More horoscopes

Aries (3/21 – 4/19):  Today, the receptionist called me on the phone and said, "You have a delivery!  It's for you, you should come down right away!"  She said it in a cheery voice, so as I walked downstairs, I tried to think -- is it my birthday?  I bet it's flowers or chocolate!  Did I actually win the lottery or some other contest?  But when I got there, it was a skeevy process server.  Subpoenaed.  Court on Monday for some stupid project I never even worked on.  Grr.  That, my friend, is a lesson in not getting your hopes up too soon.

Taurus (4/20 – 5/20):  I realized today, as I was listening to a podcast that involved a granola throw down, that I'm so easily amused that, well, it actually is funny.  Who does that?  Who listens to a podcast of people sitting around talking about which granola and chewing?  It's come to this, Taurus.  See if you can liven things up.  Please.

Gemini (5/21 – 6/21): I have an ex that one of my friends calls, "The Outerwear Stalker," because he has shown up unexpectedly demanding pants, coats, and boots back that he gave loaned me for Christmas.  Let this be a lesson to you, Gemini -- wear clean, respectable underwear in case someone shows up demanding the pants you're wearing.  Don't be caught in a thong.  And while we're talking about the pants area, don't ever ask whether your pants make your butt look big.  Just be grateful you have pants.

Cancer 6/22 – 7/21:  We're on Republican debate number 26 or something, and the thing I've been wondering about is whether any of the candidates been infected by Toxoplasmosis.  You've all read this by now, I'm sure, but in case you haven't, do it right away!  (I know, I've already confessed that I listen to podcasts about granola, but seriously, it's quite interesting.  I think Newt has the cat parasite.  That's my prophecy, Cancer.

Leo (7/23 – 8/22):  (Did you like how I called that a prophecy, Leo?  I know.)  Anyway, there's a bunch of stuff I know nothing about, but you do, like Downton Abbey or whatever it's called.  I have a TV, but sadly, the room that it's in is about 35.5 degrees, and ever since the damn government made us get the converter box, I haven't really known how to use it.  Am I missing anything, Leo?

Virgo (8/23 – 9/22):  Speaking of stuff I know nothing about, what's the deal with Pinterest?  I find it annoying, but maybe I should lighten up.  It seems like it's a convenient way for people to become corporations too, by shopping online for images and tagging them so they show up on your page.  Then other people can look at your page, and think things like, "wow, she likes some really cute boots!  Too bad she's always just schlepping around in Keens."  Anyway, on Pinterest, you tag pictures in  the same way that your 12-year-old self would cut grand houses and cute outfits out of magazines, but this is for grown-ups.  The reason that I was exploring it is because Mrs. Mitt Romney (I didn't name her that!), whom I stalk in a mild, 'keep your outerwear, Annie' way, has a page that involves uneventful recipes and "patriotic" things, which leads me on a few different rants.  One is, when did patriotism get reduced to red, white, and blue chex mix?  Seriously, can we call the Occupiers patriots, and chex mix a really inferior party snack for stoned people?  Okay, Virgo, I'll stop there.

Libra (9/23 – 10/22):  Today (before the subpoena arrived) they announced that they will be announcing an undetermined number of layoffs at an undetermined time, but the jobs will definitely end on June 1.  It's super reassuring, but anyway, I was telling my boss that I've been beefing up my resume by always doing self-check at the store.  "I'll be adding 'grocery checkout' as a volunteer activity, which makes me pretty marketable, right?"  I started pantomiming scanning, including doing some produce.  "Wait," he stopped me, "what are you doing right now?  "That was an orange.  First I had to plug in the PLU, 3027, and then put it on the scanner to weigh."  "How do you learn all this stuff," he asked.  I know.  Anyway, if you know of any openings for someone like me, and by that, I mean the sort of person who listens to podcasts about granola and stuff, let me know.

Scorpio (10/23 – 11/21):  Do you ever have that thing where you get an e-mail, "hey, was that your daughter on the news last night?" Yep.  The adorable one running alone in the middle of the night near the scene of a murder, saying, "I'm not really worried about it.  It happens."  That's my girl.  But Scorpio, live as if you're going to die, which we all are.  Just not right away.

Sagittarius (11/22 – 12/21):  I've been having little anxiety attacks lately where I wake up at night in a panic, imagining that someone has shown up in the dark, demanding articles of clothing back, and it's hard to take a deep breath after that, so I lie there doing that fake deep breath/yawn thing most of the night and listen to podcasts, not all of them about granola.  I'd like to recommend Too Much Information, which is described as, ""the sober hangover after the digital party has run out of memes, apps and schemes. Host Benjamen Walker finds out that, in a world where everyone overshares the truth 140 characters at a time, telling tales might be the most honest thing to do."  I have so many other podcasts to recommend, it may be a whole post one day.  Anyway, check out TMI.

My beer cap log

Capricorn (12/22 – 1/19): For a while, it seemed like every time I opened a Redhook ESB, which is most evenings, I'd get the forecaster guy on the underside of the bottle cap, which was pretty disappointing, because all I really want out of life is a little saying.  Is that so freakin' much to ask?  I don't want a silhouette of the forecaster guy.  I think it's Inversion IPA that says, "Bravely done!"  Which is great the first time, and then seems insincere, and we're not for that, Capricorn.  But back to my point:  It turns out I really don't get the forecaster guy.  Ever.  Capricorn, maybe things aren't really as annoying as they might seem.  Keep that.  And don't forget to breathe.

Aquarius (1/20 – 2/18):  The other day I went to talk to my boss about my suspicion that he's been infected with Toxoplasmosis.  "You're kind of paranoid, and you react slowly."  He also didn't seem to mind the smell of the cat pee pants, another diagnostic, but I didn't want to bring that up.  He looked kind of nervous, and said he had a cat that he got when it was two ("or maybe it was three") months old, but because of my difficulty understanding things lately, I thought he was telling me he got a cat when he was two or three months old.  We went around like that for a while until we stopped, but I think he might be on my side.

Pisces (2/19 – 3/20):  I stopped at Tolt-McDonald Park today to walk across the bridge and check out the flood, but alas, there was too much water to get to the bridge.  I spent a long time trying to decide whether I was sad or happy about that.  I know.  Really, Pisces, that's what's wrong with America.  Too much over-thinking.  But you kind of see my point, right?  I was excited that the flood was big enough, but also disappointed that I couldn't get to the bridge, and I really had no idea which was the bigger thing.  Don't do that, Pisces.  Just be.