Sag, this is just for you. C’mon, LAFF!
I think the sign Scorpio is the one who suffers parenting the most. To a Scorpio, under normal circumstances, a parenting ‘fail’ is like getting the death card in the tarot: it’s over, you can’t go back and redo it, it is what it is, game over. When Scorpio does it ‘wrong’, according to their estimation, they don’t (always) lash out at other people; what Scorpio does is punish itself. Ever see the zodiac art with the scorpion turning tail and stinging itself? Exactly.
The Scorpio parent can get so fixed on perfect child rearing that any perceived mistake requires the only acceptable act of contrition: self-destruction. Though Scorpio types are able to (burn themselves down to the ground and) rise from the ashes while making it look effortless, hip, and sexy, only Scorpio will ever know the depth of torment they put themselves through before, during, and after their glorious resurrection. Part of the before and during process involves accounting for every parenting fail Scorpio can think of (Scorpio’s ability to resurrect past transgressions, including their own, is legend). It doesn’t matter if the perceived failure included, but was not limited to, the original procreation (or fornication); Scorpio will go as far back as they deem necessary. They may even spontaneously regress into their own uterine limbo where they are pretty f*****g sure they premeditated future mistakes.
Do you know what Hara-kiri is? Scorpio does. (Good thing they’ve got that whole phoenix routine down.) Scorpio, there’s no need to expect your version of perfect parenting from yourself. Because there is no such thing as perfect parenting. And unless you have a Virgo ascendant like I do, this should be pretty easy to understand: do your best. Just do your best and remember that your spawn will turn out just fine so long as you forgive yourself the same way you taught them to forgive everyone else. Happy parenting, Scorp!
Took a shower. Decided that it’s about time I start wearing clothes without asking the scale what (or if) I should wear clothes. I put on a bra; it didn’t fit. None of my bras fit. Had to grab a bandeau — had to remove the stupid pads. Still couldn’t put it on without…pliers. Muttered to myself that men would think this is a good thing no matter what their age while women (my age) realize this is not a good thing. Realized the dialog running through my mind is excellent stand-up material.
Okay, so we’ve decided that dating sites are “…Russian roulette…” according to Dennis Haynes, and I’ve added that some people on there are going to lie about their marital status even if that includes “not telling ain’t lyin'” situations.
So I’ve decided that the best way to date is to date people you know really well — like classmates, kids from the block — that kind of thing. Most of the time (though there are no guarantees) they will be the same gender they were when you knew them back then because, back then, we all know things made more sense (we’re old enough now to be able to say that). I mean, look: celebrities wore real clothes on the red carpet and sex tapes were bought at Ace hardware — not part of a PR campaign. It made sense.
I cannot guarantee anything other than I was born a female and I have no man-made or otherwise altered or augmented parts. I dunno about anyone else, but I digress, as usual. So here’s what you can expect from a first date with me: “So, I know you don’t like me and let’s be honest here — I don’t like you either. But I’m pretty sure I know how screwed up you are and pretty much the extent of how screwed up your life is. As such, I will tell you ALL about my childhood trauma and other excuses for the reason why I’m so screwed up and I’m on a date with you. Deal? I don’t pay for dates — you do.”
ASTRO-MINDER™ Thursday, July 3, 2014: If you feel like things are picking up speed it’s because they are. Mercury is direct and gaining momentum. Most of you will notice there are suddenly several irons in the fire and they look a whole lot like the irons from the end of May; that’s because they are. This is a good thing, trust me! You do trust me, don’t you? C’mon. I’d never hurt you. I LOVE you too much!
This is the third and last time you’ll have to go over these same wrinkles to iron them out for good! So be sure to do what you have to do, get it right this time, use some spray starch if you have to, but get things smoothed out as best as you can. We’ve talked about the sense of discomfort that we will feel around the 4th. If tomorrow, July 4th celebrations, in the USA aren’t really appealing to you because you’re feeling kind of “off”, then mind your instincts and just stay at home.
