) the actress.) Because THAT’S hot. ) Fifteen minutes into the thing, We were able to predict the entire rest of the movie. We did not, however, WATCH the entire rest of the movie, as We turned it off when the leading “lady” was forced to utter something akin to the following: “You are constipated in your fu(king soul.” And the Oscar™ for Best Screenplay goes to…)

(In other cultural news, We dropped by the Tony™s briefly last night. Because We? Are g@y. (Not that there’s any evidence of that.) We were forced to turn THAT off when Catherine Zeta-Jones, who We were unaware had a speech impediment, took a hatchet to Send in the Clowns. She sang it much as though she were (subjunctively) Patti LuPone. Singing The Star-Spangled Banner. On the deck of the Titanic. As if her being the twin that had the Toni™ depended on it. Gad!)

It will be all too easy for you to get exactly what you want -- and to give your dear ones exactly what they want, too. (Mmm-hmm. Unicorns farting cinnamon-scented rainbows all around! And an extra-well-hung unicorn for Catherine-the-Great-a-Zeta-Jones! (Has it really been an entire month since We’ve done a Catherine the Great joke? (Come on and blow Gabriel, blow!))

(That was a Patti LuPone callback joke, combined with a very suBtle punctuation joke. And if ya think THAT’S funny, you should hear Our knock-knock joke about knockers.)

Does this mean you'll be in a Santa frame of mind? (That depends…is “sliding down the chimney” a euphemism?)

Maybe. (She sees Us when We’re sleeping, she knows when We’re awake…)

Who cares when the goodies arrive, as long as they arrive? (I saw Goodies Arrive with the Devil.)

(That was a little Creussical: The Musical joke. For the Arthur Miller fans in the house.)

It's not your imagination. (So We were just imagining that it was Our imagination?)

You're due for some recognition -- and for that, it's definitely about time. (Is that recognition accompanied by remuneration? ‘Cause seriously, folks…)

Have that meeting with the powers that be as soon as possible. (We’ll get right on that.)

They want to help. (Mmm-hmm. Folks can’t even answer Our emails, and We’re expected to believe somebody wants to help Us.)

All you have to do is show up with yet another brilliant idea. (Drive-thru wh0rehouse.)

(What? BRILLLLLLLLiant!)

(Your YOUR-O-Scopes:

which twin has the cowgrass?)

Friday, June 11, 2010

They got one thing in common: fire down below.

Greetings, Effusive Refusal Infuriates Confucius---

(Also, Moses supposes his toeses are roses, but Moses supposes erroneously.)

Here is your horoscope for Friday, June 11, 2010 (Happy birthday to Bill, who turns twenty-four today somewhere in the Poconos. (“Poconos”, it occurs to Us, is one of those words that appears perfectly normal to those of Us from this particular geographic region, and yet, to the rest of all y’all, probably appears as ridiculous as people saying they are “going to the Piggly-Wiggly”. (Or, for that matter, the Wawa. (If We do in fact eventually turn into Andy Rooney, can We please still remember to trim Our eyebrows?)))):

(We accidentally typed “to trim” as “tot rim”. Micro$oft Weird™ objected with a blue “word choice” squiggle. Because apparently they don’t have a specifically colored squiggle for child p0rnography.)

(You decent folk in Our readership (both of you) may take a while to get that one. In fact, you may not ever get it. So how ‘bout you just congratulate yourselves on your moral rectumtude, and let’s move on.)

(As you can see (and probably smell), We still have a paucity of material. A dearth, if you will. (Or even if you won’t…who gives a fu(k?) We are, however, trying desperately to make up for yesterday’s abbreviated Eric’s Daily Horoscope, which was more like Eric’s Daily Haiku.)

(Haikus are simple,

But sometimes they don’t make sense.


