malibu

ASTROLIQUOR for July 12-18—What the stars say you should drink!

My Fellow Inebriates,

Here’s your booze horoscope:

Expect bad news concerning a friend’s health, Aries. This person used to be active but is flat on his/her ass right now. It’s serious, so you should visit soon. You never know how fast these Kubler-Ross stages can go, but try to arrive during “denial” and before “anger.” Hollow out a pineapple and sneak it into your friend’s hospital room along with white rum, spiced rum, amaretto, and pineapple juice. Be a good friend and speak frankly, and if you feel too sad, go ahead and get drunk.

Taurus, do you have a good friend you’ve been ignoring? Don’t get written off as a douchebag—at least write an email explaining how your brain’s been too saturated with Everclear and Bacardi 151 for you to leave the house. But don’t divulge too much—your friend doesn’t need to know about the three-week old vomit patch in the hallway or the reason your cat runs away from you. Just be friendly and vague.

You’re running on empty, Gemini, so kick back with some white rum and lime. Ignore requests to start new projects, update files, or come into work. Filling your head with rum will give you newfound clarity and leave you open to new experiences. Even reeling around the produce aisle could lead you to a new friend or two. It all starts with the rum.

Mind your spending habits, Cancer, or your finances will be good and f#cked. Write down your expenses to gain some insight into your patterns. This will actually blow your mind, as most of the time you have no idea where the money goes. Just think: with a little financial constraint you’ll be able to afford better tequila, and boy will your tummy ever thank you. Not only that—you’ll attract flirtatious interest from some tire-biting neighbor who thinks you must be rich because you have a nice car. Ha!

Leo, this week features strong, troubling feelings that threaten to get the better of you. But you don’t want to bother friends with these feelings. Suppress them with an awesome Molson/Malibu combo. Not only will you triumph over your emotions; you’ll remember nothing, and if you consume enough, your babbling will be too incoherent to reveal any facts. What do you mean you’ve never combined beer and Malibu? Why wouldn’t you? Two parts to one and you’re gold.

Virgos tend to write a lot of complaint letters without expecting a response. This week someone will write back to you—oh joy! But the more carefully you read the response, the more you realize you’ve been given the bum’s rush. Just be glad you got a reply, Virgo. Your original letter was almost unreadable and soaked in spilt tequila. What were you asking for anyway? Oh yeah, more tequila. And triple sec. But why were you asking your pastor?

Libra, you realize this week that it’s time to get a job. Most of your friends have them, so why not? But you don’t feel ready to actually apply for anything. Quite right. You may wish to stop drinking Zombies for a few days so the words on the wanted ads will stop moving and let you read them. But really, who applies for a job in summer?

This is a happy week for you, Scorpio. The last few weeks you’ve spent event-planning have led to satisfaction and serenity—and this calls for a drink:

  • 3 oz Bacardi 151
  • 1 oz creme de cacao
  • 1 oz cream

Shake everything and pour over ice. Ahhhhh! A structured life can be rewarding.

Sagittarius, you’re getting the urge to break the rules. You find any sort of constraint intolerable this week—even traffic rules. Solution? Park your car and ditch work. Make yourself a weird concoction for breakfast. How about blackberry liqueur with amaretto? Alternatively you could stay sober and have an energetic bike ride or an early-morning yoga class. LOL.

Harmony surrounds you this week, Capricorn. Sure, there are workaday stresses and demands, but these make you feel effective and productive. Meanwhile, friendships are ticking along nicely. Basically everything’s great, but you know how Capricorns are. Things can’t be this good, can they?! Better start examining, overanalyzing, sabotaging. Naturally, alcohol can help. I see you starting in a celebratory mode with champagne and taking it downward from there.

Aquarius, start passing out your business cards; this is a great week to meet new people—especially a Leo. Most of the people you already know are afraid of you because of that apple vodka tantrum from a while back. Only new people from outside your usual circles will be unaware of these types of behaviors. How long can you hang onto your new Leo friend without painting him/her with schnapps-scented barf?

Pisces, take the time to make someone happy this week. Don’t worry; you don’t need to spend money—just post some cat pictures on his/her Facebook page or send a friendly text. Don’t telephone, though! It’s pretty hard to talk coherently with a full bottle of bourbon down the hatch. Either that, or make the call before you crack the bourbon. But 6:00am is pretty early.

ASTROLIQUOR for June 29 to July 5—What the stars say you should drink!

My Fellow Inebriates,

Here’s your booze horoscope:

With this weekend comes an urge to cook for friends, Aries. Do your prep sober so you avoid poisoning them (again). Once the table’s spread, anything goes, and you have the choice of a Leo or a Capricorn, both amorously beer-goggled. Make sure their “go” signals are really “go” signals. If you must use questionable judgment, mix two shots banana liqueur and one shot vodka into a glass of Chardonnay. Repeat until you negate the danger of being an annoyance. Sleep it off where no one will trip over you.

Taurus, thanks to memory dropouts you forgot that your April spending would catch up to you by late June. Now you face Canada and/or Independence Day with an empty bar. OMG, what can you sell? Hurry, you must have some heirlooms or a stamp collection. Get them up on Craig’s List so you can buy some Jagermeister, rum, and bourbon. Then do what any patriot would do: shake ’em up together and pour into an ice-filled cocktail glass.

