Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Behold my paunch

Last night Mars and Venus threw a huge interplanetary shit-fit, hurled meteoroids at each other and ultimately resolved nothing. And now there are that many more enormous chunks of loose rock drifting around the solar system that could annihilate all life on Earth. Thanks, sky gods.

Cancer (June 21 - July 22)
Everyone wants you to fail. I say give the people what they want.

Leo (July 23 - August 22)
You drive an economy car in the hopes of someday being crushed by a Hummer. Villainous Virgo asserts, “Ha! They’ll be no match for our whores.” You’ll get a sex change, be dismissed.

Virgo (August 23 - Sept. 22)
Where others co-found, you confound. Villainous Virgo asserts, “And you call yourself a sex-killer. Ha!” Initially disorganized circle jerk really comes together at the end.

Libra (Sept. 23 - Oct. 22)
Inner journey hits inner dead end. Villainous Virgo asserts, “Ha! A true pool master always knows which balls just clicked in an adjoining room.” Next spring you’ll successfully bid to be the architect of your own demise.

Scorpio (Oct. 23 - Nov. 21)
“Everyone’s an asshole when you think about it,” asserts the president of the Everyone’s An Asshole When You Think About It Foundation, a privately-funded ‘everyone’s an asshole when you think about it’ think tank.

Sagittarius (Nov. 22 - Dec. 21)
Your partner will be disturbed when you murmur the following sleep-talk: “How could I ever choose? You all have amazing pussies.” Fear knot. Eighty-something Aries wistfully remembers the days when there were ‘white’ and ‘colored’ glory holes.

Capricorn (Dec. 22 - Jan. 19)
Yours is a present with no presents. Megalomaniacal accountant murmurs, “We could adjust our margins to better compete with our adversaries in every market—but at what cost?” You’ll be imprisoned in a foreign country, given only this horoscope to read.

Aquarius (Jan. 20 - Feb. 18)
‘Life on the edge’ proves surprisingly un-edgy. Beeping noise asserts, “Let’s back up a bit.” Tonight you’ll repulse a potential lover when you mix up the spellings of ‘lose’ and ‘loose’ in an email.

Pisces (Feb. 19 - March 20)
Life as a tax accountant proves splendid. Yes, splendid. I know. I know. I’m as surprised as you are.

Aries (March 21 - April 19)
Christ, no—that’s an anteater! You’ll put an inhabited conch shell up to your ear, assert, “Ouch.” Thursday night you may find yourself strangling a future love interest.

Taurus (April 20 - May 20)
Keywords for today: “essence of mediocrity.” During argument with well, you’ll say, “Well, that’s obvious.” Tonight you may find an intuitive finger in a body cavity.

Gemini (May 21 - June 20)
You have no words to describe the bittersweet earthiness of a carrot. Chubby yet strict patriarch barks, “Family! Behold my paunch.” Tomorrow morning your photosensitive penis will come to light.

If Today Is Your Birthday:
When you look at yourself having sex in the mirror, you’re always struck by how normal you look. On the outside.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

The snake did its job

Mercury in Gemini means the meanness of mean people will be even meaner than usual.

Gemini (May 21 - June 20)
You can’t remember the last time you had sex. It was last night, you know that much.

Cancer (June 21 - July 22)
You are notorious for your tendency to wear a fake beard on a first date. Villainous Virgo asserts, “It doesn’t matter who smuggled the venomous adder into Gemini’s birthday party. All that matters is the snake did its job.” Tonight you’ll sell your lover for $8.28.

Leo (July 23 - August 22)
Push those who disrupt your balance off this flat Earth. Libertarian Libra asserts, “Next thing you know we won’t be allowed to wear fake beards any more—no, they’ll be ‘too suspicious’.” Focus on flavoured malaise, insane Swedes, designated pet smoking areas.

Virgo (August 23 - Sept. 22)
Sometimes the best heists in life aren’t planned. Leo laments, “Hitler killed the Hitler moustache.” You’ll sleep yourself to the bottom in children’s television.

Libra (Sept. 23 - Oct. 22)
Listen, I don’t know too much about cars, and I may be out of line saying this, but there’s just no dignity in a Volkswagen Golf Mk2.

