Hottywood’s HORRORscopes: Week of October 18-24, 2015

non_psychic

Find out what your luck has in store for you this week.


Capricorn

December 22 – January 19

Every time you don’t say “thank you” for any act of random kindness that someone shows you, your tongue will burn as if you’ve ingested a thousand baby stick pins and your nails will crumble like old Masking tape.


Aquarius

January 20 – February 18

You are generally tough to figure out because you answer every question with a question. Someone is likely to beat you up in a parking lot. There is no question about that.


Pisces

February 19 – March 20

The best way to get your point across today is to speak like a parrot.


Aries

March 21 – April 19

Every one of your belches will make a cross-eyed gold fish die. This is your way of giving back to your community.


Taurus

April 20 – May 20

Do not chew up watermelons and spit the seeds at ducks. This will lower your vitamin levels.


Gemini

May 21 – June 20

Beware. You may be attacked by a lonely old office-hag whose renter’s insurance just lapsed.


Cancer

June 21 – July 22

If a man tells you his real middle name, you are officially betrothed.


Leo

July 23 – August 22

You are sure to win a Nobel Prize if you can successfully photograph a midget leprechaun doing the Electric Slide on stilts in the middle of an Arizona desert at night while blindfolded and wearing a pinky ring.


Virgo

August 23 – September 22

Knowledge is realizing that the street is one-way. Wisdom is looking in both directions anyway.


Libra

September 23 – October 22

You don’t lack in the power of speech. You lack in the power of conversation.


Scorpio

October 23 – November 21

“Always” and “never” are two words you should always remember never to say.


Sagittarius

November 22 – December 21

Staple a block of jelly to your nipples and see how that works out for you.


Quote of the week:  “Better a witty fool than a foolish wit.”

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Never Allow Your Lips to Look Like a Stale Glazed Donut

Ashy LipsYou know, you wouldn’t believe the number of people who don’t realize or appreciate the necessity in chapstick and lip balm. I guess I have to go out on a limb here and say this message is specifically for men (not to include drag queens or the like). Women and those that impersonate them are pretty privy to lip balms and lip sticks and lip gloss. Good for them. Those are people we don’t need to talk about (or laugh at – some things considered).  But fellas, whether you believe it or not, there is an important need to tend to your lips. Wait. Wait. Hear me out. Nah, this isn’t some homo shyt. This is real talk. And in the end some of you may thank me.

Your lips need as much care as the rest of your face, especially since lips are almost always exposed to the elements. Chapped lips can happen year-round, but we are now in a season where no one should be caught slipping (as one of my Facebook friends so eloquently put it, along with a picture of someone who looks like they bathed [only] their lips in a tub of confection sugar).

You should always your hydrate your lips. Now I won’t be too picky on how you do that. What you do in the privacy of your own home (or behind an old trash dumpster) and how you do it is of no concern to me. But there are two good ways of hydrating your lips. The first way has everything to do with what you do in the privacy of your own home or behind an old trash dumpster; the second way is to apply alcohol-free lip balm. I’m not saying don’t drink alcohol. Only someone who skipped class(es) all through high school would think that. Actually, that’s the first thing I thought when this little rule was revealed to me. But I still graduated at the lower middle of the top of my class, so there! Alcohol is good. And everyone should drink it. Well maybe not everyone. 9 out of 10 people should drink alcohol. That one 1 person who doesn’t drink it probably shouldn’t, because alcohol is…wait. Alcohol isn’t the main focus of this post is it? What were we talking about? Damn. I need to stop drinking so much.  Oh yeah! Keep them lips hydrated. If you’re one of those people that does unmentionable things in the privacy of your own home or behind an old trash dumpster, dry, cracked lips could cause major interference and could very well be considered as its own cock block! Drink water . . . with every glass of alcohol.

Glue Stick

You want to make sure that you always sun-proof your lips. If I were still in middle school, I’m sure this would sound funny to me, especially because I’m also sure I’d have skipped science class. Since your lips have no melanin (the pigment that gives skin their color) they can easily get burned. NOTE: They can also get burned by doing those unmentionable things that we aren’t going to mention. Apply some lip balm that contains SPF (Sun Protection Factor, which is a measure of how well sunscreen will protect skin from UVB rays, the kind of radiation that causes sunburn, damages skin, and contribute to skin cancer).  You’d be surprised at the number of people that look down on burnt lips. One could easily assume that some oral foreplay went terribly wrong and will in turn run away from your ass screaming, and eventually laughing!  One could also easily assume that you are hitting the pipe or are a chronic weed or cigarette smoker. Though that may be attractive to some, it’s the total opposite for others. Although I personally don’t see how cracked lips can be attractive to anyone, but who am I to judge?

A good lip balm could heal your lips quickly for those instances where oral foreplay goes terribly wrong. It can prevent infection, dryness and irritation. It won’t get rid of any unsightly sores around the mouth though. With that said, always be careful of whom or what you put your lips on!  I’m gonna leave it at that. Kermit the Frog said it best when he said, “but that’s none of my business.”

kermit none of my business

Chapped and ashy lips can also make you look like you’re on crack, which is almost always a deal breaker in the world of dating and booty calling.

I could offer one final piece of advice by telling you to lay off salty snacks and spicy foods, like hot wings, for a while because they can dry your lips out. However, advising that would go against everything “chicken” that I stand for. Giving up anything chicken-related is simply un-American. And if nothing else, I am American. So eat on my friends. Kill chickens and eat them as much as your heart desires. Just remember that your lips can be affected by your heart’s desires.

