You suffer from automonosis—the tendency to become bored with your own company. If you need to get away from yourself, here's a tip: you don't have to die in order to be reincarnated. People who don't like themselves often find happiness when they become somebody else. Companies that advertise in the backs of magazines are ready to assist in this transformation. If there are compelling personal reasons for not changing your identity, perhaps a trip to a spa for a simple makeover will do the trick.
The book that inspired a website is available from Cedar Tree Books. Written by someone who was actually raised by pugs, Postcards is a welcome addition to any mailbox. Sample chapters:
Tre Cool, Judi Dench, John Malkovich Horoscopes
Dec 9, 2007, 14:54
Today's birthdays (December 9): Drummer Tre Cool of Green Day is 35. Singer-game show host Donny Osmond is 50. Actor John Malkovich is 54. Actor Beau Bridges is 66. Actress Judi Dench is 73. Actor Kirk Douglas is 91. Film director-actor Walt Disney is dead.
Aries (3/21 - 4/19): After a twelve-course Chinese dinner, you switch fortune cookies with the person next to you when she isn't looking. When she opens "her" cookie, she grins happily. Several weeks later you learn that she has won $4 million in the lottery. Meanwhile, the cookie that you opened said, "That wasn't really pork."
Taurus (4/20 - 5/20): You become eligible for the Guinness Book of World Records after you consume a life-size sculpture of Jessica Simpson made entirely of Spam. Your relationship with the sculpture's creator, who spent 120 hours and $19.53 in materials on the project, becomes dicey, however, when she refuses to sign the verification papers.
Gemini (5/21 - 6/21): You are puzzled by a recurring dream involving Rosie O'Donnell, a twenty-five-pound birthday cake made of duck pate and white chocolate mousse, the Jammie Thomas jury, and a ballroom-dancing instructor named Gunther. John Malkovich had the same dream once, and he was on antibiotics for a month.
Cancer (6/22 - 7/22): With the advent of the winter solstice, Mercury is seen sneaking from the house of Venus, while Ben Affleck sneaks into the house of Halston. Meanwhile, the queen of torts rules your love interests, and the 6 of confusion programs your dreams. Defer all unimportant decisions until further notice.
Leo (7/23 - 8/22): You are not the first person to dream you are trapped on an elevator with two guys that have Unabomber labels in their clothing and who fervently believe "the world ain't worth the powder it would take to blow it up." You are, however, the only person to have this dream without being on mood-altering medication.
Virgo (8/23 - 9/22): Toward the end of the current lunar cycle you wake up screaming and can't stop for several hours. Don't worry. You are not having an emotional breakdown. There's a good reason for your hysteria. It wears a "Most Horrifying Home Videos" T-shirt and a mask with a tag on it that reads, "Inspected by inmate #315."
Libra (9/23 - 10/23): When Tre Cool spun the sacred drumstick of wisdom, it stopped on the line between the fire hydrant and the doghouse. The hydrant is the symbol of hedonism. The dog house portends trouble with your reproductive organs. Your next move is critical. If I knew what it was going to be, I'd tell you.
Scorpio (10/24 - 11/21): Although your gemstone, the cow pie, is not so chic as the stones associated with other signs, it has virtues all its own. If your house were built of diamonds, for example, the assessment value would be so high you would probably have to sell off most of the land around your house to pay your school taxes.
Sagittarius (11/22 - 12/21): If the enemy of your enemy is your friend, does that mean your friend's friend is your enemy? Or are you simply being paranoid? Don't make any decisions unless you begin getting calls from a foreign-sounding man who asks to speak to Al Ninyo. Then let your imagination and your feet run wild.
Capricorn (12/22 - 1/19): You are nominated for membership in DENSA, an international support group for people whose IQs are lower than the mean temperature of San Diego in February. Your test scores guarantee your membership when you incorrectly identify the Law of Diminishing Returns as, "Thou shalt not cover thy neighborhood."
Aquarius (1/20 - 2/18): Your life is a closed book. One-size-fits-all clothing doesn't come in your size. A psychic will try to read your palm, but you are ticklish, and she will cast a spell on you because she thinks you're laughing at her mustache. Soon everything you eat will taste like macadamia nuts, the first sign of Don Ho syndrome.
Pisces (2/19 - 3/20): In your quest for tranquility, remember one thing: It looks a lot like amnesia, only brighter and with more texture. Does this mean it has limited fashion applications? Not necessarily, but we certainly wouldn't recommend wearing it on any formal occasions in months without an r.
Amused? Disgusted? Royally pissed off? Click the Twitter link to share with a friend. Go ahead. It's free.
Former Penn State football coach Joe Paterno did not die of a broken heart, as many of his delusional followers are claiming. He died of a guilty conscience. Anybody who says otherwise is a toadying douchebag.
You suffer from automonosis—the tendency to become bored with your own company. If you need to get away from yourself, here's a tip: you don't have to die in order to be reincarnated. People who don't like themselves often find happiness when they become somebody else. Companies that advertise in the backs of magazines are ready to assist in this transformation. If there are compelling personal reasons for not changing your identity, perhaps a trip to a spa for a simple makeover will do the trick.
Meaner than a powdery, old-hag English teacher, The Grammar Prick will split your head if you split an infinitive.
The book that inspired a website is available from Cedar Tree Books. Written by someone who was actually raised by pugs, Postcards is a welcome addition to any mailbox. Sample chapters:
Strike a blow for freedom.
