"I sure as sh*t seen everything now." - Bartender

I didn't start with that quote just because it's funny....I stuck it in because I can relate.  When it comes to motorcycle "clubs" there is a part of me that admires the so called "outlaw biker".  They turned riding in the wind into something to live for.  They made the motorcycle the cornerstone of their identity and it's the metaphor for their personal freedom.  Hollywood romanticizes this image.  In fact, many outlaw bikers envision themselves as social rebels who promote personal freedoms, by exercising their right to choose and their freedom to associate. 

I figured I've seen pretty much everything in all my years on this earth, but I was caught off guard by the number of comments  from people who expressed outrage here and on many other motorcycle "boards" about the topic of large 1%er "clubs" trying to dominate thru intimidation and impose their will on other clubs. I didn't even write the article, but the comments had a life of their own!  Sometimes clubs are forced into, or willingly accept, "support" roles for a 1%er club. Smaller clubs who resist a large 1%er club have "voluntarily" been forcibly disbanded, e.g. told to hand over their colors or risk war.  In turf wars, patches feud not people, but people get hurt.

Should we care about 1%er business?  Not really.   The "hornet theory" (leave them alone and they will leave you alone) has served most of us motorcycle enthusiasts well.  We've certainly read press reports that the larger 1%er MCs are rivals with each other and have fought over territory, patch rivalry and other issues...as the local CoC (Confederation of Clubs) work to eliminate most of these interclub issues.  But this isn't about 1%er rivalry.  It's about the Oregon Veterans Motorcycle Association (OVMA or cached version HERE), a legally registered non-profit organization with a membership of 600 and 12 chapters state-wide, who have been ordered to close its doors by October 24th by a 1%er "club" in Oregon. 

I do care about my personal rights.  I'm talking about the constitution and the right of free assembly, the right to privacy, the right of free association and the right to defend ourselves against oppressors, both foreign and domestic.  These are the very rights that I connected to those social rebels, the so called outlaw biker who has been vocal in evangelizing those freedoms for all.  But isn't this hypocrisy?

The issue of "clubs" preying on each other which then spills over to preying on all of us...means you and I in the biker community loose.  I grew up in a time when everyday life was simple...you worked, obeyed the law, cared for your family, looked out for your neighbors and respected your country.  At least that was the creed of the working class, which does most of the of the country's heavy lifting.  How is this any different than the "Crips" or "El Norte" street gang doing their best to instill fear in local area residents?  If certain groups among us are successful of shutting down a legal non-profit veterans organization then who is the next target from the mainstream motorcycle clubs or riding associations?  Is it the Harley Owners Group, Honda Riders Club of America or the BMW Riders Association?  Or maybe it's the Patriot Guard Riders, who provide funeral escorts for military veterans?

A larger issue is the very real dangers regarding laws and legislation that is not specific and general in nature with regard to "clubs" or gangs and how those clubs are defined. When laws and legislation are not specific or is left to individuals or even the court's interpretation and discretion... we should have cause for concern. It's very likely that some opportunistic politician will leverage this situation, evangelize how Biker gangs are out of control in Oregon and use it to introduce a bill in Salem that will limit motorcycle association rights.  They are probably scheduling a press briefing right now to tell us how its "good for the motorcycle economy"! 

Don't believe it's possible?  Then check out how Myrtle Beach decided to eliminate motorcycle rallies! Where is the line on a rally vs. an event in the legal system?  Well the attorney's will get wealthy because the litigation is starting and it's the first of motorcycle association rights that effect you.

So, in the interest to educate the motorcycle enthusiasts of the northwest mark your calendar on October 25th.  It's called "Free The Colors", a grassroots initiative in Oregon inspired by "Pappy" and I'm helping to bring visibility.  See more information HERE.  On that day every rider regardless of club affiliation should openly and peacefully support the OVMA's courageous stand against intimidation.

Let's exercise our right to peaceful assembly, to choose and defend our personal freedom of association with the OVMA while honoring our veterans.  I'm just one person advocating for a just society.  Now excuse me while I go rent a Mary Poppins video and buy a popsicle for little Billy (before he gets hooked on meth)...

OVMA photo courtsey of web site.  Legal books courtsey of  VBI.

Känner mig lite nere och deppig idag. Känner mig så ensam och tom, vill inte vara själv. Tur jag har barnen iaf.

Vi sitter och kollar på Mary Poppins, en underbar film som jag ville att barnen skulle se. Vi har fredagsmys, äter lite chips och ostbågar. Barnen kastade sig i bilen när jag hämtade dem hos dagmamman idag, -skynda dig mamma vi ska ju ha fredagsmys, sa båda. Annars brukar iaf Gustav bli arg och besviken när jag ska hämta för jag kommer mitt i leken.

