ASTROLIQUOR for May 25-31—What the stars say you should drink!

My Fellow Inebriates,

Here’s your booze horoscope:

You find yourself reminiscing about January/February, Aries, even though you lolloped through them in a Crown Royal haze. But don’t fixate on the past—June promises just as much drunkenness, although it will feature more sickly liqueurs and vomiting. During one of your lucid moments an old flame will appear and stir up old feelings. Tell your partner or spouse about this person; maybe you can swing a threesome.

Taurus, your life is seeming monotonous right now, and in an effort to generate some novelty you’re showing previously private facets of yourself in public. People like the new you(s) much better than the old you, so maybe you should bury your old self. Maintaining your newfound inhibition is easy with a constant alcohol drip. But make it exciting—Aftershock hot & cool cinnamon schnapps for you.

What the hell is going on with the stars, Gemini, to foster such boring thoughts? You’re thinking investments, pension plans, insurance. Yikes, do you ever need a drink…In fact, you need a silly drink:

  • 2 oz banana schnapps
  • 2 oz Malibu
  • 2 oz rum
  • 6 oz orange juice
  • 4 oz pineapple juice
  • 1/2 cup Tang powder

Down that and see how responsible you feel.

You went nuts spending in February/March, Cancer, but you’re regaining control. By June you’ll breathe some relief, but don’t get complacent—July will be expensive. You won’t see it coming, but it will flatten you! Sure, this really sucks and the stars can be a bitch, but you can still drink Scotch. Just choose a cheaper blended whiskey and you’re good to go.

Leo, your family and friends are enjoying your company these days. You’re so sunny and happy; you brighten their days, even if you’re too pissed to remember your thoughts and actions afterward. Try not to be too generous; you mustn’t spend every single penny on others. You can’t have a well-stocked bar without some money. (Do you have a supply of white rum and Blue Curacao? Daiquiri mix?) Stay happy because your hormones are going to go crazy next week.

This week presents an opportunity to oust a thorn from your side, Virgo, albeit diplomatically. No more taking shit! You have the social skills to jettison negative people without jeopardizing your work situation—do it. If you need some liquid courage, try a vodka/Tang combo. That’s what the astronauts took to the moon with them. (Or was it the television sound stage?)

Libra, as a natural conversationalist you are the recipient of all sorts of unexpected info from friends, neighbors, fellow parents…you name it. People are telling you the freakiest shit. It may be interesting for a while, but make sure you know when to call the police. Also, know when it’s okay not to call the police (if the animal comes back for more, for instance). Still, it’s an information overload. You’ll need some gin to soften the edges.

Your intuition is bang-on this week, Scorpio. Deliberately ignore rational thought and go with your feelings. Fact is, you’ve been following this course for a while now and things are panning out. But where’s the alcohol in this picture? OMG, the stars are forecasting things like hot cocoa and Ovaltine! Holy crap, this is a crisis—you will have to trust your intuition and find some alcohol without guidance. Let me know what you pick. The stars are real assholes sometimes.

Sagittarius, there’s a financial windfall coming your way. You’ll be able to fix up your house or buy some furniture…or build a spanky new bar. Take some time to think about how to spend your new riches. Take a relaxing walk; stagger around the countryside with a wine bottle perhaps. If necessary, wait until November to pull the trigger on a home improvement project (or just spend the money now on liquor).

You’re feeling flirtatious, Capricorn. More plainly, you’re feeling horny. This is great if you’re in a loving relationship, but if things have been rocky for a while then…strap in for some drama, because your flirtation will involve a new person. Hate to tell you this, but the stars aren’t too optimistic about it. They’re calling for lashings of disillusionment and pear vodka.

Aquarius, this week looks good for contacting people. So take a shower, find some clean underwear, and go outside. You’re so hungry for human contact that every encounter seems rife with energy and importance; even the most superficial exchange carries golden meaning. That’s what comes of being perpetually hosed on tequila and triple sec. Invite some people over to share it.

Pisces, technical problems abound this week. Your phone, your computer, your sat receiver—if it has a microchip it will give you a shit time. Even your car will act up, which is a good reason to stow the keys until this bad star situation passes. With your car keys safely put away you can really misbehave. Why not make a really frivolous martini…vodka with Chambord, for instance? Just don’t shake it anywhere near your stereo or keyboard.

The dark side of gummy bear hedonism

I got a shock when I looked at my gummy bears this morning.

They were supposed to look happy and plumply saturated with rum.

But instead, they’d turned into goo.

Neither of my two brain cells had remembered my own posts about flavoring vodka with Skittles and Jolly Ranchers, a process in which those candies dissolve uniformly…

I felt sick.

It reminded me of Breaking Bad—meth-peddling thugs get liquefied in an acid bath after messing with the wrong dudes. Only my little bears weren’t thugs, and I was the wrong dude.

The horror.

My head was spinning. Holy shit, I’d done something ghastly to my little compatriots and there was no way they were coming back from it.

What would you do??

I had to get my head on straight.

I visited my friend Blackie Bear, not generally known for sensible advice, but comforting in a bearish way.

If he was shocked about the fate of the gummy bears he didn’t indicate it; he maintained a neutral expression as I poured out the story of their execution.

Blackie is a good listener.

Finally he said, “Bro, you can’t get upset about it. Gummy bears aren’t like us, buddy. They don’t feel. They’re not smart. They’re just…candy. You don’t think those gummy bears chose to dive into the Bacardi, do you?”

“No,” I said. “I gave them a pep talk first. And now they’re dead.”

Blackie was still for a while. Actually, he’s good at staying still. Sometimes he doesn’t move at all for days. He stared at me very hard for a long time before saying:

Dude. Dude, those bears aren’t bears, they’re just candy. You can’t anthropomorphize them.”

I looked into Blackie’s dark, beady eyes, close-set in his smallish head. He is so cuddly, Blackie Bear. But as I peered at him I was overwhelmed by a troubling thought. Something inescapable rose in me like a scream. Blackie isn’t…he isn’t….Blackie isn’t really…he’s not a real…

He’s not a real psychiatrist. I mean, he doesn’t have any training or anything. I don’t even know where he learned the word “anthropomorphize.”

The secret world of hedonistic gummy bears

My Fellow Inebriates,

One of my Facebook friends posted this on my wall:

The Internet is full of good ideas, as anyone who’s ever researched a possible medical condition will attest. There aren’t too many better ideas than this one.

As it happened, four-year-old Miss V had a whole bunch of gummy bears, and there was a mostly empty bottle of Bacardi Big Apple languishing in the liquor cabinet. Perfect preschool activity, wouldn’t you say?

But first I had to ask the gummy bears what they thought of the idea.

They were totally cool with it, although the white one kept falling down, which made me think it was drunk already.

Even as I warned them about the hazards, the white one wasn’t listening.

V and I helped them line up. Look at that yellow one getting pushy.

At the top, the gummy bear hesitated. So V ate it.

He who hesitates is lost. V nabbed this one as well. She didn’t really think we were going to let them drop.

Nor did my mother. This was totally an accident (the kind that happens when you prop a 2-cm gummy bear across a 3-cm hole).

“Daddy’s not going to like that!” said V.

“Sure he will,” said my mum.

By now the other gummy bears were frantic with excitement.

V got busy. “Mummy, what’s this drink called? Mummy, does LB like it? Does he want to drink it?”

They look so happy in there. That bottle’s been in our cupboard for almost four years, helping no one. Now it’s a party bottle.

Kinda reminds me of this other bottle.