Attn: Sagittarius. Get Funky.
After the jump, Loren Hunt ponders the eternal question, “WOT IS HE LIKE? WOT IS HE LIKE, ANYWAY?”
ARIES: “It’s funny because she was kind of innocent… before she punched him,” is how my friend Heather prefaces the story about how our other Aries friend Crazy Ange became a felon. She’d been dating a cop, the one kind of person one should probably not punch in a fit of rage, as well as the one kind of person who probably deserves it the most. I’m not going to type out the whole story, because it is the type of baroque comedy of errors that almost always involves at least one Aries, but take it from me: Crazy Ange was kind of innocent, before she punched him. Anyway, Aries, don’t let any bastards exploit your fundamental innocence this week. It will not end well.
TAURUS: This poem made me think of you guys just now. Its sentiment seems distinctly Taurean, in that it is so depressing that it becomes profoundly comforting. That might sound kind of cunty, but this poem has made me bawl my eyes out more than once or twice and remains one of my all-time favorites: Robert Hass, Letter to a Poet.
GEMINI: According to this website, “Gemini meals often consist of snacks throughout the day. Like a butterfly sampling one flower after another, so does Gemini. At a restaurant, you’ll find Gemini ordering a variety of appetizers and hors d’ouvres instead of a main entree. Geminis will be curious to try new dishes – variety is what they crave. a different entree at every meal or the meal must offer at least a few different textures and flavors in every bite.” You know what I was thinking? You deserve tapas from Amada for your birthday. Get the short ribs flatbread thing. And the shirred egg thing. And the little potato puffs. And take me with you.
CANCER: So, you know that Smiths song “Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want (This Time?)” Back in college, my friend Danielle’s friend Jocelyn irreversibly changed the words to “Please Please Please Let Me Shit When I Want (This Time.)” The next line is, for those of you who don’t know, “Lord knows it would be the first time.” Cancer, if you find yourself taking any Smiths lyrics seriously this week (at your age!), just change them into something scatological, and laugh. That is how we do this thing the kids are calling “cope.” You won’t. But I would.
LEO: If I know you, Leo, you’re thinking about having a stoop yard sale this coming weekend, with 40s. If you aren’t, then you should be.
VIRGO: O. Henry is one of y’all. You know, the guy who wrote that story about the girl who sells all of her hair in order to buy her husband an expensive watch chain or something only to find that her husband has just sold his watch in order to buy her some expensive hair clips? The thing with you Virgos is that you think this story is cute, and totally about how love really is. Imagine your shock when you do things like cut all of your hair off to buy your husband an expensive watch chain only to discover that he has not sold his watch to buy you hair clips. He has instead gifted you with a workout video and a box of chocolate covered cherries. No wonder you’re pissed, with those kinds of expectations! But at the same time… eat a cherry. You’ll smite him into shape soon enough. Try the self-sacrifice thing again on your 30th anniversary.
LIBRA: You know who else is a Libra? Tom Petty. From the song “You Don’t Know How it Feels”: “So let’s get to the point, let’s roll another joint/ Let’s head on down the road/ There’s somewhere I gotta go/ And you don’t know how it feels/ You don’t know how it feels to be me.” There is no other musician alive who can make what basically amounts to whining sound this cool. And I appreciate that. But can’t you be practical for a second? Joints don’t just grow on trees. If you want one rolled for you this week, you’re going to have to put the top up for a few minutes.
SCORPIO: You want to hear about a dark corner, Scorpio? I went, by myself, to see the Sex and the City movie on a random Thursday night. And cried! I cried when Mr. Big stood Carrie up at the altar and I cried when they reunited at the very end (um, spoiler). I cried when Carrie’s magical negro, Louise, moved back to St. Louis with her Louis Vuitton and I really cried when Miranda and Steve spotted each other on the Brooklyn Bridge after her wild pubic bush forces him to cheat on her and she moves out and doesn’t talk to him and then they go to a shrink to work their marriage out and the shrink tells them to take two weeks to decide whether or not they both show up at a designated meeting spot. Then I walked out right before the credits rolled to make sure nobody saw me. After that, I got Capogiro, by myself, all cryfaced and gross and I didn’t even care who looked at me like they knew what was in my soul. It felt pretty good. Since this is the kind of thing you guys do all the time, I thought I’d commiserate.
SAGITTARIUS: Gigolo, huh… sucka?
That’s what I have to say about that.
CAPRICORN: Just remember, you’re not ten anymore, no matter how your family makes you feel.
AQUARIUS: This is what real astrologer Linda Goodman has to say about Aquarian kids: “Adolescent problems of romance may never bother you. In fact, the Aquarian child may have to be reminded which sex is which. Few of these youngsters are boy crazy or girl crazy. Just plain crazy is more of a possibility, especially when they start wearing those weird clothes and parting their hair in such an odd way. This may be about the time his hidden love of poetry emerges, which should be encouraged. Your little Uranian has frogs in his pockets and stars in his eyes, but he’s very special… like Corky.”
PISCES: Heaven is where we go when we die. Pisces, when you get there, it will be full of every drug imaginable, and no hangovers. There will be rainbows and small, really well made salads and soft, furry kittens that never get old. You will be able to collect whatever you want and distribute it among your friends, who will be there too. Everyone will loll around on many white pillows, and smile with unspoken gratitude for your generous presence because they will all be under the impression that heaven is something that you made happen specifically for them. The production design will be impeccable. There will be small, precious, delightfully surprising finishing touches on everything, even the drawer pulls. When you reach for a little mint candy pillow from the cut crystal bowl, you may be certain that there is no fecal matter on it. Dolly Parton will be there and let everyone take turns resting their heads on her bosom in between sets. Can we jump off a bridge together, Pisces?
Loren Hunt is a writer living in Philadelphia who has channelled your spirit animal through a mixture of high-grade medical marijuana and khat, the drug that has brought Yemen to its knees. More of Ms. Hunt’s writing can be found here; please, she does not want to be disturbed. Direct your queries regarding your horoscope to tips[at]philebrity[dot]com and they will be duly forwarded. Ms. Hunt’s horoscopes shall appear each Monday on Philebrity.