P.S., you’re welcome.


Quote of the week: “Things could be worse. Someone out there has more intimacy with their lip balm than they do with their significant other.”

ask-hottywood

THROWBACK: A Case of the Mondays on a Tuesday

MONDAYI can’t go on a “Today is Monday” tangent, because today is not Monday but rather Tuesday. However since I didn’t get to gripe and groan about all the bullshit that usually happens on a Monday, the universe saw fit for me to get my dose of the Monday blues today.

After spending the last five days footloose and worry free on an Easter vacation, this morning I partook in a WWE wrestling match with my alarm clock. The clocked punched and kicked and pulled and pushed me until I found myself laying on the floor, covered in bruises and pillow drool. No more are my days of sleeping until high noon. No more waking up to buttered toast and cold beers. No more watching I Love Lucy and all things 80s on the Hallmark channel. Nope. After today’s royal battle, I am back to the humdrum of hating mornings, fighting with my cat over when and how much to feed him before I leave for the day, and listening to my downstairs neighbor call her husband a lazy, fat so and so because she has to get up to go to work while he continues to lay his unemployed butt around the house scratching his balls.

I’d finally mustered up enough energy to wash the last five days off of me and shaved the fur that grew on my face, when behold, there was a shocking bang on my door reminiscent of a knock just before a police swat team storms a raid bust site. To my surprise it was my downstairs neighbor, demanding (not requesting) to use my phone because she’d locked herself out of her apartment, after having put her husband out on the streets and telling him not to return without a job. I wanted to laugh in her face in an effort to say NANANABOO, as I remembered the argument we had some months ago when she waited two weeks after one of my late night trysts to complain about all the noise I made on that particular night, which in my head warranted me a well-deserved pat on the back and a serious high five on my part! Alas, at 6:45am, after having lost a wrestling match with my alarm clock, laughing was the last thing I wanted to do.

I finally made it to work, and of course, was greeted by an empty coffee pot. Next to the pot was an ice bucket full of coffee creamers. It was a double slap in the face because there was no coffee and also I’m allergic to dairy. Could this morning get any worse? I thought to myself.  Of course I asked that question moments before booting up my computer only to find I had no access to email, the internet or any shared network drives. In addition to having no technology access, I have a major report due tomorrow. It probably would have made sense if I’d have started working on the report three weeks ago when I was first made aware of it, but like every man on the planet, procrastination got the best of me. I figured I could get the report done in less than 8 hours. …Technically 5 ½ hours now.

No Monday-like Tuesday would be complete without forgetting my wallet. Since begging is not in my vocabulary, lunch will be particularly interesting today. I did grab a few packs of soy sauce from the cafeteria. Perhaps when my blood pressure rises above the norm, the near death experience will help me to forget just how hungry I am. This wouldn’t have been a problem if one of the cleaning staff hadn’t stolen the baked chicken that I forgot to take home with me last week from out of the refrigerator.

On a good note, not many people are in the office today. That translates into not many people will see my new outfit. You know. The one I wore to church on Easter Sunday. The good news about that is I’ll know exactly what I’m going to wear two days from today, and I won’t even have to iron!

Now the only thing I need to do is drink enough soy sauce packets until my head starts to spin, much like it does when I’ve been slipped a mickey at any given party on a Friday night. That might motivate me to start on this report and at noon, stand in front of the cafeteria like a panhandler when the rest of the building staff bombards the lunch line for today’s spaghetti and meatballs. I said begging is not in my vocabulary. I didn’t say I didn’t know how to do it. Hopefully I can get about twenty people to give me $.25 each.

Until then, people. On this Tuesday, I’d like to say to you all, HAPPY MONDAY or some shit like that!


Quote of the Week:  “The golden rule of work is that the boss’ jokes are ALWAYS funny.”   

THROWBACK: Be Careful What You Wish For

Once upon a time there was a little old man who wished for a whole bunch of shit beginning at an age when he could officially define the word “wish.”

As a young boy his wishes never turned out right. He once wished he could fly like Superman. His wish partially came true. He turned into a bird and used the flight as an opportunity to shit on the heads of all his enemies. It wasn’t long after that he was chased by a ferocious alley cat, warranting him to wish to be turned back into his old young self.

A few years later he wished he had a car so he could pick up the ladies. His wish came true. Unfortunately he never learned how to drive. So while picking up a woman on the ho stroll of 43rd and Heifer Lane, he wound up being chased by a gang of cops for reckless driving and operating a vehicle without a valid driver’s license.

He spent the next 100 hours in a jail cell with a boyfriend named Ice Pic, who incidentally was not a woman. This ended his wishing cycle for the next few turns of a pad lock.

A couple years passed with no wish from the then young boy who quickly turned into a young man/bitch/jail bait. Greed got the best of him over time. He figured with age would come better wishing decisions so he wished for more birthdays so he could have more wishes. What he got was more candles on his birthday cake and a few liver spots.

Once again his wish didn’t turn out exactly the way he’d hoped. By this point he was over it. Just as he came close to losing oxygen from blowing out the million plus candles, he spewed what he thought would be a fail-safe wish.

His wish was, “I wish I weren’t an old man.”

He was quickly running out of time and patience. In a last ditch effort for help, he turned to yours truly for a word of advice.

“Hottywood,” he said. “How can I at least turn myself back into a man without screwing up another wish?”

The question had me stumped for a minute. Then suddenly it came to me!

 

The moral of the story is to be careful what you wish for.

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