Manly horoscopes

Aries (3/21 – 4/19):  FB is 10 years old now, which make all of those Farmville animals middle-aged.  (How long did Dolly live, anyway?  Oh wait, I'm on the internets!  I could look it up!  Of course I will.)  Although I'm so lacking in material, I will not tell you what I had for dinner, although it was delicious.  No one gives a rats ass what anyone else had for dinner.  

(I'm sorry about the weird font issue here. So sorry, indeed.)

  Taurus (4/20 – 5/20):  I'm having this relationship with my bed that may or may not be affecting other actual relationships with the living humans.  But it's mutual and comfortable.  (Well, it was comfortable, until I started sleeping with a rock, but that's another matter.  An actual rock, in case you're wondering)  Your horoscope, Taurus, is this:  if you're going to sleep with a rock, put it in the microwave for at least three minutes first.  That seems like a long time, and it may also seem like unhoroscopish witch doctoring, but you won't even need a hot mitten or whatever they're called to carry it to your relationship bed.

Gemini (5/21 – 6/21):  Someone suggested that I start a new internet game where I find an article of clothing in a dumpster each week, and take a picture of it next to a picture of something I wear, and see if people can guess which is which.  For about a minute, I was thinking, wow, that would be so fun!  And then I realized, oh wait!  This game, um, it doesn't exactly paint me in the best light...  Gemini, shine your best light this week!  And if you need a light, I have a green tank top and a ghee candle for you. 

Cancer (6/22 – 7/21):  I can't find the citation, dammit, but they've discovered a new portion of the brain that's unique to humans.  How awesome is that?  It separates us from even the higher primates,.  Uh oh.  Not so fast on the awesome, people.  It turns out this is the part of the brain that's involved in schitzophrenia.  Right?  What separates us from the other primates, Cancer, is hearing imaginary voices that tell us to do bad things.  That doesn't come as a huge surprise, but still.  Just listen to the good voices this week, my friends.

Anything worth doing is worth doing poorly.
And so it is with the drawing of the pollinators.

Leo (7/23 – 8/22):  I went on a ride-along recently, which is when one person has to drive and the other person likes companionable knitting, and they join together.  But instead of knitting I mistakenly grabbed a bag with dirty yoga clothes in it.  At first I was disappointed, and then I remembered that the poor dirty yoga clothes never get to go anywhere, and they were glad to get out, even if it was just to Burien, and even if they didn't really get to go.  Leo, I just learned that you live in the house of pleasure.  Astrologically, of course.  The fifth house.

Virgo (8/23 – 9/22): The other day at yoga (oh, it seems awkward that 93.4% of all my sentences begin, "today, at yoga..." or, "I was listening to a podcast..."  But that's not your horoscope.)  Anyway, one of the lovely yoginis was lamenting the fact that her two favorite eyelashes had just fallen out during a make-up removal situation.  She wondered if she still looked okay, and of course she did, but it made me wonder where all the eyelashes go.  Is there an eyelash afterlife?  Do they have to believe in something, like mascara, in order to participate in it?  Anyway, Virgo, you have at least three really awesome eyelashes.  But if they jump, grieve for a while and then try to carry on.

Libra (9/23 – 10/22):   I got it in my head that I need to make ghee lanterns, I'm not sure why, but I bought some butter and then looked up stuff on the internets, and found detailed instructions that became vague at, "make the wick out of a cotton ball", which is kind of like, "spin straw into gold" but whatever.  I bought the cotton balls and twisted them around, and a giant fire ensued, until I watched this instructional video.  Right?  I'm not sure if it's madness or what but I've been laughing for a week now.  Then I made the candle and almost burned down the house.

Scorpio (10/23: One of my people noted that between three of us, we have the makings of a really depressed person -- one of us sleeps, one weeps, and one fails to take pleasure in things that formerly brought delight.  I think I got off easy, being the sleeper.  But it does seem like a fun game, possibly a party ap that could be created, where you find the matching parts to create a malady.  Like, one person has a headache, another person has blurred vision, another has chestpain.  Bingo, hypertension!  Has that ap already been created?

Sagittarius (11/22 – 12/21):  Someone suggested that I take a look at The Art of Manliness website, and after supressing my first thought ("Sheesh, aren't I manly enough already? ), I let my fingers do the walking, (remember that?  Dumbest thing ever.) and went for a visit, and became quickly enthralled.  For example, I'd never even heard of "swamp crotch", which apparently is a thing.  A thing to be prevented.  The part that really captivated my inner manliness is the focus on Manly DIY projects, in particular, Things to Do With Empty Altoid Boxes.  Who's not excited about that, Sag?  See what you can do.

Capricorn (12/22 – 1/19):  The thing about empty altoid tins, Cap, is that they're what you need in a forts, which is what we all really want.  To build a little structure out of blankets or trees, and only bring tiny, organized, useful things, along with blankets, crackers, and one or two friends into it.  That's what the altoid tin craze is all about. The fort apocalypse begins at home, and we prepare with Altoid tins.  What's in them, you ask?  Cool secret stuff.  First aid kits, and emergency supplies, games.  

Aquarius (1/20 – 2/18):  So they found this wooly mammoth tusk in Seattle, which is super cool.  As the plumber who found it said, 

"I've dug a lot of ditches and seen bottles and other weird stuff," he said, "Never anything like this."  

Aquarius, I believe him.  I totally do.  I hope you see some weird stuff this week.  Even weirder than bottles.

Pisces (2/19 – 3/20):  I heard something on a Planet-Moneyish talk on the gabfest about how in every other era, you could hear a few facts about someone (age, level of education, race), and pretty much know their income pattern over a lifetime, but all bets are off with the Gen X and Yers.  They were presenting that as an alarming fact about the demise of the middle class, but maybe its good news.  Maybe Gen X and Y are on their own path, maybe they finally get it, that this is it, this is our one life to live, maybe focusing on making money isn't all it's cracked up to be, and maybe being solidly middle class isn't the dream we all pretend it is.  Maybe the demise of the middle class is really just an uprising of the people, giving the bird to the demographers, playing hide and seek with the charts that can't be made out of them.  Do you think so, Pisces?