(In other news, We went out last night. Dinner, and the theater, and cocktails afterwards, jes’ like da white folk. We saw the one-man show I Am My Own Wife at the Adrienne. We would recommend that you go see it, but you don’t even come to see Our shows, so why would We bother? It stars the guy who directed Us in Creussical: The Musical, which a very few of you long-time Eric’s Daily Horoscope readers will recall being discussed in these pages Back In The Day (Doris Day, to be precise). This was, of course, when Eric’s Daily Horoscope was written on parchment paper and delivered by carrier pigeon. (One or two of you may have been getting it delivered by smoke signals, as this was also before We quit smoking. (See, We can wave Our rectumtude around, too.)) We actually have a few of those horoscopes preserved (as cave paintings), but We are saving ‘em up for Our memoirs. (You will have assumed, and quite correctly, We might add, that We are saving ‘em up for Our memoirs in Our armoire. Which is nowhere near the credenza, and, thus, not in the time machine.))

(The preceding paragraph was mostly funny only to those who have been diligently reading every word of these pages since The Dawn Of Time. Since, at last count, both such people have been institutionalized, it really wasn’t funny to anybody except Us Our Own Selves. Too bad, so sad, @nal s3x with your dad.)

(Our Our-O-Scope.)

Patience pays off today, (Unfortunately, as an ARIES, We ain’t got any patience. Also, We are so poor, We cannot even pay attention.)

though it may feel like it's costing you everything to deploy it. (On the plus side, We probably have a coupon.)

If you sit still and just listen while friends or coworkers rant, (In order to have coworkers, One would need to have a JAWB. (Shudder.))

you can learn enough to get moving quickly. (Throw a cup of Metamucil™ in some sauerkraut and you will achieve the same result.)

(That was a little p00p joke. Because p00p is funny to everybody, and We are magnanimous.)

Things start to move quickly today (P00P!!!)

— but you can keep up, as always. (We were about to tell a joke using the p00p metaphor “dropping the kids off at the pool”. But then We got caught up in the fact that that’s really not an apt metaphor. Because you really don’t ever go back and pick the kids UP from the pool. (Do you? (Please don’t answer that.)))

You’re quite fiery, especially when it’s time to speak your mind (Especially when We’re on fire. Or when We’ve been fired.)

— or ask for answers you know you deserve. (Ask Ethel Merman’s mulatto chimpanzee…what’s the best eunuch? Tricky Dick Cheney.)

(You DID just sing that last bit, didn’t you? It’s to the tune of the old Chicken-of-the-Sea™ tuna jingle. Proper scansion requires mispronouncing “Cheney” as “chay-KNEE” instead of “CHAY-knee”, but We don’t think he’ll mind. Although We wouldn’t go hunting with him any time soon. (Meanwhile, if you have any idea what We’re talking about (the tuna jingle part, not the Dick Cheney part) you are really, really old.))

You’ve never been shy about asking those questions, either, even if they’re not polite. (Did you pick your kids up from the pool?)

Now that you’ve got a hot topic on your mind (Hot Topic is not punk rock.)

and you know there’s no other way to solve it than to ask around, (Before We try that, can We try solving it by SLEEPING around?)

you’re more than willing to risk tarnishing your reputation (Oh, please.)

a little to get the answers you’re after. (We don’t even know what the question is.)

Temper your straightforward approach with a lighter, funnier manner. (You know what? If you use that sentence three times in a sentence, it’ll be yours. Because We sure as h3ll don’t want it.)

That doesn’t mean that you have to play dumb or act like a ditz, but why push it when you’re still just getting to know someone? (Because if you push the kids out of the car, they go in the pool faster. (In Our case, of course, it’s a minivan. Although there’s precious little “mini” about it. Driving Our kids around in a tractor-trailer, We are. It’s a miracle We can get ‘em NEAR the pool.))

(This space left intentionally blank for all y’all to do your own Shelley Winters joke.)

(Your YOUR-O-Scopes:

only good-tasting cowgrass get to be Scarface)

Thursday, June 10, 2010

Theme from Deliverance

Greetings, Egghead Rereads Ivanhoe Cliffnotes---

Here is your horoscope for Thursday, June 10, 2010 (Happy birthday to Kevin, who is turning twenty-four today somewhere in the wilds of Oregon, which is also, coincidentally, the home of VodkaMom. Perhaps they shall run into each other…you will know it is Kevin because Kevin would be Johnny Depp if Johnny Depp were (subjunctively) a RealPerson and not a MovieStar. VM, if you DO run into him, perhaps you would be kind enough to tell him that, while Oregon is a lovely place to visit, you wouldn’t want to live there.):

(The spickerdoodles are SINGING this morning. Why will no one come and kill Us?)

