Give your husband a rest

THE HOROSCOPES

The Horoscopes started off as a one-time deal, but were so popular we put them in every issue. As you can imagine, having to come up with twelve new catastrophic predictions every week took its toll, so eventually I settled on 25 pages of stock horoscopes and just moved them around week after week.

Give your husband a rest. You've been griping about that garage for two weeks now. If you don't like it, clean it yourself. Or get that guy down the street who watches you sunbathe every morning to come up and do it, but be prepared for a wild time.

You were right all along. Someone IS following you and they have a gun.

That tree in your back yard is finally going to fall. It'll probably land on one of the neighbor's kids, too, and he'll sue you for every nickel you'll ever hope to have.

The blonde fox next door will ask you over while her husband is gone. Go for it. And then get out of town because rumor has it he's killed before.

Don't believe everything you hear. There's no reason he would want you dead. Except for the insurance.

The wife will be working late again. Spy on her.

You've tried to do things legally, but it doesn't seem to be working. Take the gas or join the police force . . . it's the only way you'll ever get by.

Somebody goofed. The letter to Ann Landers about your husband's affair will be printed with your name and address on it.

Don't let that guy in the BMW fool you. He's just as broke as you are and he spends every nickel he makes on that car. So does the guy in the Mercedes.

It doesn't make any difference how careful you were. Someone saw you do it and if you make them mad, they'll sing like a canary.

You must have been crazy to buy a gas Weed Eater. Only a maniac can start one on the first pull and you've got to mix the gas with green oil. Stick to electric ones.

A great deal of money awaits you tomorrow but remember to get rid of the mask and throw the gun into Old Hickory Lake.

Your girlfriend is going through your pockets while you're asleep. Keep that in mind next time she pitches a fit because you can't afford to take her out to dinner.

Some people out there think you're a wonderful person. Everyone else things you're a moron.

Next time your husband tells you that you don't know what you're talking about, slap him in the chops. Then ask for the house, the kids, and a million dollars a month in child support.

If you think Kitty Kelley did a hatchet job on Nancy Reagan, you should hear what your neighbors say about you.

The guys at the Post Office read your mail. Then they laugh and make faces and roll around on the floor until the supervisor makes them go back to work.

One more good storm and the roof will need replacing. Not just around the chimney, either; the whole house. And the garage. And the dog house. And now the kids are crying because you can't afford to buy anymore Ninja Turtles so they hate you and they won't believe another word you say until they're 30.

You know that little rip in the shade of your bedroom window? You were right all along. Some one is looking at you every Saturday night around eleven. And we all think you dance divinely.

That punk you made your daughter break up with has written your phone number on every stall in the boy's room at Lebanon High School.

Parting your hair right above your ear and combing it way over like that is about as good as wearing an "I Am Bald" sign.

You knew before you left the house this morning that the girls would recognize that dress as the same one you wore Friday. Face it, your husband is cheap.

Right after you walked out of the office, the secretary thought your butt was a wide as a good-sized house trailer. Then she called her brother in Iowa and talked for fifty minutes on the office phone.

That girl you've been seeing lied about her age. She's not 26. She's not even 21. What she is is 17 and about to ruin your life. If you're smart, you'll bribe her and date her mother.

Your County Commissioner forgot your name the minute he hung up the phone. He also forgot what you told him you wanted him to look into. Then he forgot his name, address, and birthday.

Try and be optimistic about the next few months and maybe things will go better. Try as hard as you can. Try until you're blue in the face, because no matter how hard you try, it'll never get any better than it is right now and right now, it's terrible.

It's too bad they stopped putting the skull and crossbones on poison bottles. If they hadn't, you wouldn't have drunk that stuff you thought was for heartburn that is actually killing you right now.

The keys you lost are in that field next to the Ward Agriculture Center. Send $5 for a detailed map. If I don't hear from you by Friday, the keys die.

Your kids are telling the neighbors everything you do on Sunday when you're supposed to be at church. They sneak back into the house and listen at the bedroom door. And that thing with the warm baby oil is really sick. Knock it off.

The magazines you've kept in the bottom drawer of that bureau in the attic are no longer arranged in the order you put them in. And soon, Junior will be seeking answers to a lot of very strange questions.

