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:






http://www.humorscope.com




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