If you have pets, of course, protect their sensitive ears from fireworks and be sure they are secured so they don’t bolt out of your yard and into a road or street. My pretty chocolate labrador went missing one year for many hours and I thought I would never see her again. Monty, my 20-year-old, thought to, um, water a tree with his scent so the dog could smell him and her way home if she’d become lost or was disoriented. It sure did work: Truffle showed up exhausted and a bit worse for the wear, and now I never cease marveling at the power of pee!
Be safe, my friends. Don’t drink or do drugs and then drive ANYTHING because you could kill someone or a few people and you’ll likely live to see the rest of your life in prison. That’s if you don’t end up in a vegetative state the rest of your life. Think on that.
God bless you all! Happy 4th!
What a way to start the day, right? The wrong side of the bed may seem like no fun when you’re pulling on your grumpy pants, but there is wisdom in even the worst morning. If you do wake up in the worst way be sure to say “God bless it!” in your loudest voice! Even if you’re too pissy to see the bright side of things, I’m sure you’ll appreciate what I’m about to write even if you never tell me. That’s okay, GRUMPY PANTS!
Men & Women: 6th and 7th Senses. I’m for hire: I’m worth (at least) $138,095 annually per MSN Money!4
I’m beginning to think the old wive’s tale that women have a 6th psychic sense AND a 7th is TRUE: the Woman/Mother Sense which also senses the 7th sense in men, the “If Woman is Here and I’m Asleep, She Will Let the Dog Out/In/Attend to the Kids/Move the Laundry/Be Sure Everything’s In Order” sense. I’m assuming men have a 6th sense and if they don’t, we’ll skip to seven, anyway, for sake of continuity.
Just bear with me: at 4:35 a.m. apparently I’m the only human in this house that hears and responds to the dog’s needs, every night and every morning. This morning, Truffle was at it early but she also had a rough night after being sprayed by a skunk and bathed in unusual combinations of chemicals: she wanted to go outside, she wanted water, she wanted to be spoken to gently, she wanted to go back to bed. I should be in bed! I can’t: my 7th Woman/Mother sense told me to check on the sleeping forms that are my young men whose 6th psychic sense is sharp because they are innocent and whose 7th “If Woman is Here” sense is not yet developed and is in the early stages of “If Mommy is Here She Does it All Because She Gave Birth To and Loves Me” growth (that’s okay, they are children and can even hear the dog while sleeping). Both boys had immunizations yesterday, three including one combination Meningitis/Whooping Cough and Tetanus (the one people hate to get) and at 4:35 a.m., both are running low grade, detectable fevers. One said, “Mom, my arm’s completely numb” to which I responded, “You probably slept on it” and the other said, “Jeez! My arm really HURTS! Someone kicked my a$$!” (clever 11 year old) to which I responded, “Neither of you wanted pain medication yesterday.” I mean, I raise them like men and didn’t hold their hand during immunization (though Todd did, okay, I’ll accept Todd, a male, said he’d do it). The kids were just showing me they recall I taught them that men do not show evidence of pain and suffering because they are not women. I gave the clever round one Tylenol and Ibuprofen, the skinny tall one a bottle of water, and kissed them both on the cheek because it’s not okay for them to demonstrate pain — only quiet discomfort! I’ll let the a$$ word slide tonight — but they cannot demonstrate weakness, “Someone kicked my a$$!” or not!
’Twas The Night Before Christmas, Legal Version, Author Unknown
Whereas, on or about the night prior to Christmas, there did occur at a certain
improved piece of real property (hereinafter “the House”) a general lack of
stirring by all creatures therein, including, but not limited to a mouse.
A variety of foot apparel, e.g. stocking, socks, etc., had been affixed by and
around the chimney in said House in the hope and/or belief that St. Nick a/k/a/
St. Nicholas a/k/a/ Santa Claus (hereinafter “Claus”) would arrive at sometime