So I have this book… It’s probably one that I stole from Devon, as most of the good books in my library seem to somehow find their way out of her house and into my repurposed china cabinet/bookshelf. (She knows, man… She knows)
The book is called Born on a Rotten Day: Illuminating and coping with the dark side of the zodiac, and let me tell you kids, this book is incredible. Mostly tongue-in-cheek, but damn. SO spot-on.
I don’t want to come across like some kind of hokey, plinky-plunky new-age zodiac weirdo because really, my knowledge on the subject is limited to what is contained in this book, my horoscope and whatever it is that Devon tells me about Mercury retrograding or Saturn returning or Uranus being gaping or some such shit. But I think it matters a lot more to me than I would readily admit outside of this blog post. I believe my last reincarnation of my OkCupid profile said that I was a “Scorpio and laughing about it.”
But I’m not laughing really kids. I mean, I am because, come on… It’s a little ‘shroom-trippy to map your life on what a psychic says, right? We are all unique individuals and our personalities are NOT determined by our birthdays… right? Right?!
Well… According to this book, I’m a fucking textbook Scorpio.
Quality: Fixed. Scorpios never forget, forgive or let go.
Favorite Pastime: Plotting their next move
Dream Job: Judge, jury and the lord high executioner.
Key Phrase: “I’ll get you for that!”
Body Part: Sex organs. Terminal case of the seven year itch. Scratches frequently.
Conventional astrology describes Scorpio as an intense, mysterious, sensual creature blessed with the gift of regeneration, like the Phoenix rising from its ashes. Make that Dracula riding from the coffin. Rotten Scorpios are obsessed, stealthy, corporal control freaks who replenish their egos at everyone else’s expense. Scorpios are extreme, not rational. They view life as either black or white and rarely compromise. Being born with the all-or-nothing gene has voided their ability to form lasting relationship with anyone who refuses to submit to their control. Argue with one, and suffer a verbal beating that makes you wish they had slugged you instead. Prove your point, and they will give themselves an ulcer trying to get even.
Oh sweet JESUS. I mean, sure… It’s a description of me at my worst, but damn man!
It goes on to describe what you should do if you love a Scorpio woman:
There is nothing superficial about a female Scorpio. She is a woman of total confidence and grace. Her style is all classic chic, her manner friendly but reserved. She expects you to be strong, courageous and ambitious. She is psychically astute and can sense the subtlest of changes in your mood, and pinpoint the cause, with the skill of a trained psychoanalyst.
Okay, okay… This all sounds AWESOME to me. And then… the bad stuff comes back:
The rotten part is that Ms. Scorpio graduated from the Hannibal Lecter School of Therapy. She dispenses her opinons in a way that crushes your ego and destroys your pride in one fell swoop, much like chopping off your finger to cure a hangnail. She fears nothing, questions everything and will go to the ends of the earth for a friend or lover. She could read the Bible to the Devil and make him listen.
Alright, so not ALL bad, right? I mean… I’m a ballsy broad that is lacking in tact but I’m loyal! Ehhh… IT gets worse:
All Scorpio women instinctively know that the fastest way to a man’s heart is through his ribcage.
Don’t every betray this woman. Don’t threaten her or in any way endanger her security. And for God’s sake, don’t publicly humiliate her. There are women scorned and then there are Scorpio women scorned, and a betrayed female Scorpion is like Lady Macbeth on crack.
HA! There’s a funny mental picture, right? And what’s so scary is that it’s TRUE! I have a three strikes rule — I’ll give you the benefit of doubt for two rounds, but if you cross me a third time, prepare for war, motherfucker. And also, burned bridges. I don’t mess around with that shit.
Your female Scorpion will mostly likely not reach for a gun, but she will make you reach for hard liquor in a tall glass.
WHEW. Okay. That’s enough. I mean, there’s more for sure… But I need a break from all this self-reflective cunt-calling and likely, cock-blocking exercise.
I’m going to share with you about the Giant, soon. When I read his entry to him, he was fist pumping and laughing hysterically. Stubborn fucking Rams. Ha!