In Horror-Scopes, the Grapevine’s dedicated team of amateur astrologists tell you how to live your best life. First tip? Wear a fucking mask. A mystical mask.
There’s a pirate metal band entitled Alestorm who, in their hit song “Mexico,” bravely rhymed the lyrics, “The wenches they are plenty, the alcohol is free,” with the lines, “The party lasts all through the night… and the alcohol is free.” Yes, these pirate-poets had the audacity to rhyme “The alcohol is free,” with “The alcohol is free.” Be inspired by this courage in the next week, Aries. Yo ho.
The simulation is failing, Taurus. A gamma-ray burst is imminent. Why? Well, you’re right. It was Berenstein Bears and there was a cornucopia in the Fruit Of The Loom logo. Don’t let naysayers convince you otherwise. Spend more time on the internet.
You hoe. Get your freak on. Just kidding—sex is discouraged during this pandemic.
My Chemical Romance once released a very sad ballad called “Cancer.” We don’t think it was about you, but perhaps Gerard Way was foretelling the future when he wrote, “I will not kiss you,” and “Counting down the days to go, it just ain’t living.” You’re right Gerard, and Cancer, welcome to the new soundtrack for your imminent breakdown due to lack of hugs. Get the eyeliner ready.
Masks don’t have to match with every outfit, but what’s the point of life if you can’t flex on the haters with your superior style? By the way, they are DEFINITELY specifically checking your Instagram story—it’s not like they are just flipping through everyone they follow. Definitely not.
Quarantine is lonely, but no one on Tinder is impressed by your ability to still remember the expert version of “Through The Fire And The Flames” on Guitar Hero. Yes, your fingers may be dexterous—a plus, we admit—but being stuck in the mid-2000s is only fun when you’re reminiscing about Obama’s first election. >_<
“LET’S PLAY RAID SHADOW LEGENDS. START NOW FOR FREE.” Actually. you know what? Don’t give ‘em shit; make those developers pay for their addictive social media. Down with Pinterest.
Stop being a dick, Scorpio. Libertarianism isn’t the solution for coronavirus, Jesus Christ.
Text your ex. It doesn’t matter that you haven’t spoken since he found you crying in the hedge outside his window—quarantine is the best time to reach out to people. Maybe the fact that your calls don’t get through anymore is actually a sign that he wants you to break down his emotional walls. Paint a picture of his face and throw it through the door of his house to illustrate your love for him.
You’re right: If they all wrote his name in, Bernie could still win.
Who should be your mood board inspiration for this week? Obviously Criss Angel, goth magician and Mindfreak extraordinaire. Walk on water. That’d be fucking sick.
The best way to get a job is to fake your entire CV. Don’t speak French? That’s ok, literally no one else does. You can deal with that when you’re appointed a job in a Parisian marketing firm, by speaking English in a loud voice and expecting everyone else to adapt to you.
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