(We are having a Slim-Fast™ bar for breakfast. Of course, We are so fat, We should probably eat the whole box.)

(And that’s all We’ve got. The Funny, she fails Us.)

(Our Our-O-Scope.)

Going off in the wrong direction might be easy, and would definitely feel better than doing nothing at all. But if you can stand to restrain yourself for just two short weeks, anything is possible. Isn't waiting better than acting rashly? Sure it is. (Okay, what the h3ll’s happening in two weeks? Should We be afraid?)

(Your YOUR-O-Scopes:

Lose cowgrass now…ask me how!)

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

Vi-O-Lated in her slumber…Mackie, how much did you charge?

Greetings, Ectomorphic Rhinoceros Ingests Celery---

Here is your horoscope for Wednesday, June 09, 2010 (Happy birthday to Sharon, who turns twenty-four today. Also, happy birthday to Doug, who also turns twenty-four today. (Although if Doug is still actually reading these horoscopes, We’ll eat…well, something that We no doubt shouldn’t be eating.) And of course, lassoed but not leased, lashed but not leafed, latte unlisted Franz Liszt, and a whole lotta other L words Lotte Lenya, happy birthday to Johnny Depp, who also also turns twenty-four today, on (naturally) Hump Day. One hump or two, dromedary didgeridoo, inky dinky parlez vous. (As you can tell, We are just a tad verklempt at the thought that, somewhere in The Universe (possibly France), Johnny Depp is eating cake. No, seriously. He is HAVING his cake, and EATING IT, too. Sigh.)):

(There were four “also”s in the preceding paragraph. Which is alsomost, but not quite, enough for a rousing round of “Where’s Walso?” (As you may have already noticed, We got nothin’ this morning. All those birthday folk humping each other have left Us fresh out of funny.))

(Then and again, exactly how funny can an installment of Eric’s Daily Horoscope be when it has already referenced Franz Liszt and Lotte Lenya?)

(Lois Lane, Larry Linville, Lucy Liu.)


(Our Our-O-Scope.)

Like it or not (Shouldn’t that be “like it or lump it”? (While wearing a Bump-It™ and eating a crumpet? (Meanwhile, in the true Eric’s Daily Horoscope spirit of Inquiring Minds Who Want To Know, We just went a-Googling on Wikipedia to ascertain just exactly what “lump it” in the phrase “like it or lump it” means. The origin is, apparently, unknown, although most American scholars take it to mean “shove it (up your @ss)”. One lone Brit (who appeared to have done some actual research) unearthed an obsolete meaning for “lump” as “to sulk”. The Americans promptly shoved said meaning up his @ss.)))

-- and you probably won't (Listen, Bee-Yotch, there were three parentheticals in between here and the beginning of your stupid sentence…”probably won’t” WHAT?)

-- you'll need to rearrange your schedule today to accommodate the whims of higher-ups, who, for some reason, won't see the urgency you do in keeping to a set routine. (Well. How very mysterious and murky. We do, in fact, have a wee project afoot later, but We cannot talk about it just yet, as it is all very hush-hush, Sweet Charlotte, keep it down now, voices carry. (Pop culture hot, pop culture cold, pop culture in the blender, whip, puree, frappe.))

(Paging RuPaul…RuPaul to the white courtesy phone, please…)

Deal with it. (Shove it up your @ss.)

There's something to be said for flexibility. (Especially when attempting to shove things up your @ss.)

Remember Mom asking you at least a thousand times if everyone else jumped off the bridge, would you? (If We’ve told you once, We’ve told you a million times: don’t exaggerate. Also, no.)

If you're not sure, at least invest in a parachute. (Or some kind of shoot, anyway. (Probably not a bumbershoot, though. And definitely not a bamboo shoot. Because what the h3ll are you going to accomplish with just one bamboo shoot? (See, YouPeople can go blithely about your daily lives because you’ve got Us here to worry about these things.)))