Two people know the pressure treated lumber you used to build your deck wasn't really pressure treated at all. One of them is the guy at the lumberyard and the other one is the King of the Termites.

Tonight when you go into the bathroom, the last bulb in that two-bulb fixture is going to blow. And you don't have a spare anywhere in the house, so you'll have to take one out of the kitchen.

If you keep driving to Kentucky to play the lottery, one of these days, you'll have a terrible traffic accident and die. They'll find the winning ticket on your body, give it to your wife, and she'll spend the money on a face-lift, a tummy tuck, and a young guy named Cliff.

There's nothing wrong with your heat pump. There's nothing wrong with your air conditioner. There's nothing wrong with your insulation. It's just Middle Tennessee Electric having some fun.

Your son made a copy of the car keys last weekend and he's planning a trip to California right before school starts.

Everyone who comes into your home sees those filthy cobwebs in the corners of all the rooms. Get a broom.

Those aren't really obscene phone calls you're getting. It's your Uncle Jim and his phone is on the blink.

Deep down, you think you could do as good a job at writing horoscopes as the guy who does it now. Apply for the position because, frankly, he's damned tired of it.

Don't worry. You and about a zillion other people had someone else write their term papers for them in high school. You're out now, anyway. They can't take the diploma back.

Your meter reader is drunk out of his mind. When he comes to your house, he writes down the license plate number of your car in his billing book.

You should take up smoking this week. At your last physical, the doctor forgot to tell you that you're low on tar.

The reason you got such a good deal on your house is because Charles Manson used to live there. Look under the rug in the living room and keep what you find to yourself. No sense in upsetting the kids.

Don't complain because you never have a good time. Next time you go out, call the baby sitter, disguise your voice, and tell her you're an escaped lunatic with metal feet. When you get home, tie two crushed Coke cans to your shoes and stomp around on the front porch screaming, "I need blood!"

Junior stuck a slice of Kraft Processed cheese in the disk drive of your new computer. Then he had a couple of swigs of that expensive brandy he thought was orange juice. Then he shaved the cat.

All those depressing thoughts you had last New Year's Eve about how your life is shot and you're no good and you could have been somebody if you'd just tried were absolutely correct.

Each morning, after your little angel gets to school, she puts six earrings in each ear, paints black circles on her eyes, hikes her skirt up to her butt, jumps out the window, and spends the rest of the day on a motorcycle with a guy named "Lips."

When you go to see your grandmother this week, she'll fix you a glass of tea. You'll have to drink it, but keep in mind that old people put their teeth in glasses and you can never be sure exactly which glass they use.

You need to lighten up. Just because it's too hot outside is no reason to shoot holes in the car across the street.

Immediately after you take the lawnmower apart to check the carburetor, your wife will look in the gas tank and discover the reason it won't start. Bluff her with some lie about it "running rough."

Your husband makes jokes at work about how you look naked. That's the reason all the guys chuckle when you bring him his lunch.

That turkey salad you ate for lunch had been out on the table in the sun for six hours. You should have noticed your wife didn't eat any. Get the Maalox.

Today is the first day of the rest of your life. You poor, pitiful fool.

There's a good possibility that the fan you're using is really cutting down on your cooling bill. But the kid's going to stick his finger in it soon and the hospital bill will be around $600.

I know you think you're an excellent driver, but the way you putter around town drives me and about ten thousand other people right up the wall. If you want to go sightseeing, take a bus.

Every player on the other team in your church softball league heard what you said about their pitcher. They told your preacher and he'll be over Sunday evening to mooch a free dinner and talk to you about your language.

It was extremely generous of you to give Junior that $10 bill to see "Beauty and the Beast." He spent $6.50 on "Debbie Does Dallas" and gave the rest to a guy with a knife for two beers and a Slim Jim.

If you stick one more device into that conglomeration of plugs you're got behind the entertainment center, the whole house is going to blow.

Your secretary has been making pictures of her butt on the copy machine. Next time she does it, she'll fall through and you'll have to pick up the doctor's tab. You'll also have to buy another copy machine.

That bottled water you're been buying comes from a tap in Norene. Some guy named Slappy takes the labels off plastic Coke bottles and charges you 60 cents for his trouble. Sometimes, he spits in the bottles.

