HAIRSHIRT
Helping You Get the Most Out of Your Misery
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HAIRSHIRT Helping You Get the Most Out of Your Misery |
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Wednesday, January 05, 2005Hairshirt Horoscope
Aries: You should give up campaigning so hard for a Golden Globe, especially since you aren’t nominated and you’ve never been in a movie that didn’t have the phrase “bone-hungry sluts” in the title.
Taurus: While hosting a dinner party, you are dismayed at your guests' overwhelmingly negative response to your Spam and Jell-O salad. Gemini: This week, at age 45, it finally sinks in that you’re never going to play the lead in Annie, no matter how spunky you look in the red afro. Cancer: Nobody is going to want to publish your photo essay titled, “My Dong Goes to Vegas.” Leo: Your laundry situation reaches new crisis levels this week, Leo, and you are forced to recycle your socks for a record-breaking fifth day. We won’t go into details about your underwear. Virgo: Okay, we get it. You really liked Joel Schumacher’s version of The Phantom of the Opera. Allow me to suggest that this is something you probably ought to keep to yourself. Libra: You find out who your true friends are this week. They’re the ones who change congressional rules so that you can keep your job even if you’ve been indicted. People that vote against that change? Not your amigos, jefe. Scorpio: It was not the Bluebird of Happiness that slammed into your windshield at seventy-five miles an hour. It was, however, the Pigeon of Small Lottery Scratch-Off Winnings. Sagittarius: The lesson you learn this week is that people are going to have a hard time forgetting your unfortunate “Naked Carol Channing” impression at the office Christmas party. Drinking less might be a good idea. Capricorn: This is your week to hunker down with a good book. The downside is that your hunkering is all going to be on the toilet following a poor menu pick at a cut-rate Ethiopian place. Aquarius: Travel plans may have to be put on hold until after your parole expires. Pisces: Sudden despair hits you this week, Pisces, as you realize that your pet goldfish probably didn’t swim to The Magical Kingdom of Atlantis in 1979 like your parents told you. Thus is twenty-four years of innocence flushed down the toilet, which, coincidently, is where your goldfish went.
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