Your quest right now is this: Does the end always justify the means? (No, but if it mystifies the jeans, then apparently they DO make you look fat.)


If you're in doubt, don't cock the trigger. (Oh, see, now. Sometimes, the jokes just make themselves.)

(Your YOUR-O-Scopes:

because Cowgrass Fahms remembuhs)

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

Nice work you did…you’re gonna go far, kid

Greetings, Exhibiting Recalcitrance Inspires Counterdemonstration---

Here is your horoscope for Tuesday, June 08, 2010 (Sigh. This is the time of year when One generally bounds out of bed first thing in the morning, champing at the bit (whatever the h3ll THAT means) to accomplish things. Which is all well and good, if the things are solitary stupid houseworkesque tasks such as, say, cleaning the toilet bowl, which, once the task is accomplished, results in a clean toilet bowl, and not much else. If, however, the things One is attempting to accomplish are actual real-world forward-moving goal-type things, One will eventually encounter, in the course of trying to accomplish them, that point at which, in order for the task to progress further, Other People have to Do Something. Now, this “Something” may be so simple as answering One’s phone call, but, trust Us, eventually, these Other People will make you stop champing at the bit (if you ever figgered out what the h3ll that meant in the first place) and make you want to go directly back to bed (assuming there aren’t any Other People there). Because Other People move in mysterious ways. (By “move in mysterious ways”, of course, We mean “don’t move at all.”) Sigh.)

(We put “Sigh” at the beginning and end for symmetry. It’s called “sigh-to-sigh symmetry”. It’s the linguistic equivalent of wall-to-wall carpeting. This paragraph, meanwhile, is complete bullsh1t, and exists solely to be much shorter than the preceding one, and, thus, more pleasing to the eye.)

(Hey, a full three-quarters of all y’all who even bothered to open this are only nakedly skimming; we are totally gonna be about style rather than content.)

(In still other news, Happy Johnny Depp’s Birthday Eve.)

(Meanwhile, lest today’s episode be totally devoid of entertainment, We don’t think We have yet shared this with you. It is by the lovely and talented Gregory G0DD@MN! G., whom long-time readers will recall as the love-child of Christian Slater and the late, lamented River Phoenix, and is entitled The Adventures of the Dog Who Can Talk and the Cat Who Is Jealous That the Dog Can Talk and the Cat Cannot Talk. It is work-safe. (It’s a talking dog, fercrissakes. (YouPeople have Mister Ed p0rn fantasies, don’t’cha?))  )

(Our Our-O-Scope.)

You could be most persuasive with others and eloquent in speech and communication. (Or at least We could if they would, oh, I don’t know, answer Our fu(king phone calls.)

The initiative is yours and you will find positive results will develop from your actions. (Blah-blah-blah, whatevercakes. Meanwhile, the replace-the-façade (We LURRRRVVVVE how Micro$oft Weird™ automatically puts that little Frawnch squiggly thing under the C in “façade”. (By “little Frawnch squiggly thing”, We mean, of course, “clit0ris”. (Everybody who thought they’d never see THAT word in an Eric’s Daily Horoscope now owes Us a dollar. (Str8 bois owe Us TWO dollars.)))) project next door has devolved from a lot of drilling to a lot of pounding to a lot of spickerdoodles arguing with each other. Those poor folk ain’t NEBBER gonna get a face back on they house.)

(We were just about to publish, but We had to come back in and edit to tell you that the spickerdoodles are now SINGING to each other. But not, presumably, Spanish techno.)

This is a day to take risks and dare to be a little unconventional. (Us? Unconvetnional? Quel frommage!)

There are new insights, inventions and an independent point of view. (Okay, that? Sounds like a lotta work.)

Your career could open up by taking the road less traveled, (Kiss Us quick, We’re Robert Frost! (Also, We’re a poet, but We are unaware of it.))

or by daring to be the oddball. (The same thing, oddly enough, could be accomplished by offering to be the hairball. Discuss.)

Growth and success could be tied to your possessions or to the way you respond to the various ideas and impulses operating in your life now. (Alternatively, a lot of random words could be strung together and We could all pretend they formed a coherent sentence.)