You've always said you wanted your kids to have a better education than you had. Now they do and they think you're a real moron. Start stealing gas money from the ungrateful little swine.

Next time you're shopping at the grocery store, a guy in a blue Chevy pick-up will back into your car, smash in the whole right side, and leave without waiting for you. Your insurance agent will tell you it was an "Act of God" and refuse to pay the body shop. Then he'll take a sip of coffee from his U.T. mug and look at all the U.T. posters in his office.

Because of a mix-up between South Central Bell and the Home Shopping Network, you're going to receive six thousand calls on Friday from people who want to order an electric wok. Have them send the checks to you at a post office box. No sense in giving away a good thing.

You know the guy you heard the secretaries talking about last week? The guy who was "really nice, but he's so old?" That was you.

Beware on Saturday. First, your car won't start. Then, you'll step in a pile of dog crap from that collie across the street. Next, you'll trip over the kid's skateboard and end up picking gravel out of your face for an hour. To top it off, your wife will tell you that her mother is on the way over. This could be it.

A very strange person will introduce himself to you on Sunday. He'll reach out to shake your hand, spit into your left eye, and begin screaming "Anti-Christ! Anti-Christ!" Throw a twenty into the collection plate and hightail it for the car.

You're losing your figure. You're getting a bit too much poundage on the derriere. Those "character lines" around your eyes are wrinkles. A face life won't help, a tummy tuck won't help. But that kid who takes your groceries to the car on Wednesday morning might . . . for a good tip.

You've been leaving the clothes in the washing machine too long after the spin cycle. They've soured. You might have thought it was your breath, but it's really the stench you're T-shirts are giving off.

When you die, your kids are going to auction off every single thing you've spent your life getting. They think it's all garbage. They're going to take the money they make and blow it on the Oral

Roberts mission.

Your watch will stop at exactly 12:04 a.m. Thursday evening. The reason it'll stop is because your wife is going to throw it into the Cuisinart to get even with you for burning a hole in her end table with your cigar.

While you and Junior are spending some quality time together fishing next Saturday, one of those speed boats full of drunken yahoos will come around the corner doing 120 and sink you. Junior will be wearing his life vest but yours will be ground to pulp by the propeller. Since you can't swim, Junior will have to tow you to shore. And he'll never look at you the same way again.

Okay, one last time: Never grab an electrical cord when your feet are wet, don't play golf in a thunderstorm, never try to race a train to a railroad crossing, and for God's sake, wipe that ketchup off your chin.

The doctor is getting wise to you. Nobody "accidentally" drops their Valium in the toilet more than twice. Either lay off the coffee or make the kids stay outside until midnight.

You're been right all along. The reason your youngest son is a maniac is that he was switched at birth by a nurse with really bad eyes. Try and let him down easily. Move to another city and don't leave a forwarding address. But stay away from here. We've got enough problems.

Things are looking up for you. Tomorrow, the car will start without a hitch. Traffic will be very light and you'll make it to the office in record time. The weather will be extremely pleasant and you'll break par for the first time in your life while playing an afternoon round of gold with the guys at work. Then, you'll go home, fall in the shower, and fracture your collarbone. Learn to take the good with the bad.

While you're out having a good time on Saturday night, Junior will be calling Paris, France trying to reach Janet Jackson on her world tour. He has a list of things he wants to tell her, but he's going to end up talking to a maid for four hours.

For a while, me and about a hundred other guys thought it was great that you'd started walking every night around the neighborhood. We thought that in a couple of weeks, you'd start to look pretty good. Well, we were wrong. You haven't lost an ounce in two months. I lost five bucks betting with Charlie that you had good legs.

After all this time, you should have gotten wise to the fact that you're the company fool. They send you out of the room every time a decision has to be made, they make you eat lunch alone, and they keep telling you they have plans on Saturday night. Take up drinking. You'll still be a fool, but when you fall down, they'll pat you on the back and act concerned.

Yeah, you were pretty impressed when you walked into his house and saw all those volumes on the bookshelf. Wake up. He's never read one of them. As a matter of fact, he can barely read. He bought them to impress chicks and you bought it. Dump him quick before he brings up the "I really respect you" thing.

The central unit is going out this week. It'll cost you around $2500 to have it fixed. You'll get to use it for another month or so and then it'll be turning colder. And around November, the heat banks will crash.

