As a coping mechanism, I bought myself a Christmas present last night. Since I’ve given up the harder drugs of my past, I now indulge myself in the slick pages of cosmic bliss. Alone, under the glow of the Christmas tree, I sat with my new astrology book, cackling out loud as I read the following:
The thought of exploring a pool of strangers, dating and finding a man may turn Pisces off from finding a mate all together. The life of a single spinster or even a nun has always had an odd appeal to the fish girl.
See why I love this shit?