TAURUS (April 20-May 20): The annual Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest invites good writers to compete in creating awful prose. This year Rephah Berg won with this passage: “Angela perceived that her relationship with Tom had always been rocky, not quite a roller-coaster ride but more like when the toilet-paper roll gets squashed so it hangs crooked and every time you pull some off you can hear the rest going bumpity-bumpity in its holder until you go nuts and push it back into shape, a degree of annoyance that Angela had now almost attained.” I hold this up as an example, Taurus, of how you might go about performing a goofy desecration of the thing you do best or love most. And what’s the value in that? If you approach it with a tender intention to take yourself less seriously, you’ll awaken dormant power in the thing you do best or love most.

I need to fill out a FAFSA and email Dr. Wolfe again. *SIGH*
I need to talk to CoreComm HR about my old 401K stuff.
I need to let the desire for companionship and physical closeness pass around me like a breeze, not slam into me like a Mack truck.

“Well, look at these morose motherfuckers right here. Baaaahhhhng!”