Scorpio (Oct. 23 - Nov. 21)
All your life you’ve had a little devil sitting on your shoulder telling you not to brush your teeth. Taurus asserts, “No, that’s not what bananas are for. But good guess.” You’ll form a new R&B group, call it Shitz II Gigglz.

Sagittarius (Nov. 22 - Dec. 21)
Saturn in Virgo proves irrelevant. Pisces marketer cautions, “If you use ‘Shitz,’ Wal-Mart won’t touch you. How about Schlitz II Gigglz?” The dynamiting of your bungalow will be a spectacle for which you won’t need spectacles.

Capricorn (Dec. 22 - Jan. 19)
Fetishize malamutes. Scorpio reluctantly concedes, “Alright, but only because the surname of everyone in the group is, in an incredible coincidence, Schlitz.” Sadistic top-master accountant whispers luridly of withholding tax, withholding sex.

Aquarius (Jan. 20 - Feb. 18)
Saturday night you’ll meet a man so cold, two men will have to piss on you to get your tongue unstuck from his dick.

Pisces (Feb. 19 - March 20)
You always get the “wannabe actor who never gets any roles” roles. Abs abtrophy. Over the next month you’ll receive an immense amount of junk mail advertising products you can’t afford.

Aries (March 21 - April 19)
Lack of ‘X-factor’ makes you an ex-actor. A new friend at work plans to spectacularly stab you in the back at some point in the distant future. Try to take the loss of your legs in stride.

Taurus (April 20 - May 20)
You’re still not sure if you can commit to just one medication for the long haul. D-list B-movie ex-actor finds F-bomb in his Gmail email. Uranus and Neptune conjoin, vow never to conjoin again.

If Today Is Your Birthday:
You’ll write an exposĂ© about the undergarments of transsexuals. You’ll call it May Contain Nuts.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Noses ‘n’ twats

This week’s horoscope is brought to you by advertising. Ask your shrink if advertising is right for you.

Gemini (May 21 - June 20)
Every gazebo shall someday collapse. Agrarian Aquarius asserts, “I don’t normally allow my cows to get their teats pierced, but Bessy here’s my best milker so I let it go.” Syphilitic fetus proves ill-conceived.

Cancer (June 21 - July 22)
Revolving credit agreement nauseates. Cattle-envying Capricorn comments, “Oh, to be a cow and give birth at the age of two.” Moon in your sign signals a general absence of high-quality items.

Leo (July 23 - August 22)
I know this contradicts your strongest instincts, but for now you must keep a low profile and blend in. Sh, quiet my fiery pet. The time shall soon come when every one of those fools will know who you are.

Virgo (August 23 - Sept. 22)
Rhinoplastic surgeon knows better. Gemini snaps, “Hey, the sign says ‘no dragons,’ pal.” Tonight you’ll hear the word ‘spatula’ one time too many, and quit improv comedy forever.

Libra (Sept. 23 - Oct. 22)
Catastrophic cunnilingual collision involves nose dive. Pisces pundit opines, “It’s sad what rhinoceroses are doing to their noses these days.” Long-distance lover can’t come close.

Scorpio (Oct. 23 - Nov. 21)
Catastrophic cunnilingual collision requires rhinovaginoplasty. Leo asserts, “There are security cameras in this elevator so it is vital that we make out.” Insane in the mid-brain, yo.

Sagittarius (Nov. 22 - Dec. 21)
Catastrophic cunnilingual collision cunt befaced. You’ll Englishly assert, “Oi mate, rhinovaginoplasty is noses ‘n’ twats compared to platypussyplasty, rabbitoclitoplasty, or hipponipploplasty.” You’ll meet your doppelganger, realize you’re the evil one.

Capricorn (Dec. 22 - Jan. 19)
For the love of God, don’t say ‘coochie-coo’ to your baby tonight. Sagittarius elaborates, “Actually, noses ‘n’ twats is a common expression in my part of England.” Consider macaqocockoplasty, bassoassoplasty, coyotoscrotoplasty.

