Ophiuchus, a Possible New Tattoo

Please note, that I will resume European stories shortly. France, filled with berets and Le Big Macs, rain and cheese, will be told through the eyes of yours truly.

Today however, I was compelled to search, via google, about the 13th Zodiac sign, Ophiuchus. A few days ago, I met my mother for an afternoon lunch (or Happy Hour as most people know it), and she calmly asked me, "are you still a Cancer?" At first, I thought she had asked if I still had Cancer, and was a bit thrown off. Post clarification of her true statement, I was more mortified than I was when I thought she had asked me if I had cancer. In the 2 weeks we were on Holiday in Spain, apparently The World decided for the last few hundred years (Pure approximation, calculated by nothing other than my guestimations) we had been close to a whole month off on the astrological calender. WTF, World?!?

Other than high school crushes and bored Saturdays, the horoscope was nothing I followed too closely. Horoscope descriptions, I have always found are fairly vague. Whether reading them in a magazine, newspaper, or on a website, one can usually relate to their specific sign, for example:

"Today is a special day, someone that you know, will do something. This may either elate you, or devastate you. If the wind blows, you will have thoughts, and if the day is a standstill, your thoughts will have you. Lucky Numbers, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9."

Upon reading this (or something closely related), many people (typically gullible), will relate this to their specific Zodiac. "My thoughts might have me, and I do indeed know someone...and I am positive they will do something." C'mon guys, we all know the Horoscope calender is a ploy for Cosmo (The magazine with dirty sex secrets for every occasion) to make money. Every January they come out with the Zodiac issue, where you can see which celebrity you are most compatible with based on how many rose icons you both have in your respective columns. Everyone wants to know how steamy their sex life might be, given the chance, with Jessica Alba or Johnny Depp. Unfortunately for most of us (or perhaps just me, based on Karma and my shitty, sarcastic attitude) I always end up with the sex life most compatible with Tom Hanks or Cloris Leachman.

I don't think I have ever opted out of being some one's friend because they were a Virgo. And I almost never discriminated against any sign for dating (sleeping with) purposes. The only thing that currently perplexes me (and fortunately for me, I was born a Cancer, and because of what my mother calls the stubbornness of my ass not wanting to leave the womb, I still am a Cancer) is the people who permanently inked themselves with their sign, only to have it now changed. It was like the cool people in NM, when the entire state had one area code (505, what what!) and they all tattooed it in Old English across their chest or on the back of their necks, just to have it change 2 years later. (575, boo). How you gunna switch that 0 to a 7, homes?!?

How inexplicable rude of The World to not take into consideration the bad decisions of freshman year and an amature tattoo artist. Finally coming to terms with the blue blob positioned above some 29 year olds hip, having spent years convincing friends and lovers alike it REALLY REALLY was the Sagittarius, she is now facing a devastation in telling her 3 year old it really really is Ophiuchus... the 13th Zodiac sign.

All in all, lesson of the day; someone will have a compatible and steamy sex life with Danny Glover, pending the decision of their Cosmo Magazine's Horoscope.

:)