This may mean the connection you have with your teachers, partners, hobbies or the competitions that you enter. (Now, see, that particular sentence would be a lot more specific (and a lot more interesting) if it read “your teacher’s partner’s hobbies”.)

Your day ends with the most positive of attitudes. (Well, DUH! It’s easy to be positive when You’re going back to bed.)

(Your YOUR-O-Scopes:

the cowgrass goes in before the name goes on)

Monday, June 7, 2010

When I start extracting those molars, you girls’ll be screaming like Holy Rollers

Greetings, Elated Relations Inflate Congregation---

Here is your horoscope for Monday, June 07, 2010 (Happy belated birthday to Bill, who turned twenty-four over the weekend. And happy belated D-Day, to all Our friends who stutter.):

(Yes, indeed, We ARE funny first thing in the morning. It’s a good thing We sleep alone.)

(Speaking of people who SHOULD sleep alone, you may have heard by now that Rush Limbaugh spent the weekend upholding The Sanctity Of Marriage by getting married for the FOURTH time to some fame-seeking cr@ck-wh0re half his age. It seems We may have finally figgered out why these morons want to deny marriage equality to the rest of Us…perhaps it’s simply that they believe there are only a finite number of marriages to go around, and how can someone like Mister Limbaugh have his sacred FOURTH if they start allowing a whole bunch of extra people who were never allowed before to have ONE? On the other hand, shouldn’t this all be a moot point? Didn’t this particular douchenozzle promise to move to Costa Rica when health care reform passed? Isn’t he gone yet?)

(Meanwhile, closer to home, the result of Friday’s episode of Drill, Baby, Drill (and parenthetically, shouldn’t any jackass who ever chanted “drill, baby, drill” currently be in the Gulf of Mexico, oh, I don’t know, ACCOMPLISHING something?) was the complete removal of the façade of the house next door. (Turns out, it was actually a wigwam all along. (Heh…see what We did there?)) Today, apparently, they are starting to put it back. This appears to involve a great deal more pounding than drilling. We, meanwhile, have a dentist appointment later.)

(That was actually less a non sequitur and more of a nun sequitur. Let’s just call it Sister Mary Sequitur.)

(In other news, We finished watching the second season of Damages this weekend. Damages, for those who are unaware, stars Glenn Close and is about lawyers. We felt dirtier after looking at a season of that than We felt after looking at a season of The Sopranos. Which, for those who are unaware (don’t you people ever get out?), starred James Gandolfini and was about the mob.)

(In still other news, you may have heard of the g@y McDonald's ad currently airing in France, with the theme "Come as you are".  Here, by way of parody, is this, which is Le Work-Safe:


(Our Our-O-Scope.)

There's nothing about your behavior at the moment that can be described as even remotely normal. (And this makes today different from any other day HOW exactly?)

Fortunately, you're going to love every minute of it. (Mmm-hmm. ‘Cause there’s nothing like a trip to the dentist to make ya love stuff.)

If anyone actually has the nerve to ask what's up, there's only one thing to say: You're exploring with your inner child -- and loving every minute! (Our inner child is, apparently, a Mongoloid idiot.)

You're not in the mood to forgive or forget (However, We’ve got hankerin’ to foreskin.)

(Heh. We just put that in there to see if OurShaun was awake. (Hi, Shaun!))

-- as your current companion has been made aware. (We may, on the other hand, have neglected to mention it to Our crumpet curmudgeon And Our carpet competition is totally out of the loop.)

(What do We want? NONsense! When do We want it? Nine!)

No pouting, and no fair getting even at a later date. (Also, no petting, and no fair grouting, even if your daughter’s late. (Hmmm….suddenly, We took a not-entirely-unexpected turn for the wurst.))

You're about to learn the true meaning of the expression 'wired for sound.' (Well, good. Because We do so love learning things.)

You'll be excited, amped and running on high. (Which is all well and good, until you picture it in the dentist’s chair.)

Fortunately, your new fans will really appreciate it. (Wait…We have FANS?!?)