Aquarius (Jan. 20 - Feb. 18)
Great-aunt isn’t either. Editor asserts, “Although I was intrigued by your blow job, unfortunately your relationship proposal doesn’t fit my needs at this time.” Astrological reassignment surgery involves LeoVirgoplasty, ScorpoLeoplasty, VirgoScorpoplasty.

Pisces (Feb. 19 - March 20)
When you enter a room, everyone respectfully doffs their condoms. Longtime friendship morphs into soul-crushing codependency, great sex. You’ll take the bus, refuse to give it back.

Aries (March 21 - April 19)
Tonight you’ll take a job as a spermicidal diaphragm model, even though you swore you were through with the cervix industry.

Taurus (April 20 - May 20)
Tide brings bad tidings. You’ll say to your astrologer, “How about I pay you a percentage of the money I win using your winning lottery numbers?” Focus on security guardian angels, control panel station wagons, spermicidal maniacs.

If Today Is Your Birthday:
You may be wealthy, enlightened, and influential. You may have spent your life righting great wrongs, fighting for justice, and liberating the oppressed. But you won’t know what it truly means to make a difference until you’ve worked at a hot dog stand.

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

Laughably substandard muffins

Please excuse any typos as this horoscope was sent from my BlackBerry.

Gemini (May 21 - June 20)
Tonight you’ll accept an award for lifetime semi-achievement in whatever it is you do. You’ll smugly assert, “Even at the height of my success, I never forgot where I came from—my mother’s vagina.”

Cancer (June 21 - July 22)
The love you share with Taurus is a beautiful flower eaten by an indifferent cat. Join all available street gangs. You’ll smugly assert, “Even at the height of my success, I never forgot where I come from—my urethra.”

Leo (July 23 - August 22)
Mars becomes stationary in Aries; Aries begs for the pounding to resume. Cancer asserts, “Of course I come from my urethra. Where the hell do you come from? And don’t say your nostrils.” Focus on prognostications, Praguenostications, malcrapulence.

Virgo (August 23 - Sept. 22)
Today you’ll have a disappointingly brief and shallow epiphany. Gynecologist enquires, “You don’t come from these parts, do you?” As summer looms, you stockpile lard.

Libra (Sept. 23 - Oct. 22)
The planets have total sway over your two-year-old’s body. Look at those movements. The kid is definitely under some kind of remote control.

Scorpio (Oct. 23 - Nov. 21)
This afternoon you’ll gaze into the millionth vagina of your professional gynecological career. The one million and third overall.

Sagittarius (Nov. 22 - Dec. 21)
Mormons! Owner of the millionth vagina of Scorpio’s professional gynecological career gloats, “Best. Use of a concealed confetti cannon. Ever.” War, plague, famine disrupt jog.

Capricorn (Dec. 22 - Jan. 19)
Think about dowagers. Libra enquires, “Is that a confetti cannon in your vagina, or are you just happy to see me?” Meanwhile, your beloved Pisces fiancĂ© apperceives the rough hands of a Gentile caressing her alabaster thighs, and feels a porcine shiver of forbidden lust.

Aquarius (Jan. 20 - Feb. 18)
As if the divine seeks to punish you for your transgressions, you’ll receive a mysterious phone call from a woman in drag claiming to be Humphrey Bogart.

Pisces (Feb. 19 - March 20)
Cowed cow kowtows. You’ll murmur, “Ah, if this old pelvic examination chair could talk,” and then, wistfully, switch on the pelvic examination chair compactor.

Aries (March 21 - April 19)
Moon in Libra portends a weekend of alarming tedium. Toes cow nose. Next fall your career as a forensic gynecologist will inspire a new late-night cable series, Pelvic Examination Chair Diaries.

Taurus (April 20 - May 20)
Performance art heist proves surreal, shoe tree. Aries explains, “It’s the story of a gay gynecologist who gets a lot of ass, a straight proctologist who gets a lot of pussy, and the bisexual perineumologist who binds them.” Cow’s nose knows toes.

If Today Is Your Birthday:
You’ll go overboard with your polite praise of your grandmother’s baking, causing her to get uppity and make a fool of herself by entering laughably substandard muffins in the elite division of the annual tri-county blueberry muffin bake-off.