September Whorescopes: We All Know Where You've Been...Find Out Where You're Going!

by Angela Lovell

VIRGOin' Crazy!

You don't need a boob or nose job for your birthday present to self. You're just second-guessing what 4 out of 5 exes already hail as "the best lay of my life." I know it feels like nobody gets you, but there are plenty of people who adore you without the getting-you part. Learn how to take a compliment without getting out of bed and pulling your clothes on. Not that you've shared your bed much the past three months, but there wasn't much room with all that frayed cocoon everywhere. (And when did you stop cleaning so much?) Since your last birthday you've been worked over enough for three lifetimes. Don't say you laugh less. Say you think more. Don't let those thoughts wander to compensation for that third nipple or webbed toes with plastic surgery or tattoos. You're PERFECT! I'll scream it from the rooftops so you have to take my compliment - I LOVE YOU, VIRGO! YOU'RE PERFECT! Perfectly moody, perfectly sarcastic, perfectly slipping into stand-up comic mode, and inhabiting a PERFECT candy-coated shell! Don't commit to anything right now that'll change your body forever. You're already too close to being COMMITTED to the loony bin.

Sunny Days Sweepin THE SCALES Away!

We all know Muppets aren't living creatures, but if Oscar the Grouch had crawled out of a green, furry vagina, he would have done so between September and October. Though I proclaim this least-pleasant resident of Sesame Street a Libra, it is not an insult to you, sweet Asshole of The Zodiac—just an observation. Oscar may be a bitch, but he always tells it like it is and gets stuff done his way. What I need you to ponder now, dear Libra, is that if Oscar the Grouch finds happiness without a house, the latest video game system, and lacking pink satin shoes, you can too. It'd be refreshing to catch you picking through the trash instead of buying new sheets because the six-month-old ones made you feel dirty. But if I catch you talking to worms I'll have Mr. Hooper cut you off.

The SCORPIO Cometh

It's a common misconception that just because Scorpio is the sexiest sign of the zodiac they are also sex addicts. I know a lot of sluts, but most of my Scorpio friends can count their sexual partners on just two hands (oh, how sweet it is to make that cut!) Though sexually motivated, it's the idea more than the act fueling your subtly revving engine. You're so lava-hot that not only can you melt crayons with your ass, but ice queens turn to quivering pools in your company. Quit ruining Crayola with your powers and find a good secret-keeper to nickname "Puddles" for these last few days of summer. But leave the AC on HIGH, at least in the bedroom—you don't wanna burn the house down!


We were all shocked by how good Mr. and Mrs. Smith turned out to be (starring Sagittarius Extraordinaire, Brad Pitt.) I think it's safe to say that no sign felt this movie to its core more than you, Archer. After all of your loudmouth predictions about this film winning over audiences with gratuitous sex alone, you were shocked to see it quite lacking in the pounding and more fueled by old-fashioned chemistry. Dearest Wham-Bam-Thank-You-Ma'am of the zodiac, you've changed. You probably didn't see it (until the morning after that drunk email to a disregarded ex) but your independence is at last getting in the way of something you want instead of propelling you towards it. Keep that guard down, forget your own needs a little, and I promise there will be more happily sexless surprises ahead. Wow, that is a surprise! But have you noticed how sleeping alone has lost its appeal?

I'd Love to Get You On a Slow GOAT to China...

Dahling Capricorn, somebody slipped you something. This time it was NOT a roofie to knock you out, improving that party you were trying to control. My guess is you were slipped some Humble Pie. Your recent kindness makes even me—usually untrusting of Crapicorn—wanna sit next to you on a crowded bus. Just beware of Asian albino dwarves. Their hibernation season is up and they're out and about, bussing all over town. They don't see so well but your recent glow is attracting them like little moths to a flame.

Our AQUARIUS Is a Very Fine House

You've adopted an interesting style. You get a little fatter and happily say it went to your chest. Your friend rejects the guy who'd been on her all night and you gladly take him home, claiming he was just trying to get to you. You say, "I'm too picky to be a slut!" the day your Morning After Pill kicks in. Denial ain't just a river in Egypt, silly Water Bearer! Quit eating rebound tablescraps and whatever was caught in the drain. It's GROSS. (And it's making you fat.) I like you, Aquarius, but lately you're skibbing me out. You once wanted to be a reality TV star, shooting for American Idol or The Next Top Model. Watch yourself or you're gonna end up on Jerry Springer dodging swinging chairs.

