You will soon be judged by a jury of your peers, although finding 12 equally drunk bus drivers will not be easy.
It turns out the voices in your head that tell you how to behave are called your “conscience” and that listening to them will ruin your career in advertising.
Before this week, you thought “nibbled to death by ducks” was merely a funny way of describing the bureaucratic process.
You are growing increasingly annoyed with popular culture’s continued misinterpretation and trivialization of the vampire’s point of view.
You will experience the sort of pain normally felt only by careless entrants in theWorld’s Strongest Man competition.
You will successfully avoid being pulled over by burly mustachioed state troopers, thanks to your invention of the Gaydar Detector.
You will feel a strange mixture of personal embarrassment and artistic revulsion when you are lampooned by The Capitol Steps.
You were born bearing the burden of original sin, but that has not stopped you from indulging in several hundred derivative types.
Your theory regarding governmentmind-control devices is right, except for the part about the tinfoil helmets being an effective way to stop them.
The paramedics will be forced to rip you out of your suit and cut off your tie to save you from wearing an absolutely ridiculous suit and tie.
You’re half right: Heaven does not, in fact, want you, but Hell is not the least bit concerned that you might take over.
You establish a destructive pattern of behavior this week when you discover how much fun it is to destroy things.