You’ve blown all your renovation money on Southern Comfort, Gemini, but you can still buy a couple of small items to brighten your space. Even a can of touch-up paint would help dress up those drunken dents in the wall. Never mind how difficult it is to get Blue Curacao out of the rug! Be cheerful about the little fix-it purchases. When you’re done you can invite friends for another house-wrecker.

If you take somebody out for lunch, Cancer, it might turn into a liquid lunch. Self-discipline is curiously elusive—these days you’re waking up to a sherry/pernod/vermouth mouthwash, and food just absorbs it, allowing you to drink more. Still, a social meal might rekindle an important friendship, especially on Saturday. Keep an eye on this person; pernod goggles are even more powerful than beer goggles. My girlfriend Dolly says she needs a lot of pernod to “keep me in focus.”

Leo, you’re watching a lot of porn without considering real-life relationships. Try not to conflate the two—no one’s really going to deliver you a pizza in a thong. (Well, you might be wearing a thong.) Dating possibilities include a Gemini, a Sagittarius, and a fellow Leo, none of whom will approach you wearing a thong. Try getting to know them. Don’t just liquor them up with banana and peach schnapps. Give the schnapps to any bears you encounter, especially if they’re wearing thongs.

This is the best week in ages for friendship, Virgo, offering the chance to mend old misunderstandings and get back an old drinking buddy. Ask yourself what the conflict was originally about. Can you even remember? Chances are it was insignificant, although it may have involved nudity. Fact is, you don’t remember. You were hammered at the time on vodka, Kahlua, and Guinness—pounded from a 2L Coke bottle.

Libra, concentration comes with great difficulty this week. Your many personal troubles include a brewing identity crisis that may prompt a domino-like tumble of your values. If you’re a carnivore, you may renounce meat. If you’re a vegetarian, you may get naked and start chowing down on another homeless person’s face. Try getting out more often, and if you do get a meat craving, here’s your drink:

  • 5 oz vodka
  • 6 oz beef bouillon
  • 2 tsp lemon juice
  • Tabasco to taste
  • Worcestershire to taste
  • Celery salt to taste

The stars are happy for you this week, Scorpio. The revolving door keeps delivering funny, entertaining visitors bearing drinks, music, and tasty gossip. Day and night they will regale you, but mind an enigmatic-looking Pisces, possibly wearing black. This person is deep. You’ll have conversations you remember forever—unless you get out of hand with the brandy and creme de cacao.

Sagittarius, you’re still under pressure this week, negotiating heavily at work and in your private financial world. You’re unusually assertive and decisive; security personnel leave you alone at airports, and for a change no one tries to put you in handcuffs. Could it be liquid confidence? Who knows what your blood alcohol level is, but if you’re ever going to attempt 10 amaretto shooters, this is the week.

Until mid-August you can expect a charmed life, Capricorn. Friends flock to you, instinctively recognizing the merriment that follows a happy person. Shake some gin up with Red Bull and pour everyone a round. You’re giving them energy, which means they have to entertain you. Enjoy it for now, because one of them might sue you in August.

Aquarius, take stock of your life this week. Honestly ask yourself: have you lost interest in your goals? Perhaps you’ve changed; maybe you’ve matured. Should you redefine your priorities and take a different path? Or are you just too drunk to be on a path at all? With all that Jack Daniel’s in your system, that might be it. Ask yourself in the morning.

Pisces, if you have any important decisions looming, you might want to wait a  while. The stars are being dickish again, serving up lashings of pessimism until August. The stars are so negative about finances and negotiations for July that they insist you hole up with the biggest supply of Malibu and Crown Royal you can muster. Wait out this bad patch on the bathroom floor, clinging to the toilet to stop the room spinning. When August comes, consider going into politics.

Liquidity support? Support these liquids, Harper

My Fellow Inebriates,

CBC reported today that during the recession Canadian banks received $114 billion in bail-out money.

Prime Minister Stephen Harper using a kitten to elicit your empathy—the way I'll get page views by tagging this post "cute pictures of kittens."

Of course we don’t call it “bail-out money” in Canada. We call it “liquidity support,” and it amounted to $3,400 for every man, woman, and child in Canada. Whereas 436 U.S. banks went under during the recession, liquidity support kept all of Canada’s lending institutions out of the shit, supplying—at times—more than 150% of those institutions’ worth.

Getting to the bottom of these numbers will take more than the efforts of a drunken bear.

Despite applications for full disclosure under the Freedom of Information Act, the Bank of Canada refuses to release its accounting. Details of today’s report came from the U.S. Federal Reserve, which publicly released data on a U.S. program into which Canadian banks had dipped (in addition to taking their Canadian handout)—Canadian banks that ultimately posted combined profits of $27 billion when all was said and done.

Gimme that beer.

Meanwhile, little knowing how far underwater Canadian banks had sunk, we all continued to pay usurious credit card interest, got bilked on monthly “service” charges at institutions where the so-called services had long since been fully automated, saw the removal of services in return for said service charges, endured who knows how many dinner-time insurance sales calls, and—for the privilege of taking out a mortgage with one of these stable lenders—ponied up $20K in insurance money to insure not our risk but the bank’s. Oh yeah.

If the kids asked what a “bank” was we’d say it was a place to save money—a place where your money is safer than it would be under the mattress. Canadians often crow about the safety of their banking, but as it turns out, we pay dearly for that security.

So to you, Stephen Harper, with your selectively socialist impulse, bite me. I want my $3,400 back. I have a bar to stock, and you’ll be getting my shopping list.

Lucky me, I have a conservative MP to whom I can address my concerns.