Today’s Existential Forecast ~
Today will be
overly diffident, with occasional outbreaks of sarcasm followed by regret.
Competence will be nominal-to-intermittent as measured in “oPrahs”.
Please be aware that a collapsible umbrella advisory is in place. Coffee breaks are at your own risk until 10 A.M., with the rims of cups containing scalding beverages being farther away than they appear.
You’re late again this morning. This is the perfect time to determine if there’s water on the kitchen floor from a slow leak by walking around in your socks, or to go barefoot to locate the one remaining shard of the Baccarat highball glass that you threw at your ex.
Distractibility once you do reach the office is high today, clocking in at eight-out-of-ten on a scale where:
1 equals making yourself a cup of instant coffee in under 30 minutes but still forgetting the milk is off;
10 equals setting out to check your calendar and ending up eight hours later with a new operating system, an order confirmation for purchase of a vintage “Mister Potato Head” kit from eBay, and a whole slew of hate mail from “just-repeal-it-then-impeach-the-socialist-towel-head-dot-com”.
Incidentally, while you were shopping online, the VP walked past and saw that Photoshop composite you made of of Michelle Obama in a topless swimsuit and hijab leading Barack on a dog leash. Don’t even bother saying it was the “Annual Humane Society gala”.
Emotional Turbulence (Fig. 1): There may be unexpected gusts of free-floating panic-induced hysteria.
EXPERT TIP THAT YOU ALREADY KNOW: Never, but we mean NEVER, take refuge under a tree.
Instead, watch for the throwing of a small, decorative cushion, which signals that the hysteria has passed.
FUN FACT: Count slowly from the outbreak of hysteria to find out how long until the cushion-throwing!
Today’s ASSHOLE TOLERANCE FACTOR (ATF):
Zero, peaking at 1. Some of you might want to remain indoors.
We’re just sayin’.
Assholes you can just about tolerate with an effective ATF of 1 may include:
♦ The asshole queen you met on Grindr who actually says “Tee Hee” instead of laughing when he thinks something is amusing;
♦ Your asshole friend who borrowed twenty dollars “until tomorrow” two-and-a-half years ago, then says, “you’re not getting all bent outta shape for twenty bucks are you??? Sheesh!”;
♦ The fat asshole behind you in the liquor store line-up who looks at your two-litre bottle of Jackson-Triggs Cabernet Sauvignon with raised eyebrows and stage-whispers, “Large economy size?” in an arch tone.
Please note that results may vary.
Overall outlook for —
Breezy, but with toe rubbers. You’ll despise the general perception that your mother still buys your clothes, and/or that you’ve just left a Presbyterian seminary.
As our fashion maven likes to emphasize: “GAP ‘Relaxed Fit’ is death’s French kiss!”
POINTS TO PONDER: The way your boss stares at your sandwich while adjusting her pencil-skirt will make you question the cool-factor of egg salad sandwiches wrapped up in waxed paper.
Overall outlook for —
WOMEN: Brave, with just the tiniest tragic hint of your grandmother’s pill-box hat. You’ll spend the day trying to project the plucky vulnerability of Dorothy Gale, while actually coming across as a more vitriolic Dorothy Parker, only without the redeeming wit.
WHAT WOULD IVANKA DO?: A Singapore Sling at The Algonquin or similar establishment may help with your tendency to assume the role of “Ms. Quark-y Gluon Who Holds the Universe Together”.
But your PMS will hate you.
HERE COME DA WEEKEND, YO! Back at work on Friday, chill out, relax, and enjoy your recent promotion to manager. Show them who’s boss, and set the progressive tone, by turning up in Crocs, sweatpants and a tee with still-visible ragù stains.
You’ll be sitting pretty right up until 12:45, which is when your secretary reminds you that at one o’clock you and the regional team are treating Ronald Lauder and Renée Fleming to lunch at The Carlyle.
Saturday evening finds you unsuccessful in your attempt to mask your home’s lingering smell of chain-smoking with a devil-may-care spritz of Axe Personal Fragrance.
Sunday is the essence of an entire day stuck mid-afternoon, mid-May, with glorious, sunny, bright blue skies and your high-school history essay, due tomorrow, still unwritten.
A meltdown seems imminent during dinner when you remember how you gritted your teeth and stayed indoors, missing the nice day, to write the essay, then didn’t write the essay.
Yes, this is your life.
Yes, that caller with a private number is “Collections”.
Seven P.M. brings just over 90% probability of reliving the split with your ex as you change the Band-Aid on your heel.
Intermittent light sobs, followed by crying.
Our weather boy recommends a defiant, self-medicating swig of vodka to relieve or increase the pain, depending on who you need to manipulate.
The implacable cold front of technology is expected around dawn. Take extra care to place your smartphone in your back pants pocket, so when you sit down you can accidentally send your account director that text you drafted calling him a “sociopathic catamite”.
Something that retarded was bound to happen sooner or later.
Today, the sun will rise at 6:59 A.M. When the first golden rays of sunlight spill into the room, you’ll feel a burst of inspiration.
But don’t worry: You set the alarm for eight, and you’ll soon wake up.
This has been
Today’s Existential Forecast™ :
We face the world so you don’t have to!™
First saw the light of day on April 6th, 2016.
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