It’s Been One Week Since You Looked At Me
After the jump, Loren Hunt reveals that, holy hell, almost everyone is getting laid this week! Except for you, Aquarius. For you, it’s the Bare Naked Ladies. Yes, the band. Reasons why after the jump.
ARIES: If you have not yet located your voice of reason, I’m going to suggest that maybe you haven’t been listening to the right voice in your head. The voice I’m talking about is physically imposing yet cuddly, wears a flowered apron, cooks you your favorite foods, and says things like, “Honeychile, best leave him where God flung him.” The advice this voice gives you is practical, yet compassionate, not afraid to treat you like the blasphemously naughty little child you often are, and when you hear it, you know in your heart that the voice is undoubtedly right. If you are still under the impression that the owner of this voice is someone to be bossed by you, you have been watching all the wrong movies.
TAURUS: The stars this week seem to be dredging up all manner of weird memories from your early sexual history, Taurus. The weirdest thing about some of them is that they are often the kinds of things that wouldn’t seem sexual to anyone other than a little kid. It’s like that time the neighbor girl accidentally stepped on your balls when you were playing Twister at five, and you thought it was awesome. Or the tie that looked like a dead fish worn by your kindergarten teacher that made you feel kind of funny in the pants. As you’re remembering this week, Taurus, don’t judge yourself for your own responses. Ask any forthright mom and she’ll tell you that little kids are some of the biggest perverts you’ll ever have the pleasure of meeting.
GEMINI: Apparently, you’re supposed to watch yourself in traffic this week. It took me a second to realize that what is probably meant by this is driving in traffic as opposed to my first reaction which was something like, “Haha, playing in traffic is the kind of thing that only a Gemini would think was a good idea.” I imagined a ticked-off mother telling a Gemini kid to “go play in traffic!” and the mini-Gemini’s ensuing hours upon hours of fun. My instinct tells me that driving should pose no problems, as Mercury slips out of retrograde and into something a little less hectic this week. Playing in traffic, on the other hand… you might want to ask yourself WHY this is so entertaining for you, and maybe come up with a safer alternative.
CANCER: Happy Birthday, Cancer! Man, am I glad to see the sun back in your sign, because you know how to take care of it. First there’s the birthday cake you’ll make it, fluffy and white and delicious and sprinkled with little silver nonpareils. Next there’s the softshoe routine you’ll break out in its honor, full of all the classic earnestness that causes you to wonder if people are laughing with you or laughing at you. You made the sun a present! How nice. It’s a… hand crocheted blanket? Well, that certainly looks very cozy, and I’m sure even suns need blankets too sometimes. What else? Oh… look at that… you’re smiling. It’s about time, Cancer. Many happy returns to you and yours.
LEO: Hey, Leo. Shit in your hand. Put that precious little wish of yours into the other one. Rub ‘em together, and see which one you get more of. Well?
VIRGO: I just realized, Virgo, that you have been tanning. No one would ever suspect you of willfully engaging in an activity that is likely to someday make you look older than your years if not give you outright skin cancer, but you’ve been hiding this dirty little secret, all the while pretending that your bronzed, healthy-looking limbs are just “something that happens in the summer.” Now, tell me how you justify this to yourself, because I’ve been dying to go tanning all summer and keep stopping myself due to the various risks. And I know you’re not a risk-taker, which makes me really want to believe that tanning is actually okay for you. Is it the vitamin D? The relief from stress and depression that tanning is said to encourage in some people? Or is vanity sometimes just worth it? After I heard that you did this, I started to think that I’d come out on the wrong side of my own logical processes. Tell me your secret!
LIBRA: One of the great sufferers of the zodiac, Libra often finds itself wringing its hands over something. The difference between you and everyone else, Libra, is that before mounting your fainting couch for a heavy misery session, you shave first. In fact, you’ve probably actually been laid on that fainting couch. Librans are born opportunists who have an inherent knowledge of how sexy their distress may be to others and may have even been guilty of playing this up once or twice. If this describes you this week, find yourself a Cancer, Pisces, or Capricorn to give you a back rub. They have that thing you’re after.
SCORPIO: They’re telling me that you want to do it with strangers who have foreign accents this week. I don’t know what to think about that except that it’s probably true, considering that Scorpios have at least thought about having sex with almost every other kind of person walking the planet. This week finds you polishing one of your empty trophy shelves, whistling a little dirge to yourself, and drinking a Boone’s Farm.
SAGITTARIUS: I had this gnarly dream last night about going to what was supposedly “Cirque du Soleil.” On the bus there, I ate my male seat mate’s penis. Like really ate it, as though it was a hot dog. He assured me it would grow back, like a salamander’s tail, and that it wouldn’t hurt him. It tasted okay. Then when we got there, I stole a pair of those cheap Chinese slippers that were lying in huge bins along a corridor, convincing myself that it wasn’t stealing and they were merely gratis for enduring the long bus ride. There was a big banquet laid out for all of we Cirque du Soleil-goers that apparently included a dish made from skinned live babies. I didn’t get to the part where I actually ate it, but in the dream, I was fully prepared to When-in-Rome it up with everyone else. It wasn’t long before the whole thing disintegrated into a zombie movie. I believe at one point, my front tooth fell out. I woke up convinced there was a stranger in my house, yet unable to move. It would be easy to infer from this that God hates me, and by proxy, all Sagittarians. That’s too easy, though. I was moved to find some sort of concrete answer as to what my dream meant. Turns out, it all has to do with coming to terms with my own ambition. Come to terms with your ambition with me this week, fellow Sagittarians. It looks like the feast has already been laid out.
CAPRICORN: This week, Caps return home after a stressfully fun, exciting vacation full of their loved ones and champagne and hugging, and you can’t wait for the good part to start, which is the part where you get home and have some time to yourself. The first thing you’re going to do is take a nap, and by Cracky, you deserve it. Then, you’re going to open up your computer and do some nice, leisurely work. Idle hands are the devil’s playground, as you just recently learned, so after that you’re going to touch yourself in a way that might be seen as inappropriate in mixed company. The silence will be like cracking open a nice, cold beer, which you will also do, in its due time. The only thing better than being on vacation is not being on vacation.
AQUARIUS: I actually tried to argue with someone once that this wasn’t the worst song EVER. I’m eating my words. It’s so bad that I can’t stop listening to it and cringing. Today is Barenaked Ladies (B! N! L!) frontman Steven Page’s birthday, so I guess this makes me an asshole, but if anyone will understand (or come up with a song possibly worse than this), it’s you, Aquarius.
PISCES: You have been working so hard lately that you may have begun to sing this little song to yourself that sounds like “Fergalicious” but with the words changed to “Workalicious.” This is because you truly feel yourself to be workalicious right now, enjoying the intricate dance of getting along with co-workers even while asserting yourself in your own, uniquely non-assertive way. Now that I’m singing the little song to myself, it even sounds kind of good and almost makes me want to be workalicious myself. But come on. Your friends miss you.
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.
