A look into the stars for the week starting on the first of March
Virgo
Things have been hard for you so far this year. The death of your pet cat Snaggles in a grotesque cricket accident only served to add salt to the gaping wound of your torn emotions. It started when Damien left you. Am I right? You thought you had a future together, you and old Damo. You had just started to plan your and the D-bomb’s wedding and kids and car and pets and the like. Then we had to go and cheat on you with that skrag Scarlett. But, trust me. It was for the best.
Now, the orbit of Mercury tells me that you need to just get over it. “These things happen,” says the lofty tilt of our Mercurian orb, “so man up or man out.” Sure it hurts inside you. Yes, your emotions are a cauldron of pain stirred by a coven of psychological witches whose names spell ‘self-doubt’, but guess what? There are people dying out there. All that happened was that you found out that your meat-head of man chunk was dipping his lolly in other people’s sherbet. So stop crying into your Lime Bacardi Breezers and try developing a set of real emotions you vapid monster.
Everyone who isn’t a Virgo
Look. Seriously. You have to do the dishes. Tonight I want to you to go outside and look at Venus. Then you’ll be all like “What the fudge? Why burns Venus so red and bright this night?” Do you want to know why? IT’S BECAUSE VENUS WANTS YOU TO PICK UP A GLODDAMNNED SPONGE AND CLEAN THE DISHES. Oh, what’s this? A bowl of cereal? Oh, well, once upon a time it was. Now it is a discarded grotesque bowl of mould. It looks more like an abstract pictorial representation of the mindset of people who eat chalk for sexual kicks.
But aren’t you the only one who eats cereal? Odd. And you haven’t been able to afford cereal in months. What’s that? Am I implying that you’ve managed to not even clean a single bowl in several months? Well I’m not. I AM TELLING YOU. Have you noticed no one in the flat talks to you anymore? That’s because they hate you. And why do they hate you? Because you are too self-centered to take a break from your admittedly packed timetable of masturbation and complaining about how you’re so stressed DOING NOTHING to study. Venus is angry, Non-Virgan. And if you don’t want to be killed in an electrical fire in the next two days, you have to do the dishes.