My Fellow Inebriates,
Your booze horoscope is going all to hell, the way I can’t manage to round up a typist, week after week. And here you are, making all sorts of decisions without astrological guidance, which makes me feel like an absolute bastard. Even if you are getting along fine without it (are you? omg, don’t tell me, it got me out of bed today)…here it is:
Aries, do not listen to any Journey songs this week, especially the ballads. They’ll get you down and make you feel lonely, plus the neighbors won’t appreciate the sound of you moaning out the window like a sick Steve Perry. They’ll suspect you’re constipated and peer inside, only to get an eyeful of you lurching around in filthy underwear sporting stains of Kahlua, Bailey’s, Cointreau, and who knows what.
Taurus, you’ll get a letter from the bank this week increasing your credit limit—and you didn’t even have to ask! How lucky is that? Now you can take an online course (what about currency trading?), expand your tequila collection, or visit some betting sites and leverage that illusory new windfall. But don’t compromise your principles! Don’t sell out to anyone! Every shooter you drink this week should have a gummy worm in it.
Gemini, when you receive unexpected praise from someone, you find yourself liking that person a whole lot more than is warranted and, more importantly, letting down your guard. Beware! Find a Scorpio you trust and go for a long walk. Explain everything and then wait for your Scorpio friend to serve you up some harsh truth about those insincere compliments and the douchebag who delivered them so blithely. The truth will hurt, and you’ll want vodka. Mix it with amaretto and Kahlua so you look like a connoisseur, not an alcoholic.
Cancer, you might experience a psychotic break this week. In retrospect you’ll realize it was all your fault (well, you and bourbon). In the aftermath your mind will go off on all sorts of tangents. One particular obsession will be the future (1000+ years); you foresee being able to manipulate lottery numbers and make yourself rich, but only if you can cryogenically freeze your head, which sounds like a chicken-and-egg problem. Spend your money on gin instead.
Leo, all kinds of things happen when you combine Jagermeister with Mountain Dew, but earning more money is not one of them. Take steps to create an income source. The lottery might win you a few bucks, but it won’t supply a comprehensive answer. Nope—you might have to actually work. Start networking; even if it doesn’t make the cash pour in, you’ll meet someone, and by August you’ll have seen their underwear.
As a Virgo you’re good at playing your cards close to your chest. Most of your most weirdo secrets will stay with you until you die, but don’t let secrecy get in the way of relationships. You’ll meet a “friend for life” this week (Leo or Taurus), so try and open up a bit. This will help:
- 3 oz rum
- 1 oz sloe gin
- 1 oz Southern Comfort
- 1 oz peach schnapps
- Orange juice to taste (I’m having “none”)
Libra, give your brain a rest this week; it’s getting confused. Try not to multi-task—let’s face it, your resumé may say you can do it but you can’t pee and wipe your nose at the same time without an accident. Plan a holiday (carefully! make a list) or at least stock up on limoncello and vodka and have a mental holiday. Ahhhh!
Mars is exerting some apeshit influence on your chart, Scorpio. Try not to throw a punch at relatives or colleagues this week, and be nice to that friend who needs your advice. It concerns embarrassing personal stuff (the stars say money problems, or maybe something to do with genitals), and if you react kindly, you’ll bank some good karma. In other news, you have an undeterrable stalker (it’s a Cancer—don’t give this person any vodka).
Sagittarius, electronics will give you grief this week. Read the manual(s) before beating the shit out of your computer or toaster oven. Your dishwasher will fail several times to get a dried noodle off one of your pots. The stars have no solution for this, although they recommend Gordon’s gin (for you, not the Jet Dry compartment). Tuesday and Thursday are good for love and nudity.
Somebody’s gotta do it, Capricorn, and this week you are the designated driver. You’ll spend many evenings watching drunken friends get extraordinary amusement out of stupid board games, stupid movies, and yes—barfing in your car. If this sounds thankless, the stars apologize. You don’t have to listen to them; they are just balls of gas. They have no idea what Stoli vomit does to upholstery.
Aquarius, someone who’s gone unnoticed until recently becomes a hot-and-heavy love interest. Be careful! This person is a freak. Don’t mistake eroticism for ice-cold insanity; the stars are worried you could end up getting shivved with a broken bottle. Ease up on the vodka and keep your wits about you.
Pisces, you’re out of work again and you feel sorry for yourself. But your friends are jealous…spring is here and you’re free. Wake up whatever-the-hell-o’clock appeals to you, get the coffee going, and spike it up with Bacardi 151 and Kahlua. Have a few mugs and then phone your old boss.
SHOT IN THE DARK, while a stupid name suggesting half-assed viticultural efforts, nevertheless skirted all these other red flags, plus it came festooned with a row of awards, which ultimately propelled it into our shopping basket. Three-quarters Cabernet and one-quarter Shiraz, it benefits from decanting somewhat, although it ceases to develop new flavors after 15 minutes or so, at which point you probably want to pound it. Predominant aromas are sweet berries and a cloying grapey simplicity that is, in fairness, free of any chook or other barnyard shenanigans. Reasonably pleasant on the nose, it’s slightly more assertive on the palate, introducing herbs, oak, and eucalyptus. The mouthfeel is less dense than I’d have expected with this blend, coming off middling rather than dense. The finish is a bit forgettable.
Liquorstore Bear 