There is probably not one person on this entire stupid planet that can get on my last goddamned nerve like Claire Louise Mooney.
And on that note: House of the Rising Meh. Song 64b.
Every once in a while, when Claire especially likes my horoscope she up and emails it to me. Out of the blue. And it always seems to happen on days when I am ready to fucking quit…although I haven’t even talked to her at all.
“A man may fulfill the object of his existence by asking a question he cannot answer, and attempting a task he cannot achieve,” mused 19th-century author Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr. Advice that wild could just as well have been dispensed by a feral saint living in a cave in the woods. And now I’m passing it on to you, Aries, just in time for the beginning of what may be your wildest year in a decade. In my astrological opinion, you are ready to be a connoisseur of mysteries that purify the mind and nurture the soul . . . a daredevil of the spirit in quest of seemingly impossible dreams . . . a fierce adept of the wisdom of uncertainty who’s in love with unpredictable teachings.
One time, I told Claire that I wanted “Wish You Were Here” by Pink Floyd to be played at my funeral. And this crazy bitch says to me “I like that. I might use it.” Yeah well, let it be known here and now if you die before me, I will fucking kill you. ♥ Hooker.