Give me a crew of 160 people, and I get to know most of them. Total strangers? Not afraid to chat them up (Unless they're a hot guy, but really can you blame me on that one? I guess you can; I get so intimidated sometimes...). I could schmooze all day. I like to entertain, and laugh, and cheer people up. So, I wonder whether or not my escaping the reality of daily transactions is due to exhaustion from performing, or because I am not allowed (or allowing myself) to perform enough. I'll be honest that I find making people laugh to be quite energizing, so what part of me feels like I need a break from it? What part of me has me thinking that I don't enjoy people, when really I do?

I think that it may be part of my "training." Society doesn't want people who just chat and cajole all the time! No, dammit! They want workers! (Hey! I work hard! I just talk a lot, too. "Work first then slack" is my motto...) I remember this first became an issue in Grade 1. My teacher was the appropriately named Mrs. Savage, and she hated children. I think it was mostly precocious young girls that found her ire, because Jackie, one of the neighbourhood girls I used to hang out with (and another bright child), also got the brunt of her mockery and subtle mental torture.

Basically, I got labelled as a "social butterfly" and was forced to sit all by myself in a darkened corner of the classroom. In my loneliness, I would desperately try to talk to anyone who had to visit the classroom sink, usually older kids getting things for the overhead projector unit, and then get in trouble for it.

Mrs. Savage then decided that I was being anti-social. Back then I was upset, but now, I'm like "Really?" because I'm pretty sure you stuck me in a corner, and told me not to talk to anyone.

After that, she decided that I was a mental retard, so we had I.Q. tests performed. Lo and behold! Danielle could read at a Grade 3 level, and was in no way behind her age group in any other think-y areas. It just went on and on; I wasn't the only student that got the brunt of her mad (literally!) teaching skillz.

I used to feign sickness to get out of school; I totally got busted, because, well, 6 year olds aren't the most tricksy people in the world (it was the "magical" recovery time, I'm thinking, I shouldn't have recovered as soon as I was off school property, damn).

Anyways, I wasn't necessarily encouraged to be social in any of my endeavours. My friends had to live next door for me to visit them for play dates. School was for learning, not social galas. And really looking back at my upbringing, parental and otherwise, and I am astounded that I ended up with any social skills at all. I know I got taught manners straight out of the gate, but making friends, and the like? Dad sat in front of the telly all the time and Mom sat in front of a book all the time. I'm lucky it sort of comes naturally to me, because I am not sure that it is the same for all people (true comic/sci-fi geeks, anyone?).

Hmmm, I kind of wandered off my original topic, which, in my mind's eye, had more to do with Mary Poppins, because today is the hallowed occasion of Dame Julie Andrews' birthday!

I've already mentioned that I love children's movies, "Labyrinth" and "Bedknobs and Broomsticks" being two favourites, but who could resist the sugary sweet stylings of Mary Poppins? The movie was all about not hiding in fear (my original segue, butchered now, you have my apologies), but about embracing life in all it's random glory. Dick Van Dyke singing "Chim-chim-cher-ee" in his mournful way was entrancing to me as a child, as much as the joyful park romp "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious." I think everyone can probably sing along to "Let's Go Fly a Kite," which is a rousing anthem for seizing the day.

I want to be Mary Poppins.

I think that some people would prefer to just know her, but I would love to be as savvy, smart, patient, and strong as the imaginary Nanny. I can't picture anyone else playing her but Dame Julie Andrews, and somehow by proxy, I suppose this means that I would love to be her as well. If you look at her life, it is about overcoming obstacles and grace under fire. Who wouldn't want to cultivate a little DJA in their lives? I'm going to start right now!

Mrs. Savage certainly could have used some grace and love. After all, how can you be so cheap about being loving, if you're not greedily hoarding what "little" loving you think you're receiving-even I could tell you that's not how love works, silly!

Oh, and Happy B-day Dame Julie Andrews! With best wishes from us for many more!

Exhibit A: Requiem for a Day Off

Exhibit B: Scary Poppins

Exhibit C: Redeeming Shawshank

These examples show that with a bit of clever editing, you can make a movie look like something it definately isn't. But try to watch them muted and see if they convey the same mood. The power of music in these trailers is so great that even though we all know what they are about, it's hard not to take the bait created by the remixers.

Later This Week: Haiku Album Review

I have been working on an entry about the Wall Street FreakOut every night this week. I know you think it shouldn't be that difficult. What the hell, the NY Times and every other paper have been posting massive articles on their site like every two minutes. Well in my defense, the NY Times is not attempting to draw parallels between the current financial crisis and the movie "Mary Poppins" like I am!! I suppose you would come back with "Sarah, that's because it's irrelevant. The run on the bank scene has nothing to do with what's going on right now. And by the way, why wouldn't you reference the more famous bank scene in "It's a Wonderful Life?!" At this point I would be really offended and I'd be all, "Look, this is SARAHcentric, go to some other a-hole-centric if you want to read about "It's a Wonderful Life"!

"Sarah, don't be like that..."

"Whatever, you were rude!"

"I was just trying to help. "Mary Poppins" and Wall Street just don't quite make sense to me. Besides, people are a little sensitive about this now...oh my god, are you crying?!"

