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?

 July, 2002
You know what losers? Fuck off. I haven't had a nap in days. I hate you. And yes, that dress does make you look fat.
(mar 21 - apr 19)
It's really hard to quit snorting pills when the government keeps issuing threats of impending doom. It's like you finally decide to get your act together, and then the world goes to shit. So what's the point? Cuz when you think about it, everything was actually pretty good back when you were blacking out 3 times a week and sleeping with roadies from Tesla - or was it toadies from Tulsa? Who cares! It's just a matter of time before you relapse, so why prolong the inevitable?

(april 20 - may 20)
Did you know the Olsen Twins have finally turned 16? Yes, it's true. And you know what that means? Not only will their awesome Wal-Mart clothing line now include a radical selection of gro-bras and sanitary napkin belts, but in just twenty-four months, they'll be full-fledged adults! That's right - at long last, your bizarre masturbatory fantasies in which the nubile Mary-Kate and Ashley star will no longer be tainted by the stink of pedophilic perversion!

(may 21 - june 21)
So now that summer is half over, you decide that maybe it's time to get off your fat ass and get some exercise. Don't bother. You're way past the cellulite point of no return. Besides, the stars say that if you go jogging, you're going to slip in a pile of dog shit and tear a big chunk out of your knee. And with no health insurance, you'll find yourself seeking treatment from some crackhead homepath who'll cover your wounds with live leeches and maggots. Soon after, you'll die from infection.

(june 22 - july 22)
Do you ever daydream about having a time machine? Maybe go back a few months and warn yourself not to shave your pubic hair? See REM before they were a corporate band? Or journey to your junior year at NYU to decide between Ben and Noel? Fucking Felicity. All I'm saying is that if you get access to a time machine, you should do a hell of a lot more important shit than contemplate how to get laid. At the very least, sell short on Enron.

(july 23 - august 22)
You will move to Midland, Texas and fall into a deep well behind a trailer park. For seven days and seven nights, all the world will be riveted by your fight to stay alive while brave volunteers tunnel to rescue you. At last, your excrement-smeared body will be pulled from the earth, and you will bask in the warm glow of public adoration and untold thousands in unsolicited donations, the latter of which you will quickly squander on meth binges before fading into such total obscurity, that even 20/20 won't do follow-up segments on you.

(august 23 - september 22)
This month finds you seriously contemplating walking away from everything you've ever known, buying a plane ticket and moving to Finland. Sure, you don't know anyone there and can't speak a word of finlandese, but you're a champ at guzzling lousy vodka and watching reindeer fuck. Sadly, just minutes before your flight takes off, you remember how much you hate blonde foreigners - in addition to blondes who listen to Foreigner - and decide to stay at home.

(september 23 - october 23)
This month finds you giving in to your life-long desire to travel across America hobo-style, watching the majestic countryside roll by from a charmingly rustic perch inside a succession of empty freight train cars. Too bad you can't fight for shit, because the real hobos don't take kindly to voluntarily homeless newbies, and they will strip you naked, smash Everclear bottles over your head, then throw your lifeless body onto the tracks, where an eastern-bound Union Pacific chemo-tanker will clip off both your legs from the crotch down. Don't say I didn't warn you.

(october 24 - november 21)
A so-called friend will insist you borrow and read their dog-eared copy of David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest, telling you that it is the most amazing book ever written -- as soon as you get past those first 700 pages. So you tote it around in coffee shops to impress pixyish young girls in potato sack dresses and black-framed glasses who reckon themselves members of the cultural elite. Luckily for you, it works. Unluckily for you, you get mad crabs.

(november 22 - december 21)
This month you will fall head over heels in love with the president of the local chapter of the Young Republicans. Soon, you'll be caught up in a whirlwind of romantic activities: reading aloud from Ann Coulter columns, distributing campaign literature in the parking lot of Home Depot, and mailing hoax anthrax letters to abortion clinics. And then, just when you think it can't get any better, he'll invite five fraternity brothers over to join in the magic of your tender lovemaking.

(december 22 - january 19)
You will lose your hand in a tub of acid. No, not the fun kind of acid. Or maybe you lose it in a poker game. Actually, it might just be a few dollars and not your hand. Hmm. I'm not actually sure. Wait… is it your keys? Yes! You will lose your keys. And then you will call a locksmith, get charged 95 dollars to get back into your home at 4 a.m. and find your three extra sets of keys sitting on the table, mocking you. How can keys mock? I don't know. I just write this garbage.

(january 20 - february 18)
You're the kind of person who always seems to go to work without a jacket, then when it's time to go home, there's a goddamn rainstorm going on. And you don't believe in umbrellas because your issues with rain have more to do with wet feet than wet hair. And you also wear a lot of wool so not only do you get soaked, but you smell like a huge wet dog, too. And then you don't dry anything correctly so it gets covered in mildew. God, you're repulsive. No wonder your parents secretly hate you.

(february 19 - march 20)
You've been eating like a cow lately, Pisces - or more accurately a cow on speed. Wait, no, a cow that smokes mad herbs. Too bad I'm only talking about quantity of eats - and not the actual bovine diet. Because you see, cows are vegan and only consume massive amounts of grass. You, on the other hand, cram your piehole full of steaks, Hostess cupcakes, and stuffed deep-dish pizzas. That's why your ass looks like someone spilled a big bucket of rancid cottage cheese on it. Sucks to be you.

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