Someone's pooping, Lord, Kumbaya

Greetings, Everyone Repeatedly Ignored Caterwauling---

Here is your horoscope for Tuesday, August 31, 2010  (We are still sans Micro$oft Weird(TM), so trust Us, there will be typos.  Deal with it. We are expecting Our new hard drive to be installed today, but then of course, that asssumes (thereby making an ass of Us and Uma Thurman) that Rastus G. Tyrone of the unintelligible telephone Ebonix will actually turn up when (We think) he said he would, and that the hard drive will actually function properly once installed.  This being Our life, what are the odds?):

(In other news, thank you all so much for the outpouring of love and support when We detailed Our computer trials and tribulations last week.  Seriously.  It's so nice to know that, if We were (subjunctively) on fire, none of all y'all could be bothered to send somebody ELSE to piss on Us.)

(In keeping with the Kumbaya-singing love-fest that this has clearly become, if it happens to have been your birthday in the past few days, tough fucking shit.  What makes you think it's all about you?)

(Let Us briefly explain the joyous day that was yesterday.  We spent all of Our daytime hours on the phone with various customer service entities.  To sum up how THAT all went, Our LEAST annoying customer service interaction was with the IRS.  And THAT call cost Us over a thousand dollars.)

(Then We went to rehearsal.  We would invite you to Our show, but Our opening is no doubt going to be cancelled by the impending hurricane, and We shall no doubt all be killed.  (Actually, with Our luck, We shall probably just be seriously maimed.  (Who coaxed the blues right out of the horn?))  However, if you would like to purchase tickets that you will not be able to use to keep as souvenirs, please go here:  http://www.livearts-fringe.org/details.cfm?id=13844  )

(Our-O-Scope:)

There's nothing you can't accomplish now as long as you can visualize it clearly. (Oh, Jeebus Cripes, don't start with that "viZZZualize" crap.  Every week, We viZZZualize what We will do when We win PowerBall(TM), and every week, We don't win.  This week, of course, We WILL win, but We will be killed in the hurricane.  Or, more likely, Our winning ticekt will be blown down the sewer.  Our world, and welcome to it.)

So what's the hold up? (Insert over-the-sholder boulder holder joke here.)

Start picturing exactly how you'd like your life to be. (In the midst of life We are in death.)

Your only boundary is the reach of your imagination. (Paging Johnny Depp, Johnny Depp to the white courtesy phone please..)

Meditate, dream and fantasize. (Or, to translate to Gaybonix, masturbate, scream, and accessorize.)

No matter how much pressure you get, you won't buckle under. (Hey, a Play-Tex(TM) Living Girdle can only do so much.)

You're absolutely right to insist on standing your ground. (What if We can't stand Our ground?  (No...read it again.  THERE ya go.))

Believe that, and you'll be invincible, not to mention irresistible. (We have apparently already mastered invisible.)

Tone your usual pace down a few notches -- or decibels, as the case may be. (Oh, please.  Tech rehearsal tonight.  Just kill Us now.)

You need peace, quiet and time to contemplate right now. (Is it too soon to tell the "masturbate, scream, and accessorize" joke again?)

Yoga might be nice. (So might yogurt.  And Yoda.  What's your fucking point?)

(Euro-Scopes:

http://www.humorscope.com/

Cowgrass.  You're soaking in it.   Slut.)