Slowly but eventually

Aries (3/21 – 4/19):  I thought I'd try a new idea this week, which is to write little notes all week long so I don't just sit down to write thinking, umm, umm...  And nothing comes, while the sand is sifting through the hour glass, and the mind is blank blank blank.  So I ended up with a bunch of scraps of paper with things like, "Soup.  Root beer store.  Slutty waitress."  Sadly, Aries, that's your horoscope.  I have no idea what it means, but that's sometimes the way it is with horoscopes.  They're mysterious.  But the sand is constantly sliding through the hourglass; try to enjoy every single grain.  (I was going to do that thing of putting a period after every word, as in, "Every.  Single.  Grain.  but I think that might be getting a little over-used, don't you?)

Taurus (4/20 – 5/20):  How embarrassing is it that Michelle Bachmann signed that marriage vow thing about how, um, I hate to even repeat it here, but it seemed to suggest that African Americans were better off under slavery.  Because of their intact families.  If you consider "intact" to be bought and sold, raped, working as, well, slaves, beaten and humiliated . . .   Taurus, that's no horoscope at all, is it.  Shoot.  I can't even find the slips of paper anymore, but I think you're gonna have a good week.

Gemini (5/21 – 6/21): I've looked high and low on the Internets, trying to find information about the (gasp) five foot long snake that was reported to be swimming in Lake Marcel.  Nothing.  Let's just assume it was some form of mirage and keep swimming, shall we?  (By the way, I just saw the smallest snake ever in my garden, it was smaller than a worm.  Still kind of creepy, though.)  This week, keep assuming the best.

Cancer 6/22 – 7/21: So I'm looking to buy a weed whacker, and I do research online the way a flea would, because my attention span is that short.  (By the way, to train your flea circus, the deal is you've gotta reinforce 'em.  Thankfully, that's not the topic today.)  The point here is that there's a little Facebook "like" button on the weed whacker sites.  Really? What's it coming to, Cancer?  Is everything like-able now?  (The battery operated weed whacker that I ended up with, by the way, has a battery life of twelve minutes, which is a perfect match for my attention span.)  Your week will require the utmost patience and courage, but luckily, you've got it.  Fortunately, you won't need an attention span at all.

Leo (7/23 – 8/22): The saddest thing about this woman who was trying to sell her baby, um, well, is the whole thing, but besides that, she was at Taco Bell.  I hope it wasn't a combination Pizza Hut and Taco Bell.  (Click on the link, fer crissakes!)  This week, don't sell yourself for any amount of money, especially in a fast food chain.

Virgo (8/23 – 9/22): Carmageddon is over, finally.  Does it seem ridiculous that the whole world knew that The 405, as they call it down there, closed for a couple of days?  I'm dealing with my own carmageddon here at the lake, where a culvert replacement is about to happen.  You don't see that being broadcast in LA.  That's because, my friend, we have a little bit of tact here in the PNW.  We aren't about the overshare.  Keep that in mind, and use discretion this week. 

Libra (9/23 – 10/22):  The Libras had a good week last week, and can expect more of the same.  In fact, if you send me your address, you can expect a house-cleaning CD to appear in your mailbox. Anyway, the horoscopes are coming very slowly this week, maybe because of the weather. We can barely see the astronomy anymore.  Only in books.

Scorpio (10/23 – 11/21): Were you just about to take up planking when you learned that it's over, and the new thing is owling?  Yes, I thought so.  See if you can create the next thing before it happens.  You'll need a FB account, camera, and an idea.  I hope with certainty that something comes up.

Sagittarius (11/22 – 12/21): The other day, the employee known as "I haven't been trained in that" came out of the office of the young cute (ish) paralegal where he spends his days flirting, saw me, and did that thing guys do when they're kind of pumped about a flirtation where they mimic guns with their hands, and wave the fake guns up and down by their hips.  You know that gesture?  Yeah, it doesn't look so great on the 60 something year old crowd, in case you were curious.  Anyway, I must have looked a little surprised, maybe because the woman is literally half his age. A few hours later he came and said, sheepishly, "If you were wondering what I was doing that for, um...I was mimicking murder suicide, but I got the order wrong." Okay then. This week, be sure to get the order right for things that matter.

Capricorn (12/22 – 1/19):  Miranda July's new movie comes out soon!  Who doesn't like Miranda?  Oh, wait, I read in the NYT that people have whole blogs devoted to not liking her.  Serious soreheads, that's what I think.  This week, don't be a sorehead.

Aquarius (1/20 – 2/18): Hey, good news.  The big state of California now requires that gay history be taught in schools.  Weird that it took a law, but hopefully this will help educate some bullies.  Do that yourself this week -- educate bullies on all manner of things.

Pisces (2/19 – 3/20):  Do you remember, in Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Mr. Prosser?  He was the guy at the beginning who was going to demolish Arthur Dent's house.  So he, and 0.05% of the rest of the world, are direct descendants of Genghis Khan. Anyways, it's both appalling and amazing that Genghis Khan was such a successful pro-creator.  But this is even more interesting, Pisces.  The common side-blotched lizard has a mating strategy similar to rock-paper-scissors!  Orange-throated males win over blue-throated males, who win over yellow-throated males, who, surprisingly, can sneak up on the orange-throated males while Orange is busy fighting Blue, and win the lady.  What this means, Pisces, is that all of us are successful in some way.  This week, remember that paper is a surprisingly strong opening move.