Feeling mildly heartsick over a recent 1 lb gain, after meticulously following my diet to a tee, I happened to come up across the astrological prognosis subdivision of a local newspaper. Not being a true truster in these futuristic predictions, I thought maybe this spot of information (for amusement intents only) might convey me out of my morose condition.
I looked through the column until I establish the subdivision for Lion and read: "You will undergo an unexpected addition today." "Uncanny," I thought. How could this astrologist accurately foretell that I had gained a lb on my diet? My belief in this fine art word form became positive. Instantly, I became addicted to these predictions.
Assuming that astrological anticipations are based on planetary arrangements and lunar observations, it seemed only natural they would all be very similar. Similar, that is, until I picked up a transcript of the television Guide.
As I was skimming through the dorsum of the magazine, I noticed that they had a page dedicated to foretelling the future. Thinking that I would see another reference about my gain, I read on. However, instead of a gain, it stated that I was going to take on the character of Aluminum Bundy and that a Pisces The Fishes would be an built-in portion of my life. Since my girlfriend is a Pisces, I quickly looked up the Pisces The Fishes The Fishes prediction. It said that she would take on the character of Peg Bundy. She jokingly commented, "Hey, it could have got said Teddy Boy Bundy."
My beliefs in these prognoses began to diminish. I needed something to verify the first column I read. Person else had to foretell the same thing.
I looked through a Cosmopolitan that was on the java table. I turned to the astrological subdivision and became even more than depressed. It said, "Romance would come in my life" and I would "fall for an exceedingly fine-looking love interest." This wasn't anywhere fold to the other two predictions. My girlfriend tried to smoothen me over with the account that Cosmo was geared primarily to women and that its prognoses were probably aimed toward women under that sign. "Bouillabaisse," I screamed. My girlfriend couldn't believe I would utilize such as linguistic communication in presence of the dog. But, I was upset.
Using her women's theory about the Cosmo predictions, I went to the shop and bought a men's magazine. I went past the centrefold and turned to my horoscope. It said that the moon was in the Seventh House and Jupiter had aligned with Red Planet and I would probably look bare in a Great White Way play.
I became despairing and drove to the supermarket. As I went through the checkout, I picked up a transcript of the Inquirer with the headline, "Woman Denies Alien Being Are Father of Her Green, Two-Headed Baby." I turned to their zodiacal forecast, but all it said was that I would undergo an Elvis sighting at a Weight Watchers meeting in Key Biscayne.
No 1 could confirm the very first anticipation that I read. In fact, cipher could claim verification on anyone else's guesses. The closest I came is when I called a 900 figure I saw on T.V. advertisement an honest-to-goodness-astrologer. After being on clasp for 15 minutes, "Madame Louisa" told me that I would undergo an unexpected loss. This was true - a twenty-seven dollar complaint was tagged to my telephone bill!
Feeling like I had just learned that there was no Santa Claus, my girlfriend took me out for a quiet dinner at the Shanghai Gardens. I moped through my full meal, until the end, when the server brought over a plate of luck cookies. I took one and broke it open. The small faux pas of paper read: "You will undergo an unexpected addition today." I smiled as I got up to go forth the eating house and the place of my trousers split.