Eating their nuts, saving their raisins for Sunday

Greetings, Etch-a-sketch™ Reproduces Italianate Ceiling---

Here is your horoscope for Monday, August 02, 2010 (Happy Monday, Our little worker bees!  Happy August Twoth, Our little drones!  Happy, happy, happy!  Someone told Us recently that you’re still out there reading this; ever since Google took away Our ads (and, with them, Our hit counter), We are having difficulty believing it.):

(And just how did it get to be August Twoth already anyway?  Why, just yesterday, it was only August Oneth.)

(We trust you all had a jam-packed, fun-filled weekend.  (Although somehow it seems, does it not, that the quantity of fun-fill-ed-ness might be inversely proportional to the quantity of jam you’ve got packed in there, no?  Math is HARD.)  We know We did. (We know because We were here, all alone, watching Ourselves have it.  And trust Us, We?  Have had it. )

(We watched Ourselves some fillums this weekend. Because We are all caught up on Our cable television serieses. (Dexter doesn’t arrive for two weeks.)  We watched Us some Johnny Depp in Public Enemies. That’s the one where he plays Depression-Era gangster, John Dillinger.  Who had, parenthetically (despite the absence (until now) of parentheses), a twelve-inch p3nis.  We wondered to Ourself, as We commenced to watching this fillum, how a movie including Johnny Depp and a twelve-inch p3nis could have sunk like the proverbial stone and achieved not a ripple of press (sunk…stone…ripple…it’s a werd pixture; go with Us here, people).  And here’s how:  the movie is a boring piece of cr@p.  It was apparently art-directed by your junior high school’s A-V club’s vice president’s retarded color-blind younger brother, who demonstrates a marked fondness for the color “Urine”.  The Lady In Red is ugly, and wears orange.  The lighting is so consistently murky that one can never tell one man-in-a-hat from another. The one time Mister Depp is about to strip down for a love scene, the FBI barges in and arrests him.  And let’s not even discuss the appalling generic Suthuhn axxent affected by Christian Bale as South Carolinian Melvin Purvis.  Egad.)

(The next evening, We made an effort to raise Our cinematic sights a little higher (than Johnny Depp’s twelve-inch p3nis).   Popped Us up some popcorn and watched Precious, We did.  All We want to know is, is there really some universe in which this movie is NOT a comedy?  And can absolutely any woman win an Oscar™ if she appears onscreen wearing no makeup and looking hideous?  (Because, if so, clearly Nancy Culp wuz ROBBED.  (Nancy Culp, for those not In-The-Know, was Miss Jane Hathaway on The Beverly Hillbillies.)))

(In between, We worked on some sketches for The WaitStaff’s Fringe show, The Real Housewives Of South Philly. Because, if the movies are gonna suck THIS bad, the world’s gonna need more sketch comedy.)

 (Our Our-O-Scope:)

The best creative inspiration is something that's commonly become known as 'the deadline.'  (See, now, We Our Own Selves Personally were feeling mighty inspired by “Johnny Depp’s twelve-inch p3nis”.  We’re just sayin’.)

This necessary intimidation (ExSQUEEZE me?)

is sponsored by the powers that be, prompted by their insatiable urge to get things done on time. (Well, ya know what They say:  fu(k ‘em if they can’t bake a cake. (Why do They say such stupid things?  And why does anybody listen?))

Like it or not, you've got one -- and resistance is futile. (Yeah, yeah.  At this point, wouldn’t it be simpler to make a list of the things that AREN’T futile?)

Cancel your appointments and tell your friends not to worry. (Mmm-hmm. They’re just worrying away out there.  Fret, fret, fret, that’s all y’all.)

No one will see you for a while (Well, of course not.  That’s because Our ginormous @ssz is eclipsing the sun.)

-- no one except that one particular person you've been craving, that is. (And his twelve-inch p3nis.)

 Vehicles, copiers and change machines might break when you approach them -- but don't take it personally. (Yeah.  Why would We ever take a little thing like that personally?)

 Now, think of how this energy will affect other humans. (Don’t be silly…where would We ever see another human?)

Sequester yourself. (For some reason, that stupid two-word sentence is making Us think of the McDonna song, “Express Yourself”.  Nothing EVER makes Us think of McDonna songs.  Maybe all y’all SHOULD be worrying.)

You can have absolutely everything you want from the higher-ups. (They’re only up there so they can p00p on Our head.)

They'll be happy to support and advise you, and tip you on how to get where you want to go.  (Obviously, Kelli be smokin’ da crackpipe again. Her and Precious’s mom, Mo’Nique.  Of course, As long as there were mirrors in that house, you’d smoke crack too.)

(Johnny. Depp’s. Twelve. Inch. P3nis.)

(There; that’s better.)

(Your Euro-O-Scopes:

http://www.humorscope.com

cowgrass…melts in your mouth, not in your hands.  (See, YOU’RE thinking “M&Ms”.  We, on the other hand, are thinking “Johnny Depp’s twelve-inch p3nis”.))

