Below are Hottywood’s cookie fortunes as revealed by the moon and the sun, and the itch on the bottom of his foot.
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Capricorn
December 22 – January 19
Congratulations! You have just been elected mayor of Watercoolertown.
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Aquarius
January 20 – February 18
Don’t be surprised if your boss gives you a promotion before he fires you so you’d be losing a better job.
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Pisces
February 19 – March 20
There are two possible answers to one burning question: fruit loops and g-strings.
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Aries
March 21 – April 19
You ought to be happy when the grips of the world come after you because it means you have something to offer. Freeloaders excluded.
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Taurus
April 20 – May 20
Try not to sweat today. French fry grease may ooze out of your pores.
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Gemini
May 21 – June 20
The term “Different strokes for different folks,” originated in the bedroom and is now often misconstrued and taken out of its original sexual context. What a bummer.
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Cancer
June 21 – July 22
You may want to avoid advising anyone on how to spend their money unless they owe you or you’re planning to rob them. Either way your ass could get kicked.
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Leo
July 23 – August 22
Beware of a dog with no legs and a rattle on its tail.
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Virgo
August 23 – September 22
Having a string of flings does not make you a lover. It makes you easy.
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Libra
September 23 – October 22
Today you may find that you want to spend a lot of time with someone that doesn’t have time for you. You should smack yourself in the forehead now and smell the damn coffee.
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Scorpio
October 23 – November 21
Today is tomorrow in reverse.
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Sagittarius
November 22 – December 21
After you get what you want you don’t want what you got at all.
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Quote of the week: “Put yourself in the shoes of the rabbit’s foot that brings you good luck. Oh wait, you can’t. He doesn’t have any feet.”
I’m thankful I wasn’t born in the era of pilgrims and Indians. I wouldn’t have survived. I just can’t see me chasing live chickens and turkeys and wearing those funny hats and pointy shoes. I probably would have popularized “man”orexia and nudism and been made an example out of by being burned alive at the stake along side a woman with a funny name accused of being a witch. 
I’m thankful for all my whiny, needy coworkers. Without them, I wouldn’t appreciate the time I spend away from all of my loud, obnoxious neighbors. Especially the ones that think the scent of marijuana is as lovely as the fragrance of bacon. You know what neighbors I’m talking about because everyone has them in their neighborhood. It’s the family that plays their music louder than a Bon Jovi concert and pays $20 for rent. 
I’m thankful for family and friends. Even the ones that talks sh*t behind my back and only calls me when they need something. They help me to realize that I’m still relevant while they are not worth a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of. 
Is it legal to talk about your fellow brothers and sisters in Christ when it comes to them getting up on the microphone to completely butcher a song on Sunday morning? Seriously, who is more at fault – the soloist for thinking they can sing when they sound more like they’re being attacked; the director/pianist for encouraging the soloist to open their mouth to do anything except eat; or the congregation for hollering and throwing their hands up in deceitful praise when they know what they’re really doing is praying for a miracle for the good Lord to send “mute buttons” down from heaven?
There are two things that I’m afraid of – snakes and the people who take my order in any fast food drive-thru; not necessarily in that order. 
I say it’s time for fast food chains of the world to revert back to the olden days when drive-thrus were respected for their chic and hip idea of good quality service. Customers now-a-days would appreciate a little service with a smile as they face an economic crisis, heavy workloads and supervisors who really need to get laid. Bring back the days when Ronald McDonald strolled the grounds of McDonald’s waving happily at children while wearing his signature floppy red shoes and that ridiculously hideous yellow onesy. Get rid of that scary ass Burger King mascot who looks more like the puppet from the horror film “Saw” and give us an image that will not haunt us after we’ve closed our eyes for the night. 
So guys and gals, the next time your neighborhood fast food window teller crosses your muddy path with spiked heels, don’t yell at her. Don’t curse at her. Don’t even argue with her. This way you’ll have a bit of assurance that she won’t spit in your food or wipe your hamburger patty on the side of the deep fryer. Instead, take your car and drive it through the window. If that doesn’t work, throw up the deuce sign and drive off. No no no…of course I wouldn’t advise that you let it go that easily. Make sure you return after-hours, when the business has closed for the night and burn that sucker to the ground! Lighters are sold at the $1 Store and comes in a pack of five. 
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