I Scream, You Scream, We All Scream For PISCES

You know dairy is the antichrist, but maybe that's why you've been indulging. Pisces looooves all naughty acts, rationalizing cigarette smoking with, "At least I don't eat pork!" But I have to tell you because I'm your REAL friend—you look stupid. No, not for your impeccably slopped on I-Don't-Even-Have-to-Try-to-Look-This-Good style, but for the silly discrepancies you keep trying to convince admirers of. Instead of being a walking contradiction, why don't you put some loose change in your pants and emulate the ice cream truck. They'll come running for miles ... if you keep your mouth shut.

Only ARIES Can Prevent Forrest Fires

Each time I run into one of you Rams I can't keep my hands to myself. I imagine much Emo music is inspired by Aries boys and girls, burning through love affairs like brush fire. Smokey the Bear put a hit on you, and not for burnt forest, but for broken hearts. (Leave it to Aries to win the love of a shirtless, reclusive park ranger.) Don't waste time being vague, strut up to whatever lucky earth, water or air sign you want to reheat, grab their face and say, "I want you now!" (But leave out the part where you DON'T want them later.) I'd tell you to put it in love letter form, but your spelling is atrocious. And if a scorned ex tries burning that combustible letter they might wipe out half of their state.

BULLies Beware

Chatty Cathy loves to call a huddle around the office watercooler and sling shit at you like a monkey at the zoo, but lemme tell you something Taurus ... bitch is jealous. I'd say she's green with envy, but let's call her "fat and unimaginative" with it instead. You've worked hard to build this life and it's quite impressive. At the same time, you have to understand that your perfect little world makes theirs look like a Deep South hovel, complete with toilet in the front yard and a dozen worm-infested cats. They're slappin' margarine on hotdog buns and calling it "garlic bread" while you're eating breakfast in bed that somebody else made. Don't be too hard on these peons, Taurus. They hate themselves more than you ever could.

When GEMINIS Collide

Recently I was on a Jersey train, hoochies in mucho makeup and latest trends to my left, punk rockers in piercings to my right. Sitting between these extremes I at long last understood the constant struggle of the Gemini. Outwardly, you're mellow, but inside it's a constant battle of truth and lies, good and EVIL. My commuting Tubetops and Mohawks remained peaceful, pretending the other wasn't even there, but you, my I-wipe-my-butt-just-so-I-can-look-at-it friends, are in turmoil. Go with the truth. Sometimes it's pretty and reeking of Victoria's Secret fruitiness. Sometimes it's scabby-kneed and hungover in a Misfits t-shirt. But one thing about Geminis is that you always maintain a clear distinction of right from wrong. Do the right thing. Whether it makes you feel like Justin Timberlake or Sid Vicious, you'll feel like a rockstar.

Your Favorite Show Has Been CANCERed

You were feeling a little overrun and boring lately, like a faded WELCOME mat everyone wiped their feet on. But you're adorable and you give the BEST head of the zodiac! The BEST, Cancer! Even you frigid "virgin" Cancers possess this gift whether you use it or not. Your past lack o' lovin' doesn't come from sitting on the sidelines or in front of the TV, but rather from giving too much to the wrong people. Quit following your drunk roommate around that party and pay attention to all those admirers of your pouty lips! Sure, it's scary when a hunky black man wants to sneak off and examine your roommate's plumbing, but don't worry about her—many people go black and come back! Time to get back in the game yourself. You can start out by playing "Civil War Nurse. " Get on your knees and send some lucky soldiers to heaven FO REAL.

True Blue, LEO, I Love You

World's most famous Leo, Madonna fell off a horse on her birthday, no less, and broke a bunch of bones. Mo is trying to play it cool, laughing it up, pretending to be unfazed that her body just told the world, "I'm getting old." You need to take a break from referring to stuff as "my lucky color" or "my lucky earrings." You ain't got NO luck right now and you look silly informing your date, "I wore my lucky shoes," just before a piano falls from the sky landing on your luckless ass. (Oh, and keep an eye out for falling pianos!)


© 2005 Angela Lovell, All Rights Reserved.


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