Springsteen, Madonna, way before Nirvana there was U2 and Blondie and music still on MTV

Greetings, Even Religious Incumbents Chortled---


Here is your horoscope for Saturday, January 23, 2010 (We weren’t even going to do this today, but then We woke up at the cr@ck of @ss, and were subsequently informed (via the WorldWideInterWebNetz…you don’t think We’d be writing this if there were someone here) that it is National Pie Day. So We didn’t want to let the day go by without wishing all y’all Happy National Pie Day, on the off chance that one of ya would get inspired to bring Us a pie. (Yes, We will accept pizza pie.)):


(Speaking of the WorldWideInterWebNetz, that joint is jumpin’ this AM, possibly to make up for its lack of activity this week. Thanks to OurShaun, who pointed out that, when all else fails, you should read the instructions, We will now be notified via email immediately when you make a comment on Our scrawlings here in Bloggonia, so comment away! (OurShaun is weekending in Berlin. Don’t’cha just love Europeans? We go to the Jersey shore for the weekend; they go to the South of France. You say “potato”, I say “vichyssoise”; you say “tomato”, I say “aspic”. Potato! Vichyssoise! Tomato! Aspic! This ain’t a very good song…))


(Before anyone complains, We are well aware that Berlin and the South of France are not the same place. We were waxing poetic. (Well, with one hand, anyway.) Also, We were distracted by being so impressed with Ourselves for spelling “vichyssoise” correctly on the very first try. (Meanwhile, how funny a word is “aspic”? Doesn’t mean at all what it sounds like it should mean, does it?))


(Also from the WorldWideInterWebNetz this morning, this bit of wisdom from a friend of a somewhat existential bent: No matter how high a duck can fly, you can always break a window with a hammer.)


(And finally, We betook Ourselves (well, MizGerreGarrett betook Us) to see the World Café yesterday. Oh, my dears! You will be beside your very selves when you come to see Our show on February 19th! (Well, actually you will hopefully be beside a whole lot of other people who have also come to see Our show. We were using a colorful figger of speech. (Which is, naturally, the polar opposite of a colorless jigger of bleach.)) The problem with their website is all cleared up, so toddle on over and make those reservations now: http://tickets.worldcafelive.com/eventperformances.asp?evt=3418 )


(Before We begin, We should also point out, for those of you who thought today’s pixture was a bad drag queen, that it is, in fact, an actual real live woman, attending, of all things, the Golden Globes (which always sounds like a t1tz joke to Us, but isn’t).)


Focus on keeping your home or work space uncluttered and productive -- you need less stress in your life! (Then stop using random interrobangs! To create a false sense of excitement! You cr@ck-addled c00zelick!)


Sometimes all it takes is a quick purge of unnecessary stuff to help you cope. (No, the quick purge is to help you DIET; recreational drugs are for coping. Jeebus.)


Feeling blue? (No. Chartreuse, with a cerise and puce border. (What kind of @sshole question was that?))


Thinking about how great it would be if a huge party would suddenly, magically arrive on your doorstep? (We will happily settle for one pizza delivery boi. With or without a pizza, if you receive Our meaning.)


Well, you do have certain options: (Yes, there’s ignorance, and then there’s apathy. We don’t know, and We don’t care.)


(Those of you who type as poorly as We do will no doubt not be stunned to learn that “igmornance” is not a word.)


You can arrange for a mini-break in the action -- and if you have someone who's game to play hooky with you, that might not be such a bad idea. (Honey, if We findz Ourseff somebody to play with, We ain’t gonna be playin’ no “hooky”. HookER, maybe, but not hooky.)


Aren't you due for a day off? (Hmmm. Possibly. Let Us just ring for the butler to bring Us a calendar…)


Think of it this way: Your mental health is just as important as your physical health. (In which case, We are Well And Truly Fu(ked. And not in a good way.)


So it's just as important to tend to it carefully. (Oh, so that’s why everybody keeps spreading “fertilizer” all over it? Metaphorically speaking, of course.)


Right? (The opposite of left is right; the opposite of right is wrong…so anyone who’s left is wrong…right?)


You're living in a material world, (And I am a material girl. (Oh, please…who wasn’t thinking that? (Does she still sing that song? Because We’re pretty sure “I am a material menopausal grandmother” wouldn’t scan properly…)))


and material things transmit certain messages. (Speaking (obviously very loosely) of singing, We chanced upon twenty seconds of The Haiti Hootenanny on television last night. Beyoncé (did We really just type “café” so We could steal its “e” and give Beyoncé her accent mark? Why, yes; yes, We did) was caterwauling about “I see your halo, Haiti”. Um, no. Falling victim to a natural disaster does not immediately catapult one to sainthood. (Nor, Pat Robertson, does it make one the devil, as you shall no doubt learn when you are finally consigned to your Very Special Place in H3ll.) Shut up, Beyoncé.)


(We just noticed that the last paragraph had both “caterwauling” and “catapult” in it. If We were (subjunctively) to replace “disaster” with “catastrophe”, all We would need would be a caterpillar piloting a catamaran. Thanks for everything, Julie Newmar.)


That doesn't make you shallow, though. (Oh, no, honey…We deep. REEEEAAALLL deep. In fact, you’re gonna wanna think about tying a two-by-four to yo’ @ss, or you might fall in.)


Think of matter as being a manifested spirit. (Also, think of Love as a Many-Splendored Thing. (What the fu(k are you talking about???))


What do the physical details about your new suitor say? (Dunno…We haven’t finished inflating him yet.)


(YOUR-O-Scopes:


http://www.humorscope.com


McCowgrass …over 5 billion served.)