(Your YOUR-O-Scopes:

4 out of 5 dentists recommend cowgrass to their patients who chew grass)

Friday, June 4, 2010

Sing me Spanish techno

Greetings, Ebullient Regis Introduces Charo---

Here is your horoscope for Friday, June 04, 2010 (Today’s Eric’s Daily Horoscope is essentially just a follow-up to yesterday’s, so if you didn’t read (or only n@kedly skimmed) that, We’ll pause here while you go catch up. (Something tells Us We lost Our str8 boi readers at the Eric’s Daily Horoscope Pixture Du Jour Au Jus Mon Frere Jacques Brel Is Alive And Well And Living In Hello Kitty Carlisle.) If it were (subjunctively) NOT just a follow-up to yesterday’s horoscope, We would have to tell you what is really p1ssing Us off, and that would require enough backstory to fill a novel co-written by Tolstoy and Dickens. (That novel, for those inquiring minds who would like to know, would be entitled War and Peace, and Then Some More War, followed by A Short Period of Peace (Without Prosperity), Then A Lengthy War Between Two Countries Where Everybody Has the Same Last Name, Then A Little More Peace, Oh, And There Are Orphans.)) :

(It’s a long way to Litter Airy.)

(You will first recall Us petting Our peeve yesterday (did that sound dirty to you?) about people defrienditizing Us on SitOnMyFaceBook, and daring all y’all to dare Us to post a link to Our heavily petted peeve on the SitOnMyFaceBook pages of three people who have recently subjected Us to defrienditization. We were, in fact, thus dared (thanks, Dena!), but it turns out that, if you aren’t someone‘s friend, you can’t post on their page. (We could send them a private message, but We were much more interested in PUBLIC heavy peeve petting. Sigh.))

(You will Seconal recall that Our Neighbor Who Plays The Drums has embarked on some extremely noisy course of Home Improvement involving drills, jackhammers, and hydrogen bombs, (but not, presumably, Jonathan Taylor Thomas’s tool). The adventure continued again today, with the cacophony once again commencing at eight o’clock in the g0dd@mn morning. Our neighbor is not, however, committing this atrocity his own self. No, he has hired an entire family of spickerdoodles to bang his drum slowly (and whack his piñata loudly) while cavorting upon the newly-erected scaffolding (yes, boyzzz and gurrrlzz, We said “scaffolding”; it looks like the fu(king French Revolution over here.) So, in addition to Our primary complaint (about the G0DD@MN NOISE, in case you weren’t listening (or had gone deaf)), We have several other issues: why did the hydrogen bombing have to begin at eight AM, when it was over by 8:30? Why is the front of OurHouseWhereWeLive cordoned off with crime scene tape, which encircles Our recycling bin as well, thereby ensuring that the trash monkeys will never collect Our trash? Is it unsafe to step outside Our house? If We do, will We be headwhacked (“headwhacked” is, of course, a word analogous to “bushwhacked”, except it means “to be whacked in the HEAD”) and put into a coma? And, if We DO wind up in a coma, will anyone be able to tell? But, most importantly, why, if One is forced to deal with this entire situation, can the Latinos toiling shirtlessly in the sun not resemble Ricky Martin or a young Antonio Banderas, instead of Dora the Explorer’s ugly older brother, Quasimodo (who was not even good enough to be a real Modo)?)

(Okay, that, there, was a whole lotta pop culture and wordplay goin’ on. But no rest for the weirdoes…)

(Our Our-O-Scope.)

Telling you to lighten up would be easy (Telling Us to wear blackface for the rest of the day, on the other hand, would be a rittle bit lacist. (But probably pretty funny. Especially if We rode the subway.))

-- unfortunately, at the moment, you won't be able to pull that off. (No, right now, We’re typing. We’ll pull one off a little later.)

So rather than pretending that the current state of affairs isn't bothering you, do just the opposite. (Pretend that the current fate of the stairs is bothering Us? What does that even MEAN?)

Wallow in the unfairness of it all. (Oh, please. Like We need to be encouraged.)

Then get up tomorrow and start over. (Well, at least We’d like to HOPE that, on a Saturday, the Frito Bandito and Sancho Pansy will be siesta-ing somewhere, instead of blowing things up in Our neighborhood.)