Your favorite pair of shoes smell like dead animals. You don't notice it because your nose has become numb, but everybody in the house and everybody at the office thinks you haven't had a bath since the first Space Shuttle launch. Toss them in Old Hickory Lake. People will like you and the lake will smell better.

The mechanics put the wrong oil filter on your truck today when you had it serviced. It'll be okay for a couple hundred miles, but then the engine will get really hot and lock up. When it's towed in for a new motor, nobody will say a thing about the oil filter. They'll just hand you the estimate and tell you not to rev the engine before you shut it off.

Seven years ago you met a woman in Nashville at "Friday's." You're going to get a letter from her on Saturday telling you that your "old relationship" needs a check in the amount of $590 for Kindergarten and a new mountain bike.

Time to trade in that old lemon. When you drive up on the car lot, the salesman will become your best friend and will instantly start calling you "buddy." He's got a "like-new" trade-in right over there with your name on it. Since you're now pals, you trust him and before you know it, you'll be driving off in somebody else's trouble.

That little cutie at the grocery store has a father who looks like Hulk Hogan. He's only about seven years older than you are and he is very, very protective of his daughter. By the way, he's done hard time and he thinks you're handsome.

You've been waiting all year long for them to show a re-run of that mini-series "Lonesome Dove" on television. The problem is that you've got too much to do tonight to watch it and the VCR's on the blink. Just write the damned horoscopes and forget it. They'll show it again when you're 90.

The exterminators are all set to do your house on Thursday. They've got a bottle of vodka in the truck and their sprayers are filled with water. When they finish, there'll be termites laughing and doing the backstroke under your house, but you won't know the little bastards are still alive until your floor caves in.

Don't try it. All these years, you're done pretty well with "What's your sign?" and "I know I've met you somewhere before, have you ever been to Club Med?" Stick with those. While "I'm disease-free" is original, it's not really a very good line and will most likely get you punched out.

Great weekend, wasn't it? Maybe next time you'll listen to your husband. When he tells you the gas pedal sticks, believe him. If you'd listened, you wouldn't have broken the land speed record on the interstate and those people in the Hyundai wouldn't have had to get their car fumigated.

You pay too much attention to television shows. Just because he increased your life insurance to a million dollars, tossed your hair dryer into the tub with you, got you drunk before you had to drive to Atlanta, and then the brakes failed and the guy at the garage said the line, was cut, it doesn't mean anything.

You've been watching that bookshelf for six years now and telling yourself that one day, if you don't fix it, it's going to fall. Well, on Sunday, it will. And it's going to take the stereo down with it.

Junior is going to drive you right to the edge this week. But you can't blame him for it. He was trying to be a good kid. He knew you were too tired to make dinner. You should have told him to take the beef stew out of the can before he put it in the microwave.

You might as well develop a good sense of humor and learn to laugh because no matter how hard you try, or what you do, it's not going to get any better than it is right now and right now, it's horrendous.

You finally thought you'd learned a lesson. For three years, you've been going through cheap telephones like a buzzsaw. So, on Thursday, you've going to drop $100 on a speaker phone with a 20 number memory, re-dial, hold, and mute buttons. When your mother calls Friday, try the speaker. She won't hear anything you say and you'll end up using the old phone in the den.

There are few people on the face of the earth who envy you. As a matter of fact, the last one was your Uncle Bill and a safe's going to fall on him next Thursday.

Nutrasweet is a hoax. That's the reason you're not losing any weight. Next time you've got nothing to do, weigh a glass of Diet Coke and a glass of Coke Classic. They weigh exactly the same.

See?

The reason you shoes squeak is because Junior's been using them to pound nails in his treehouse. He tried to use your nine iron, but it kept slipping out of his hand.

Your drinking is really getting out of control. It's gone so far that the Sterno people are considering following you to the gym, collecting your sweat, and selling it to campers for their stoves. And that's disgusting.

If you crack wise to that babe in the office one more time, her husband is going to come down there are drop you like a bad habit.

Grecian Formula 49 will take care of that gray. A face-lift can get rid of those wrinkles around your eyes. But you should really join the Hair Club for Men because I'm not only the president; I'm also a client.

