Friends will once again claim this week that you should’ve been born during a different time, particularly one where pregnant women weren’t ingesting Thalidomide as frequently.
Days after the plane crash, surrounded by the skeletal remains of hundreds of former passengers, you’ll be overcome by a phenomenon known as “survivor’s indigestion.”
Everyone brags about their kids, but remember, the law named after your daughter has only been adopted in 48 out of 50 states.
Apple Computer will have limited interest in your prototype of a new iPod that holds up to four songs, yet fits comfortably inside an ordinary dump truck.
As grim as the situation may at first appear, the death toll will be surprisingly low after a school bus runs head-on into a local bloodmobile this week.
Skeptic James Randi will award you a check for $1,000,000 next week, after you are observed thoroughly enjoying that new Brad Garrett sitcom.
They can take your wife, they can even take away your children, but they’re going to need a much bigger hearse to do it all at once.
Your 25-year high school reunion this week will reveal how little the Class of ’83, and its bitter struggle with math, has changed over time.
Sagittarius apologizes for the last couple of weeks, man… it’s just that it’s been so busy and all lately. Anyway, um, horoscope… um, you’ll have a heart attack. Shit. Sorry.
The dismal opening-night receipts of
You will bury yourself in your work this week, which would not be a problem if you weren’t a gravedigger.
A race war will break out in the deepest dark of night, giving one side the definite upper hand.