No, you never expected to actually be attracted to someone like him/her (We did, however, expect to have a clearer understanding of what its gender was.)

-- but it happened. (Didja ever notice how difficult it is, once things have happened, to get them to unhappen? There’s probably a reason why “unhappen” isn’t a word.)

Don't fight it. (See discussions earlier this week re: The Funk.)

It's exhilarating, and such fun to see your loved ones squirm! (Just wait till We borrow Juan Valdez’s jackhammer!)

(Your YOUR-O-Scopes:

Ai-yi-yi-yi, I am the cowgrass bandito)

Thursday, June 3, 2010

She came in through the bathroom window

(Clearly, We are having a caption contest…)

Greetings, Egregious Registrar’s Ingenious Congeniality---

Here is your horoscope for Thursday, June 03, 2010 (Before We even begin, We must just tell you that We happened upon a photograph of Paul McCartney being given some award or another by President Obama. Paul McCartney looks for all the world like Judi Dench with no lipstick on. Wuzzup wit DAT?):

(Today’s pet peeve: (“pet peeve” is an odd phrase, no? It would appear to mean either that One has a pet who is peevish, or, conversely, that One has a pet who is a peeve, whom One may or may not be petting (but probably not heavily (heh)). Because it is an ENGLISH phrase, however, it means neither of those things. (Just think, if We were (subjunctively) a lot of Chinamen, We wouldn’t know WHAT the fu(k We were talking about)) …sorry; We digressed. (Debbil with a blue dress, blue dress, blue dress, debbil with a blue dress on). Ooops…now We’ve bigressed. (That means We’ve digressed twice. (Once with each gender.)))

(Let’s just start all over again, shall We? Today’s pet peeve: people who defriend One on SitOnMyFaceBook without One knowing why. “Well, I’ll show HIM!” they no doubt chuckle as they click whatever clicky thing has to be clicked to accomplish defriendification. Well, no, @ssmunch; no, you won’t. Because if you defriend Us, and We have no idea why, all you have “shown Us” is that you are a delusional @sshole with imaginary issues and too much time on your hands.)

(Now who dares Us to go post this on the SitOnMyFaceBook pages of three people who have defriended Us lately?)

(Also, Dear Micro$oft Weird™: get with the fu(king new millennial program: “defriend” is so too a word. KThxBye.)

(In other news, Our Neighbor Who Plays The Drums has begun some lesbionic home improvement project involving, apparently, drills or jackhammers or hydrogen bombs or some other such butch, noisy gizmos. You would think that, since he seems to be aware that playing the drums prior to eleven AM is rude, he would be able to extrapolate that one should not begin drilling or jackhammering or hydrogen bombing at EIGHT O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING. You would be wrong.)

(Our Our-O-Scope.)

It's time to take a look back over your entire life (Oh, dear lord Jeebus! Who has that much time on their hands?)

and to think about the people and incidents which hurt you. (Mmm-hmm. THEN We’re gonna go Sit On Their FaceBook.)

Where do you have a wound that hasn't healed? (Our stigmata…let Us show them to you.)

If you're one of the Aries who's done a lot of work on yourself, (Is that the same as having work done? And, if not, why not?)

(We just started singing “Joan Rivers” to the tune of Moon River, but We didn’t get very far. (Just thought We’d Cher.))

then rejoice and be glad. (It will be difficult to rejoice, considering We’re pretty sure We never got a chance to joice in the first place.)

The chances are that you've actually released a lot of the toxins that being hurt causes. (Hey, you say “released a lot of the toxins”, We say, “f@rt joke”. Potato, po-TAH-to, medulla oblongata, let’s call the whole thing awful.)

However, also be aware, (Also, be a clown.)

now is the perfect time to make peace with your past. (And to make pizza with your pastor. Because nothin’ says “lovin’” like somethin’ from the oven, so bend over and get undressed.)

(WHAT? It was a COMMERCIAL JINGLE, people. It’s not like We made it up or something.)

Talk through what you can with the people you need to or who can help you. (Wow. Way to be vague, Ass(tromalogical) Ho(roscopulist).)

(Your YOUR-O-Scopes:

easy, sleazy, beautiful cowgrass girl)