Forget about her. Any chick who wears more than five earrings is nothing but trouble, anyway.

While you're at work tomorrow, the icemaker on the refrigerator will go berserk and fill the kitchen with ice cubes. Then the water dispenser will go on all by itself. When you get home, you'll weep like a child.

You should probably be a little more careful when you go out on the town every Wednesday. For instance, that little cutie you picked up at the Turtle last week has a wing named after her at the Free Clinic.

You've been paying too much attention to your horoscope lately. While most astrologers check the stars, the alignment of the planets, or tea leaves, the guy who writes these horoscopes checks the alignment of the bourbon stains on his shirt.

You know how all motels have their address on the key so you can mail it back if you forget and take it with you? Well, the girl who had your room last didn't mail it back; she kept it. Her name is

Susan Atkins. You probably remember her from "Helter Skelter." Anyway, she's passing through town again and needs a place to stay.

You've finally made it. You went out and bought yourself a thousand dollar Rolex watch and you're flashing it around like it was made for you. The problem is that everybody and his brother has a fake Rolex that looks just like yours, so everybody and his brother thinks yours is a fake, too.

That plane you're scheduled to fly to Atlanta on has been in the shop more than a '62 Chevy. And it's had just about the same servicing done on it; they changed the oil, rotated the tires, and tightened the muffler. The wings could fall off at any minute, but it purrs like a kitten.

It'll never work. There's no way you can convince the people from the Foreign Exchange Student place to send you a nineteen year old Swedish girl for the school year. Go back to work and stop dreaming. You pervert.

Right now, on Highway 109, there's a two foot piece of plywood with seven nails sticking out of it and it's just waiting for you to drive by on those brand new Michelin radials you're so proud of.

There are about fifteen billion people in the world today who make less money than you do. Now, don't you think it's about time you went out and bought that gun you've been looking at? You'd better. I've sent your address to each and every one of them.

It's just about time for that cold to hit you and this year, it'll be a doozy. You won't take any precautions like eating right or getting enough rest so, when it hits, don't blame me. I've done my best. And don't come near me, either.

There's very little in the stars for you this week. But that's okay because there's also very little for you in the bank, the refrigerator, or the bedroom. And it just keeps getting worse.

You have my sympathy. That bottle of bleach you bought at the grocery store has a tiny hole in the bottom and when you get home, the back seat of your Acura Legend won't be blue anymore. That's what you get for buying one of those over-priced pieces of junk.

You eat like a pig. Close your mouth when you chew and stop using you fingers to pick up creamed corn. This is American. Act civilized. Get some manners. Or we'll kill you.

You'll be thinking about marriage this week. Think about it long and hard and take a good look around. Then, if you're still thinking about it, throw yourself off a bridge because only a fool would give up his freedom for a woman who's going to gain between 5 and 7 pounds a year for the next 30 years.

Sunday, your watch is going to stop and you'll miss the game. But that's not the worst part. The worst part is that when you take the back off to replace the battery, a little spring costing around 90 bucks is going to fly into the carpet and be sucked up into the Kirby.

Congratulations. Sunday was a real productive day. You got up around ten, watched both network games, switched to the cable game, drank two six packs, and went to bed. Keep this up and you'll be dead by the time you're 40.

If you had any guts, you'd punch your boss right in the kisser. Then he'd fire you and you'd lose your car and your house and the wife would leave, so, actually, it's a pretty good thing you're a coward.

You may not be the brightest person on the face of the earth, but you're at least ten times smarter than anybody on the Wilson County Commission. So cheer up. And take your finger out of your nose.

Junior has the hots for the little girl down the street and he's been watching a lot of prime-time television this season. Don't be surprised when your condom supply dwindles rapidly. And don't be angry, either, because he's only using them to make slingshots.

Get off his back, lady. The garage has look like that for the past two years and he's not going to clean it. If you don't like the way it looks, clean it yourself, but back off. He's been pushed to the edge this time.

Next time you take your car is for a tune-up, the mechanics will use it to got to Captain D's for lunch. You'll discover this when the smell of rotting fish becomes too much and you look under the back seat.

There are a thousand stories in the Naked City and yours is just about to make the 6 o'clock news. And it'll make the private life of Hugh Hefner look like Sister Teresa's.

