Archive for 05/01/2009

Spookymeat Horoscopes (good luck)


Dear Aries (March 21 – April 20),
Remember how I told you last month that things would be promising as far as personal relationships go, but only if you worked on finding your inner-self by buying orchid-smelling incense? Yeah well you fucked it up but good this time, buddy. Listen, I won’t even sugarcoat it for you. I could tell you that your two and a half moons aren’t aligned in your favor so you might go through a “rough patch”, but truth be told, you’re a ram, you can take it. Basically a couple stars took a wrong turn at the vernal equinox, probably because you didn’t buy the fucking incense so they couldn’t sniff you. Expect this month to be painful in two ways:

1. Expect at some point you will get that “ohh no” or “aw man” feeling like when you drop your cellphone in a rosebush.

2. You’ll get something stuck in a zipper; but I’m reluctant to tell you what article of clothing and which zipper. Awkwaaard.


Dear Taurus (April 21 – May 21),
Hey. ‘Sup?
“o i c u wnt sum info”
The trouble with being your horoscope is that I know it’s easy to offend you because you always take what I have to say so personally. And it’s annoying. And you hold grudges, ignore what I have to say for a couple months, then you finally come back when you’re down and out. I’m not a whore-o-scope, I won’t be your bitch. But when you come in here all unkempt-looking… I’ll just say it. Shave your beard. You can’t really pull it off and let’s be honest (again). No amount of facial hair is going to cover up that much ugly. I mean not until Jupiter crosses paths with the second house of anti-fug, and that like, never happens.


Dear Gemini (May 22 – June 21),

Ohhh you heartbreaker. I tell you you’re compatible with Libra, and what do you do? You have sex with a Libra and don’t call him for a week. He was probably the first guy you’ve exchanged edible yam sensual oils with that actually gives a damn about you as a person, and can overlook that unsightly mole on your neck. I don’t know how it works down there on Earth but up here, we call it “surgery.” Get it removed.

I know what you’re going to say, already. Ohh he was a Libra-Scorpio bridge. But face it. You’re two-sided, two-faced and too vain. That’s my two cents.


P.S. – love is in the air this month.

Dearest Cancer – (June 22 – July 22)
Your work is getting increasingly sloppy this month and it is only going to get worse if you’re not careful. Maybe you’ll get so tired you’ll start accidentally adding pchews, poinapples, and nip’n’tucks and you won’t even know it because you’ll forget to give it the old’ once over.
I can send you some baby pictures, some of my hair wrapped in a pink silk ribbon, my first blanket, the blood of a virgin, and a shirt.

-love, horoscope

Hey Leo! (July 23 -August 21)
ugh, don’t you just hate yourself? Hint: YOU SHOULD!

Virgo (August 22 – September 23)
The 45th moon of saturn must be collided with a “what the fuck” napkin, causing our minds to intermingle.
love horoscope

Libra (September 24 – October 23)
Fuck this nip’n’tuck bullshit, mercury is in your house of cards right now, and it’s time for twat rot


Sorry Scorpio (October 24 – November 22)
magic 8 ball’s in the shop!


Dear Sagittarius (November 23 – December 22),

Today, your face will be aligned with the moon sort of, I’m not exactly sure. I’m going to say that this means that you have a balance, or maybe it’s division. I don’t know but something to do with feelings and you should just like, try to make sense of it somehow. Or something. I don’t know, maybe switch to a more high-fibre diet. Oh and love is in the air.

*Vanishes into a cloud of smoke*

Capricorn – December 23 – January 20
Can you accept webcams yet, or are you still crotchless? This is the question you should be asking yourself as your house of uncertainty moves into Mercury’s twelfth retrograde cycle of life.

Aquarius – January 21 – February 19
Dear Aquarius,

Whatever you do today, DO NOT read your horoscope… you will be very disappointed.

Pisces (February 20- March 20),
You get along with Cancer, apparently. Somehow when the moons collide in an optical illusion over saturn, you guys get all twitterpated and shit. But it’s fucking cancer. In other words, quit smoking, nimrod. Don’t you hate it when you eating crumbs off your pants and something foreign ends up in your mouth you picked up by accident?

– love horoscope, I guess.

sidenote: the smeat horoscopes are mostly brought to you by guest writer Aaron O., with a bit of Sarah thrown in here and there.