Don’t worry: There is nothing wrong with you that emergency brain surgery and a quadruple bypass within the next 90 minutes won’t solve.
You’ll have yet another disastrous first date when you get something stuck between your front teeth and a crosstown.
The reality turns out to be okay, but when you heard the phrase “taco truck,” you pictured a giant taco that was also a truck.
While it’s true that someone in Baltimore loves you, this is less a reason for a jaunty T-shirt than a cause for genuine concern.
The stars hear your unasked question, and the answer you seek is: “If they keep losing their opener to the Pirates, way more than 103 years.”
You’ll be spared a potential source of great conflict and divisiveness in your life this week when it’s born dead.
Your lips are red and chapped because you keep licking them. To balance this out, lick yourself raw everywhere else.
Next week will call for many, many pairs of leather pants, which would be fine with you if they didn’t have to be the kind of pants with asses in them.
You’ll soon be feeling like your old self again thanks to a sudden and tragic relapse into alcoholism.
The sudden spike in the salmon population is no surprise to anyone who knows the real reason you like swimming so much.
A regular routine can provide much-needed structure, but you might be better off if you didn’t start every day with a guy trying to saw your head off.
It’s probably best if you just put your head down and keep sharpening pencils for the next few years.
