It’s odd, but understandable, Gemini, that you may have misheard the lyrics
to that Sarah McLachlan song as “I will dismember you/Will you dismember me?”
Instead of remember. What I can’t fathom is, why, having misapprehended
the tune thusly, you chose to make it your anniversary song. Nor, I might add,
can your wife.
it’s probably not a good idea to copy your resume objective statement from lines
in your favorite show. Particularly not when it’s The Vagina Monologues.
Leo (July 23-Aug.
warned you, Leo, about putting “Poon Tang” down as a business deduction on your
tax returns. It’s not just that it’s illegal, it’s so inelegant. Couldn’t you
at least have written “Trim?”
Virgo (Aug 23-Sept
for future reference, sometimes when someone’s asking you questions about your
achingly dull life or your meaningless job, or complimenting you on appointing
your entire home with Ikea, they’re just being nice. It’s unnecessary, therefore,
to resort to patronizing and self-indulgent answers. Unnecessary, pathetic and
potentially harmful to you, Virgo. Watch yourself. And stop dressing like Billy
Corgan while you’re at it.
23 –Oct 22)
Libra, those new Miller beer commercials with Burt Reynolds, Eddie Griffin and
sundry other has-beens are awful. Even by beer commercial standards. But even
if they were clever, slick or even mildly entertaining, that still wouldn’t
excuse barging into the women’s restroom at work, kicking in the stall doors
one by one and shouting “Man law!” You didn’t even follow the “legislative process”
as depicted, which enabled your dismissal without pay. But I digress.
out of curiosity, Scorpio, why do you do it? You have a great gig which, potentially,
could earn you the adoration of hundreds upon hundreds of bar patrons. And yet,
you choose time and again to play the worst songs by the best bands, or spin
plainly awful music, and to abuse your post by hectoring customers over the
PA in the most puerile way. Sad, really.
(Nov 22 – Dec 21)
I don’t have anything against you giving me a set of those relaxation balls.
It’s just when you give someone a set of relaxation balls, they probably shouldn’t
be anal beads. Used anal beads, Sagittarius. Jesus.
22 – Jan 19)
Capricorn, you hate women. That’s not at all uncommon. It’s the stuff of great
literature, music and art. But there’s a difference—an unsubtle and significant
distinction—between hating women and setting neighborhood dogs on fire. I mean,
what’s the…Wait, I think I get it. Are you trying to say…No, forget it: it makes
no sense, Capricorn. You’re just an idiot. And not much of a misogynist either.
What would Celine think? He had a dog—and a cat!
Aquarius, everyone loves a good mud pie. It’s just that most of us stopped making
them when we were four. And we always made them out of mud. Not human entrails.
It was thoughtful of you to bring dessert to the party, though. Say, how come
you didn’t bring what’s her name…Oh. Right.
who gives his friend a script and asks said friend to help him “rehearse for
a play”; just so he can record this friend stating his intention to attack the
United States and collect an FBI reward?
Who, Pisces? Oh, by the way: you should always proofread. It’s anthrax, Pisces,
not Ajax. When you’re friend is acquitted, that’ll be the least of your problems.
Aries, you cad. You bounder. You tosser. Punter. Rake, blackguard, scoundrel,
rotter, tit, slag. How’s it feel to be senselessly denigrated in British colloquialisms
just so I can satisfy my word count?
Look, Taurus, I get it: I’m a lousy best man. I lack basic organizational skills.
I never made reservations at the restaurant. I flaked on the cigars, booze and
gifts. I hit on your mother and your nephew, and knocked your enfeebled uncle
to the ground, in my drunken stupor at the family party. I hired a bestiality
act for entertainment, just because it was cheaper and got us all arrested,
splashed across the front page of the paper. And I’ve been sleeping with your
fiancée. Just remember: You chose me, Taurus. This is your fault.