Your Horoscopes

PublishedJune 30, 2009

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The stars fucking give up—if you want another slice of blueberry pie, just go ahead and have another slice of blueberry pie.

You’ll feast on the flesh of your mortal enemy, which is lucky for you, as your mortal enemy is the orange-braised duck.

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Friends will soon discover the secret ingredient to your world-famous lemon bars, though they’ll lack the necessary motor functions to tell others.

You’re no art expert, but you know what you like, which explains all the meatball sandwiches hanging on your walls.

While it's true that every man has his price, yours is the only one clearly labeled at the top of a pancake menu.

It might not be today, and it might not be tomorrow, but you’ll soon come to regret staging a pie-eating contest to select a new wife.

You’re about to go through a real messy divorce, thanks in large part to the Philly cheese steak you’ll refuse to put down.

The stars apologize for last week’s prediction of “money problems.” Looks like they forgot the “k” in there.

You’ll have no choice but to eat the other passengers after your plane crashes into an Armor Hot Dog Processing Plant this week.

Don’t spend the rest of your life wondering “what if?” Dress the dog in full military regalia before it’s too late.

Turns out it was the butler, in the study, with the candlestick. But enough about your love life.

You’ll turn to religion this week, dislocating your neck, both shoulders, and most of your tendons in the process.