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Suffusion of Yellow

Name:
Paula
Location:
External Services:
Schools:
My future, according to The Onion:

Cancer: (June 22—July 22)
Jesus will finally speak to you this week, but His message of love will contain such filthy language that your faith will be shaken forever.

Psychoanalysis focuses on causes, therapy focuses on consequences, but your new method of counseling people focuses mostly on drilling holes in them.

Try as you might, you'll never be able to convince FEMA that Baltimore was like that when you got there.

No, no, no—you're supposed to gently heat the garlic cloves until they caramelize, you moron, not turn them into a burnt paste.

Suppressed-memory therapy will do wonders for you, but only until you recover the long-lost knowledge that suppressed memories are bullshit.

You've finally run up against a problem your trusty meat cleaver can't solve, but that's why they make big wooden mallets.

You've always considered yourself something of a shutterbug, but that's certainly not what the Interpol agents who confiscate your hard drive will call you.

Just a few more months and you'll be able to point out historical inaccuracies in people's Halloween costumes.

You'll help realize Western civilization's oldest dream, but it's only the one about getting to school late on exam day.

You're usually pretty careful, so it's worth mentioning when 36 are wounded during your trip to the grocery store.

Hey, it's not your fault if the others around the office don't find your horrifyingly racist sense of humor funny.

Stealing the opposing team's mascot is a time-honored tradition, but it turns out the Muslims think of that big black rock as more than just a mascot.

The greased-pig trick is a crass, sophomoric classic, but you'll raise it to an art form at Biosphere 2.

If you've ever wanted to tour the world while being held against your will in a container ship, this is your lucky week.

Not only is fusion sushi "so three years ago," but you apparently don't realize it has nothing to do with the musical stylings of Spyro Gyra.

Learning to accept change is a sign of maturity. Enjoy spending your golden years begging for it on the corner.

In yet another odd grandstanding ploy for attention, the Irish Republican Army has offered to shoot you.

You should move confidently in whatever direction your dreams take you, even if they're about being chased down a dark hallway by a bloody-fanged eggplant.

It is said that the eyes are the windows to one's soul, which helps explain why so many damn birds keep flying into them.

Self-important claims about being your own worst enemy this week will only serve to further inspire those already plotting your demise.

Without warning and seemingly against your will, you'll once again claim to be a black, time-traveling nanoscientist trapped inside a white man's body.

Remember: While volunteering to remove your shoes before entering a friend's apartment is indeed polite, volunteering to remove your shirt, pants, and undergarments is anything but.

The stars are serious this time: If they ever catch you with those fucking tea leaves again, you can kiss the last 15 years goodbye.

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