Something appealing, something appalling

Bonjour, Mon Petit Pois, Common Tally Vroom---

(Hey, nothing is forever.)

Here is your horoscope for Friday, August 06, 2010 (Happy Fried Egg to all of Our working stiff friends.  (Wait…We have friends who are stiff?  (Wait…We have friends?)) And Happy Birthday in advance to TCBITWWW, who turns twenty-four this weekend.  (On Sunday, to be exact.  We had it in Our heads (both of them) that it was on Saturday, which would have somehow made Saturday the 8^th, despite yesterday being the 5^th, which caused Us no end of confusion here this morning as We attempted to gear up to spew forth this horoscope. (It’s okay, though; the confusion has passed.  So don’t call to check on Us or nothin’. (We’ve fallen, and We can’t get it up.))):

(Remember a week or so ago, when We said that something good had happened, but We couldn't say what?  Well, We spoke too soon.  Nothing good has happened.)

(In still other news, We had a writers’ meeting for the WaitStaff’s upcoming Fringe Festival show, The Real Housewives of South Philly, last night.  It has occurred to Us that perhaps YouPeople stay away from Our shows in droves because you don’t understand what it is We do, so herewith a brief explanation.  The WaitStaff does sketch comedy.  This means that We perform scripted, self-contained sketches (or skits, if you must) that run about 3 to 5 minutes.  We do between 15 and 20 of these in a show.  A sketch has a beginning, a middle, and an end, and is mostly like watching an episode of a sitcom, except it doesn’t take 22 minutes to solve the problem.  All of the sketches that We do are original (i.e. they are written by members of the WaitStaff (We Our Own Self Personally, for example, have written four sketches for the September show, and are about to write at least one more) ), and at least 75% of each show consists of new sketches that We have never performed before.  Going to a WaitStaff show is much like going to see a play, except it’s more consistently funny, it’s all over in an hour, and We generally only do it in a venue where you can drink while you’re watching.)

(Now for what We do NOT do: We do not do stand-up.  No one will stand at a microphone and tell you a string of increasingly embarrassing mother-in-law jokes.  We do not do improv. All of Our material is written and rehearsed in advance, unlike improv, which is made up as they go along, and is only funny in that horrifying “Grandpa doesn’t realize he’s wet himself in public again” way.  And We do not do audience participation, because We are Highly Trained Professionals Who Are Funny, and you are not.)

(There.  Now there is no more reason for you to be kept away by Fear Of The Unknown.  And if you’re staying away because you’re waiting for Us to do Real Theatre, don’t hold your breath.  We are trying to make MONEY, people.  And quite frankly, the lack of support for Our endeavors is really starting to piss Us off.  (Of course, We realize that the very few of you who are actually reading this instead of nakedly skimming it either actually DO support Us (thank yew!) or live too far away to do so.  But We feel better getting it off Our chest(s).))

 (Our Our-O-Scope:)

There's absolutely nothing you can't do right now (It’s the weekend.  “Absolutely nothing” sounds like the PERFECT thing to do.)

-- except possibly keeping quiet about anything that even mildly irritates you. (If you’ve met Us, you realize that nothing MILDLY irritates Us.)

Avoid folks who'll expect you to 'just be nice,' (Who would those mentally deficient lobotomy victims be?)

and turn your focus toward putting an end to situations that deserve your undivided, unfiltered verbal attention.  (Hmm.  Our ” undivided, unfiltered verbal attention “…We like the sound of that.)

If you're anywhere near a dear one, (More to the point, if you’re anywhere near a queer dear one with a beer…)

your heart will be so full you'll wonder if it can hold any more happiness. (Is there some universe in which One’s heart exploding from being stuffed too full sounds like a GOOD thing?)

It can. (We cannot possibly be the only One who notices that that sentence rhymes with “shitcan”.)

Just wait 'til tomorrow. (Is that a threat?)

You're not quite comfortable with the way things are going, (As We are not Bing Crosby, We are pretty sure they are not Going Our Way.  (Where ELSE can you get a free Bing Crosby joke in your morning email?  You lucky, lucky people.))

but at least you have a plan -- which is more than your opponent can say. (He can’t say anything; Our d1ck’s in his mouth.)

(Once again falling into the vat of vulgarity.  Fortunately, the vulgarity is only knee-deep, but They keep making Us stand on Our head.)

You're not in charge of your own destiny now, (Manifestly.)

 and you're not happy about that fact. (There are SO many things about which We are not happy.  Also, up with which We shall not put.)

The situation won't last forever (We have Our finger so on the pop-culture pulse that We were on the verge of making a Jersey Shore  joke just then, even though We have never laid Our two eyes upon the program, and wouldn’t know “The Situation” if Our d1ck accidentally slid up his @ss.  Lucky for you, We refrained. (We were somehow unaware that We had ever frained in the first place. (The frain in Spain explains Miss Barbara Bain.)))

(See, We STARTED to be vulgar just then, but We stopped. Orange you glad We didn’t say banana?)

-- but it certainly may feel that way for a while. (Sometimes you feel like a nut, and sometimes you cut your scrotum shaving.)

(Ooops.)

(Have a happy period.)

(Your Euro-O-Scopes:

http://www.humorscope.com

cowgrass…the quality goes in before your son gets maimed)