If your smart enough to figure the interest on your municipal bonds and the fiduciary trust you set up this year, then how come you're not smart enough to figure a way to get that babe across the street to come over for a drink?

Several of your neighbors have written to this horoscope editor to ask that I put a curse on you. Sorry, can't do it. Your wife is going to catch you with the cleaning girl, but I, personally, had nothing to do with it.

If your husband happens to be a Capricorn, be on the lookout for him and the cleaning girl this week. And it shouldn't bee too tough, either, because he's too cheap to spring for a motel room and he won't go to her house because her brother is a wrestler. You'll find them in the guest bedroom. And I didn't have anything to do with it.

There's no need for you to waste your time trying to get junior a hardship driver's license just so you don't have to drive him to school. No matter how hard you try, they won't give a nine-year old a license. Even in this county.

There's a rumor floating around that you're going to run for the Lebanon City Council. Go for it. Hell, you've got all the qualifications. After all, you're a lawyer, you can cut glass to fit a window, you used to work for the phone company, you used to be a deejay, you've sold a few cars, and you're a woman. Just one of those is enough. Apparently.

You thought you were being a Good Samaritan when your neighbor's phone went belly up didn't you? Well, just wait until the bill comes in and your wife has you explaining all those calls to a 976 number.

Your husband is right. You probably wouldn't be so damned eager to buy a new car and some new clothes and a new refrigerator if you got off your ass and got a job.

Exciting news is in store for you Thursday. On Wednesday night, while you're sound asleep, someone will break into your house, steal everything you own, and replace it all with exact duplicates. The insurance company will have you committed.

You have the heart of a small child. It would be to your advantage to take it out of that jar of formaldehyde and throw it in Old Hickory Lake before the neighbors see it and turn you in.

Your microwave oven has a small leak. You won't notice anything funny for a couple of years, but in 1997 you will develop X-Ray vision and be beaten severely by a large man who thought he was the only person who knew where his wife's birthmark was.

Bigamy is a serious crime. You will be exposed by your fourth wife and the judge will sentence you to come up with twelve different horoscopes each month for two years. Not an easy task, believe me.

On Wednesday, you discover that you are the great nephew of Elliot Cringwater, the inventor of the wireless remote control. On Thursday, you will discover that Uncle Elliot never paid a penny of income tax on his royalties and the IRS is looking for someone to hang.

You're really proud of that new vacation home you bought on Old Hickory Lake, aren't you? Don't you know that nothing with gills can live in that thing? They pulled a carp out of it last week with six eyes that could curse like a sailor and recite the Gettysburg Address. Don't drink out of it, don't eat fish out of it, and don't, for any reason, put any part of your body in it.

No, they're not mutants. Those insects you're seeing in the house are just extremely hearty thanks to our warm winters. And tomorrow night, while you're asleep, one of them will suck the blood out of your left ear until your heart stops beating.

It would probably be to your benefit to start wearing your glasses when you drive. We all know you look like a dork with them on, but there are two dogs and a cat on West Main Street who would be alive today if you'd have followed our advice a little earlier. Besides, they make you look sophisticated. Like hell.

There's a good possibility that your week could be very good, but "Knot's Landing" is on and if you think I'm going to miss staring at Nicolette Larson for an hour just to write some gibberish in your horoscope, you're crazy.

Six of the people you work with are plotting behind your back to have you discredited. They've planted a really sick porno movie and a pair of lace panties in your glove compartment and one of them is going to call your wife claiming he left his wallet in there.

That property you've been looking at in Watertown has a well on it that gives about forty gallons a minute. The problem is that the water tastes like old shoes and you won't get a chance to try it until you sign the mortgage and move in.

If at all possible, you need to stop exercising at night with the window shades open. First of all, that butt is no treat to the guys in the neighborhood and second, your spandex body suit has a hole in the back of it the size of Rhode Island.

You were right all along. It wasn't paranoia. Everyone is out to get you and if it weren't for the fact that you've got something on all of them, they'd have done it long ago. Don't destroy all those old pictures and letters - you'll need them.

Your horoscope is simply too revolting to reveal. Suffice it to say that there will be several people come up to you this week and start to cry for no apparent reason. Nod your head and tell them that you understand. Then go home and sob into your pillow.

