It turns out that Andy Warhol overestimated the duration of your fame by about 14 and a half minutes.
You’ll have your train of thought derailed this week, instantly killing thousands of Indian passengers, injuring countless livestock, and choking the streets with cargo and crew.
Since the dawn of time, man has dreamed of flying. After this Thursday, though, it’ll mostly just be nightmares.
It’s not true that everything you like is illegal, immoral, or fattening, but that’s because you’re a boring Puritan with no imagination or glands.
Not that it’s really the zodiac’s business, but most people take the dead goldfish out of the tank before adding new ones. The same goes for the drowned cats.
A freak accident this week will endow you with the relative strength and speed of 10 wheelchair-bound men.
You’ve never paid much attention to abandoned offshore oil platforms before, but suddenly everyone seems to think they’d be perfect for you.
Getting laid off is a tough pill to swallow, though that’s primarily because it’s a suppository.
Through the impressive process of extending Orion’s celestial finger, the stars indicate that you should fuck off.
Sometimes you wish you could just close your eyes and disappear. Wait, no. Not sometimes. Always.
Next time, when passing a note intended to find out if someone likes you, you’ll know to provide more than one box to check.
Although you’ve certainly slept your way somewhere, no one would ever mistake it for the top.
