Who ya gonna call?

                                         

(The answer to today’s titular (heh) question, in case you were having a momentary pop cultural lapse (or, for that matter, a momentary pop cultural lap dance, which would, no doubt, be even more distracting (although not, perhaps, as distracting as No Doubt doing a lap dance while singing “Don’t Speak” (or a lhasa apso lapping lapsang souchong (but We digress)))) is “Ghostbusters!”  As in, “Who ya gonna call?  Ghostbusters!”  If you have that song stuck in your head for the rest of the day now, you’re welcome.  We have had it stuck in Our head(s?) since watching Zombieland over the weekend.  (We won’t divulge why, in case you are planning to see that particular cinematic treasure, but haven’t gotten around to it yet.)  It is essentially one joke stretched out for ninety minutes that you’ll never get back, during which, if you are like Us, you will spend most of your time plotting perverse ways in which you would like to s3xually abuse Jesse Eisenberg.  You will, however, end up your evening with the theme form Ghostbusters playing on an endless loop in your head.)

Greetings, Elvis Reappears In Chattanooga---

Here is your horoscope for Monday, November 08, 2010 (We trust you all remembered to turn your clocks back.  We turned Ours back into sundials.  In retrospect, We should have turned them into something with more monetary value.  Like gold ingots. Or Jesse Eisenberg’s @ss cheeks.  At any rate, it now gets dark at 4 o’clock in the afternoon, and We are Not Happy About It.):

(In other news, because We do not already have enough problems with inanimate objects (in addition to being one Our Own Self), Our cellphone has decided that incoming calls can go straight to voice mail, and that it can then neglect to inform Us of their existence.  We discovered this little trick when We realized that, in order to get said phone to acknowledge the time change, We had to turn it off and turn it back on.  Upon turning  it back on, it agreed that it was in act an hour earlier, and informed Us that We had three unheard voice messages.  Which had been received on Thursday and Friday.  This being Sunday morning.  (We should point out, at this juncture, that We have possibly the oldest cellphone still in existence on the planet.  It has a rotary dial.  It still accept nickels instead of dimes or quarters.  Its number is BUtterfield-8.  If the opposite of a SmartPhone is a StupidPhone, Our phone is a ‘TardPhone.  It rides a short phonebus to phoneschool, where all the other phones tease it while it rolls its phoneshit into little phoneshitballs.))

(That said, we think We have gotten in touch with everyone to whom Our phone has caused Us to be rude.  If you haven’t heard from Us, give Us a shout on the WorldWideInterWebNetz.)

(In still other other news, We continue to narrow down Our career aspirations.  We would very much like a jawb in which We sleep.  Or complain.  Or have bizarre dreams. (On the subject of bizarre dreams, We could tell you long involved stories of the convoluted epics that were Our nights’ entertainments this weekend.  However, in the interests of brevity, We shall sum it all up in one sentence: who the h3ll has dreams with Victor Garber in them?))

 (Our-O-Scopes:)

Trying to maintain a happy balance (between Jack Palance and Liberty Valance)

between the personal and the professional (Wait…there’s a professional?  How much does he charge?)

will be a bit more challenging than it usually is. Hey, We love a challenge!  We have a ‘TardPhone.)

Keep in mind that there's really only one way to manage it (Who ya gonna call?)

-- give equal time to both. (Ghostbusters!)

No playing favorites.  (You have heard the story of Our life…does it surprise you that We’re not allowed to play Our favorites?)

You're not feverish or achy. (Well, don’t tell Billy Ray Cyrus.)

(WHO put the “pop” in popculture?  WE put the “pop” in popculture!)

You just know you need to stay home today. (Which makes it different from every other day how?)

Remember how you used to get out of school when you weren't ready for a test?  (No.)

When you least expect it, (Who ya gonna call?)

someone you thought was long gone -- happily so -- could return to harass your career aims once more. (Hmmm…We are thinking that “harass” is perhaps not the verb of choice here. (Now We are thinking how much “harass” looks like “hairy @ss”.  Because We’re funny that way.))

Formulate alternate strategies. (Way to write REALLY dull fortune cookies, Kelli-San.)

 (Your YOUR-O-Scopes:

http://www.humorscope.com )