An unexpected accident will cause you to give up bowling for sex, which is fortunate because you won’t have to wear special shoes and the balls are lighter.
Your continuing hair loss leaves you with what some may call a bald spot. Only you will know that it is in truth a solar panel for a sex machine.
Trouble continues on the romantic front this week when you discover that marriage is not a word—it’s a sentence.
With winter on its way, keep in mind that sex is like snow—you never know how long it will last or how many inches you will get.
You will soon realize your forbidden fantasy of having two men—one cooking and one cleaning.
Gender issues at the office force you to face the fact that when God created Man, she was only kidding.
Saturn and Venus align in Virgo this week, so if it has tits or wheels it’ll give you trouble.
Mars descendant in Scorpio indicates that you would rather push a Ford than drive a Chevy.
Tragedy strikes this week, when you are informed by doctors that you suffer from CRS Disease—Can’t Remember Shit.
A shift in the power structure at work leaves you with a dilemma: Do you want to speak to the man in charge— or the woman who knows what’s going on?
A milestone looms before you on your life’s road. Reassure yourself by considering that “forty” is not “the F-word.”
A conflict between responsibility and self-indulgence is resolved when you remember that you can always retake a class, but you can never relive a party.