If you keep bothering her, her father is going to get a very large gun and blow a hole in you the size of a watermelon. First of all, she's only nineteen. Secondly, she has a face that could crack glass. And finally, she's in love with her brother's girlfriend.

You probably don't care one way or the other, but that ragged flag you've been flying for the past twenty years only has 48 stars on it and Alaska and Hawaii are beginning to get pissed.

If every picture tells a story, there are about twenty-three volumes of you and two cocktail waitresses in Room 106 at the Holiday Inn in Nashville that are ready to go to the presses.

The moon is not in the seventh house for you this week, but a piece of rock that looks like a spaceship will crash into your bedroom window. Sorry, that's as close as I can get because I'm half in the bag.

You'll walk in on your little angel this weekend while some punk named Troy is sucking on her neck like a leech. Troy won't live the next ten minutes and you'll do life in prison with a cellmate who looks a lot like Mike Tyson.

That chemistry set you bought for Junior's birthday last month was a good idea. He's having fun and he's learning a lot. You should have remembered to pick up some alcohol for him, though, because he's going to try gasoline tomorrow and his alcohol lamp will turn into a Molotov Cocktail.

Good financial news for you this week. You'll win the $42 million Kentucky lottery. Think of all the things you could buy with $42 million. Think of all the places you could go. Think of the pain in your chest when the phone rings. Think of your heart exploding the moment they tell you you've won.

Your mother's been lying to you about several things for years. First, there is no monster in the closet. Second, your eyes will not stay crossed if you cross them when the wind blows. And finally, the girls on Lower Broad are really nice once you get to know them. Trust me on this one.

That life insurance policy you've been paying on for the last fourteen years will be just a couple of dollars short of the amount your wife needs to bury you.

The baby's crying, dinner was burned, you had one too many beers watching television. You ran out of cigarettes before the news was over, and tomorrow's another workday. Shut up and go to sleep.

Your "meaningful relationship" with the babe down the street will come to a rapid conclusions this week when her drunken husband walks into the house carrying a chain saw, a sawed-off shotgun, two knives the size of small children, and a crossbow.

Face it. You're going bald and all the stupid-looking hats in the world won't hide it. And don't follow your first instinct either, because the only thing worse than a stupid-looking hat is a cheap toupee.

The only thing inevitable in your life is death, taxes, wheel taxes, property taxes, income taxes, sales taxes, luxury taxes, estate taxes, entertainment taxes, and the tax you have to pay when you buy a set of Michelins for the family car and they don't call that a tax, they call it a tariff to make you feel a little better.

The same thing goes for you, except that you have to pay double because you make too much money. And the kid needs braces so there goes that big three-day weekend in the Bahamas.

She looks pretty good in clothes, but eventually you'll find out that she sags like an old sack of potatoes. By then, it'll be too late and you'll have bought her a million dollars worth of jewelry and a new car. Get your phone number changed and tell her you're going on a secret government mission.

While you and your husband were dining on filet mignon at Mario's, your little angel spent most of Saturday night lying over the trunk of a souped-up Grand Am puking her guts out. The rest of the time she was in the back seat with two guys, both named Tyrone, trying desperately to see how many wine coolers she could drink in ten minutes.

Oh, she's going to kill you, okay. You've suspected it all along. The problem is that she's not going to do it with a bullet; she's going to do it slowly, day by day, until you're 62 and your brain explodes.

No one is really sure what to make of you lately. The orange sweat suit and the orange truck are one thing, but drinking carrot juice to turn your skin orange will probably cause you to be locked up. It's just a college, for God's sake. Get a life.

Your wife is plotting to have you murdered by an insomniac dwarf she ran into at the mall last week. He was looking up her dress when the idea came to her. She's hated you for a long time and now you get to know what it's like to have a monkey on your back. Only this monkey has a knife.

While you're at work tomorrow, the serviceman will come around to adjust your cable TV. They'll screw it up and give you all the premium channels for free. When you get home, your little angel will be watching "Hollywood Hookers" in preparation for her new career.

The neighbors were out taking a walk Saturday while you were dancing around in your underwear dusting the furniture. You had the shades up. Now they're all calling you a moron and they laugh every time you drive by.

