HAIRSHIRT 

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Wednesday, February 23, 2005

 

Hairshirt Horoscope

Aries: No matter how thoroughly you go over the Cliff’s Notes for Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, your friends will not be fooled into thinking you’ve been a Hunter S. Thompson fan for years, so give it up, ya fraud.

Taurus: A lifelong dream will reach fruition this week as you are asked to be a flower girl in the wedding of Prince Charles and Camilla Parker Bowles. This despite the fact that you’re a forty-year-old man. It’s just going to be that kind of wedding.

Gemini: Your parents are never going to forgive you for the time you fucked up and got the third strike on Family Feud. Richard Dawson's mocking laugh will follow you to your grave.

Cancer: There’s no harm in having a couple of beers on a daily basis. Just not for breakfast.

Leo: You need to stop and ask yourself if you’re doing what’s best for you or what’s best for your sherpa. Look deep inside your heart and you’ll know the truth.

Virgo: You’re absolutely wrong.

Libra: It’s very important that you maintain a healthy skepticism this week, especially when your boyfriend tells you that coffee filters and rubber bands make an acceptable condom.

Scorpio: This is not a good week for you, monetarily. In fact, you might want to take emergency action, such as giving all of your money to someone else for the week. I’m happy to help you out with that, so just put everything you’ve got into a cashier’s check, made payable to Hairshirt Financial Holdings. I’ll keep a good eye on it for you.

Sagittarius: Those things at the end of your leg are feet. Lay off the acid, dipshit.

Capricorn: You are not a minotaur.

Aquarius: Finally putting your mother into a nursing home is not something you should feel guilty about. She’s forty-five now and she needs the extra help. Plus, the house is just so much roomier without her.


Pisces: The universal answers to all of life's questions that you're finding in the songs of Captain and Tenille are so completely not there.


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