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Hey losers! I'm Pam. After I lost my job, my health insurance, and my
Prozac, the voices in my head came back, and now I can tell the future. Rad, huh?
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January, 2003
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Listen up, losers: while 2002 was a banner year for those of us in the forsaken-by-God crowd, 2003 promises to be plenty worse. Yes, yours truly has gazed into the abyss - and it puked on me. So take this as a warning. Raise the drawbridge, string up the barbed wire, and light the Molotov cocktails, because I'm guaranteeing another suck-ass twelve months for you and yours.
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Late in the month, a once-familiar presence will creep back into your life. Be careful though! Just because they're familiar doesn't mean that they're an old friend or even good. It could very well be that stalker guy from high school who used to park his van in front of your house and masturbate. Or maybe it's the repo man you narrowly escaped by moving across the country. Of course it could also be the cold, cruel hand of death...
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A shower of joy will engulf you this month as Saturn moves into the fourth house. You'll be surrounded by puppies and candy and the love of the truly blessed. Oh wait, that's some other sign. YOU will wait for the bus in the freezing cold and get frostbite on your fingers. Then you'll go to the liquor store to buy wine, only to find out they don't stock your cheapo brand. And so you'll go home, where you will surrender to delirium tremens, rock back and forth, and cry.
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The duality of your nature is not unlike Angel. No, not the sexy-but-benevolent TV vampire who hunts down evil on the mean streets of Los Angeles. You're more like the straight-A-student-by-day, Hollywood-hooker-by-night Angel. And though in later sequels, Angel went on to make it in the real world, she never quite shed the discomfort of knowing that deep down she was really just a cheap slut. Yup, you're kinda like her.
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Don't be paranoid this month, Cancer, but I have it on good source that your friends are going out of their way to avoid you. Maybe it's because you have this way of being a - I don't know - melodramatic emotional bulimic? Overreacting to everything anyone says and vomiting your neuroses in their lap? Anyway, I'm being hypothetical here, but actually, chill out before your friends start lurking around in trench coats and fake moustaches.
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Sitting around feeling sorry for yourself is no way to carry on. If you're going to hibernate, have crying fits and contemplate moving in with your parents, you should really talk to someone. I suggest laying all your fears and anxieties on an unsuspecting stranger, like someone you meet on public transportation. You'll get some great advice - or they'll move away and leave you the seat all to yourself. Either way - SCORE!
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(august 23 - september 22) |
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Doesn't it seem like no one appreciates you, Virgo? You're surrounded by blowhards and wannabes and no one can see your true potential. This week, you'll have that idyllic dream again where the world is populated by nothing but perfectly humble geniuses like yourself. Isn't that a great dream? It was Stalin's dream too. Here's to psychopathic dictators with handlebar moustaches and severe sexual dysfunction! Cheers!
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(september 23 - october 23) |
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It takes a strong person to admit when they're wrong. And it takes an even stronger person to go up to the first person and beat the shit out of him until he admits that he's wrong. You may be called upon to do both this month, as a brewing disagreement among peers comes to an ugly head. And though you know you should stay out of it, you're just itching to use those novelty brass knuckles you just got at Urban Outfitters!
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(october 24 - november 21) |
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Recently, your emotions have been on a roller coaster of sorts. Specifically, they've been on the Tilt-a-Whirl, wedged next to a fat kid who keeps throwing up half-digested fried dough. Fortunately, things will settle down this month. You'll watch a Meg Ryan movie, and be so inspired by her quirkiness, that you'll twist your hair into a mop of floppy blonde curls, make sickeningly cute faces, and pop loads of Valium. Hooray for Meg!
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(november 22 - december 21) |
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This month, your bank will misplace all the $400 unemployment checks you deposit. This will lead to at least $500 in late and overdraft fees, so you'll decide to cash the check your parents gave you for Christmas, only to get rejected for having no ID. So you'll start screaming like a lunatic, prompting the teller to summon security, who will subject you to a vigorously pleasurable body cavity search. Ooooooh, yeah.
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(december 22 - january 19) |
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You'll wake up one day in late January and realize that you have no conscience - and only the shredded remains of what was once a soul. And will it bother you? Not really, since you're surrounded by a bevy of vacuous well-wishers and loser acquaintances who steer you down the path of mediocrity. So you'll drink your Wild Turkey and stick your head in the oven. Too bad it's electric. NEXT MONTH: Your new life without eyebrows.
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(january 20 - february 18) |
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On the 28th you will start to notice that the skin on your back and ass has been breaking out much more than usual. Like, it's totally a zit city gross-out. Is it the non-stop binging on stuffed pizza, misery, and "7th Heaven" reruns? Or is it the stress from learning that you're not wanted and/or easily replaced among friends? Maybe it's the flux of Mercury in the forbidden zone. No, actually, it's the aerosol cheese.
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With Jupiter entering the twelfth house, this month finds you descending into a cleaning fervor, during which you discover rare and interesting personal antiquities. Maybe it's an old photograph, or a love letter, or that evidence acquitting your aunt of killing everyone in her apartment complex. Whatever it is - it's treasure. And you know what to do with treasure, right? Keep it a secret - so no one can EVER take it from you. No one!
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