Want some good advice? Need somebody to guide your poor, twisted, miserable life back on track? Looking for the solutions to all of your problems? Well, you've got the wrong horoscope, Jack. The stars hate you and everybody else thinks you're an idiot.

When you come out of the house tomorrow morning, you're going to step into a present left for you by your neighbor's dog. The day will go downhill from there.

You keep spraying that decongestant up your nose and in two months you won't be able to tell your wife's perfume from a piece of three day old flounder. But don't take my word for it.

Great luck. You'll get a girl just like the girl that married dear old Dad. And if you'll think back to your childhood for a second, you'll remember that the girl who married dear old Dad was a real bitch.

One for Junior: Those aren't really your parents upstairs in the bedroom. They're mutants from the center of the earth and tonight while you're sleeping, they're going to sneak into your room and slit your evil little throat for making too much noise at the dinner table.

Okay, you're damn near forty. All those misused four syllable words won't cut it anymore. It's time to learn how to read and write. And you'd better do it before your kids find out what an idiot you really are.

Your little angel is hanging out in the Kroger parking lot every night wearing silk lingerie that makes her look like a slut. She's also dating a guy who writes horoscopes for this paper, but I don't know who he is. Really. No kidding.

Your husband is having an affair with a woman who has eyes on the side of her head and the mouth of a large tuna. But it's okay, because she might be Oprah Winfrey and you can sue her for everything she's worth.

For the past fifteen years, the termite inspectors have been calling you and arranging for a time to come do their annual inspection. And for the past fifteen years, they've been inspecting the house next door and sending you a bill.

The nostalgia bug will bite you this week but keep in mind that the only thing that's the same as it was when you were a kid is the pain you feel when someone slams the car door on your hand.

Pretty smooth, pretty smooth. You've been going to a different liquor store every night so no one will suspect that you go through a fifth of cheap vodka each day, but the wife's been tailing you and it won't be long before you're paying the bills for a house you don't even live in.

Tell your son that inter-racial dating is okay, but that taking that stupid dog with him everywhere he goes is crazy and is going to generate a lot of talk among the neighbors.

It seems that you get new car fever every year about this time. Forget it. The roads in this county are so full of potholes and ditches that you'll only ruin the suspension.

The only reason that gorgeous girl at the video store is so nice to you is that she feels sorry for a guy whose social life is so bad he has to watch second rate movies every night. You're reading too much into it.

Your urine test is going to be swapped for a vial of apple juice at the doctor's office this week. When the report comes back, it’ll say that you should have stayed on the tree for a couple more weeks until you were ripe.

Don't you think it's a little strange that a grown woman should have stuffed animals all over her bedroom? It was cute when you were a teenager, but it's really beginning to get annoying. Especially to me. Get rid of them or they'll end up as stuffing in a pillow.

For quite some time now, you've been lusting after your secretary and for quite some time, she's been lusting after you. That should make you happy, but tonight, she's got a date with a guy who's got a bad case of herpes.

Of course they all laugh at you behind you back. You haven't got a brain in your head, you watch Wheel of Fortune and talk about it at the office like it was 60 Minutes, and your mother's eighty-five and still wears mini-skirts.

Concerning that guy at the bar last weekend. Personality isn't everything: good looks count, too. You lose.

The guys in the Sanitation Department go through your trash every time they pick it up. They keep all the Polaroids and sell them to men's magazines, so watch out.

There are some pretty evil things going on in Junior's mind ever since the sitter let him watch Cinemax last Friday night. Watch out for the girl down the street.

This is the most frightening horoscope I've ever had to write, but the stars say you're going to die this week. I could be wrong, but I see it happening. Especially if you're over 94.

There are seven people in your neighborhood who think you're the one who's been soaping their windows. They've stocked up on toilet paper, so don't be surprised in the morning.

The next time you say "Somebody shoot me!" somebody will.

That 300ZX isn't going to impress the checker at Kroger's. She thinks you're an idiot. Stop bothering her, for God's sake. She's your preacher's daughter.

The influence of Saturn on the Moon and the pull of Pluto on the planet of Jupiter will affect your greatly during the coming week. That is, if you buy into this trash. Otherwise, things will be pretty much the same.

All that stuff you've been reading and hearing about red wine being good for your heart is true. But it's glasses, not bottles. And leave the cigarettes alone.