"Of course I am, do you know me?! And yes, I get that people are sensitive. Why do you think it's taking me so long! I'm a disaster!!"

And so on and so on.

I'm afraid Sarahcentric readers will have to go into the weekend unsure of their financial futures and how Jane and Michael Banks are responsible for all of this. In the meantime, feel free to chew on these morsels over the weekend.

I finished "The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao". It was so good I googled the author Junot Diaz to see if he was single. Seriously. (He is not). But this is what happens to me when I love a book so much. It's not enough that I read and recommend it. I have to absorb the pages into my whole being and see if I can make it a part of my life going forward. To be honest with you, I don't know if it's even a pleasant feeling to read something this good. I use phrases like "This book is so awesome I'm going to throw up". Gross.

Here are my two favorite lines from Oscar Wao so you can puke, too.

"It's never the changes we want that change everything"

"...Many waters waiting to become a river."

I'm so jealous and in love with Junot Diaz I can't stand it.

More importantly, I am currently obsessed with pumpernickel. I saw a fellow Queens-ian on the train yesterday eating a pumpernickel bagel with cream cheese. I don't know if I've ever seen anyone actually purchase a pumpernickel bagel in my life. What the f--k is it?!

Do you serve it with hot cross buns, mincemeat pie, and other old-fashioned treats?

Did Rumpelstilsken invent it?

Is it the favorite bread of Gargamel and Azrael?

Is it an evil bagel from the Land of Mordor?

So here's your Sarahcentric assignment for the weekend. Please write a thoughtful comment on this blog which answers the following questions:

1. What do Jane and Michael Banks have to do with it?
2. Why do good books make you puke? Shouldn't it be the bad books?
3. What the f--k is pumpernickel?

Your deadline is Monday morning. Please use a number 2 pencil. We're old school around here.

:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::

Written by Robert B. Sherman

With tuppence for paper and strings,
you can have your own set of wings.
With your feet on the ground,
you're a bird in flight!
With your fist holding tight,
to the string of your kite!

Let's go fly a kite
Up to the highest height
Let's go fly a kite
And send it soaring
Up through the atmosphere
Up where the air is clear
Oh, let's go fly a kite!

When you send it flying up there,
all at once your lighter than air!
You can dance on the breeze,
over 'ouses and trees!
With your fist 'olding tight,
to the string your kite!

Let's go fly a kite
Up to the highest height
Let's go fly a kite
And send it soaring
Up through the atmosphere
Up where the air is clear
Oh, let's go fly a kite!

Lyrics & Audio: NIEHS

Stay awake, don't rest your head
Don't lie down upon your bed
While the moon drifts in the skies
Stay awake, don't close your eyes

Though the world is fast asleep
Though your pillow's soft and deep
You're not sleepy as you seem
Stay awake, don't nod and dream
Stay awake, don't nod and dream

Try this experiment:

1. Take your small child to the grocery store at 10 a.m. on a Saturday morning. (This experiment works only if you are a woman and if you have a small child. If you don't have your own, you could borrow one, with his or her parents' permission, but you would have to coach the child and, even with coaching, the needed spontaneity would be lacking.)
2. Dawdle in the Produce Section or the Baked Goods Aisle until your small child really has to pee. Alternatively, you could seem to disappear, though of course you would never let your small child out of your sight.
3. Eventually, your child will cry, with bloodcurdling urgency...
4. "Mom!"
5. Just before you scoop your child up to offer comfort or scuttle to the bathroom, take a quick look around. Dozens — if it is a large store, possibly hundreds — of women's heads will jerk, robotlike, in your direction. The owners of the pivoting heads will be mothers, and they will be experiencing the scientifically documented Head-Jerk Reaction, which was indelibly imprinted on their brain circuitry from the day their toddlers began to speak.

For years after I nursed my youngest baby, often when I heard a small child, any small child, yell "Mom!" I would experience milk let-down reflex. I am not exaggerating.

The A.D.D. mom with A.D.D. kids

My first child was a sweet, cuddly, non-A.D.D.-afflicted girl with a lively imagination and a love of books and dolls. She liked the stories that I had adored as a child — the Mary Poppins and Land of Oz books, the true tales of the Ingalls family, and many more — so, even as a single parent, I found mothering to be almost unmitigated joy. The peal of "Mom" was (and, oddly enough, remains) the sweetest sound of all sounds.

By the time Marian was ten, I had remarried and "started a new family." I gave birth to two boys within eighteen months. The older son, Jack, would eventually be diagnosed as having "the most profound case of ADHD" his counselor had ever seen. His younger brother, Eli, was more benignly attention-deficit-disordered.

If you are an A.D.D. parent with A.D.D. children, you sink or swim. Having been wisely parented, I knew enough not to let the quieter children slip through the cracks while the hyperactive ones were "acting out." So I became a Highly Structured A.D.D. Mom.

The first thing I did every morning, at 5 a.m. when I arose, was pray for strength. Then I meditated for serenity. Then I planned the day. One plan was never enough. I always had, in addition to Plan A, plans B through at least F.

For more than thirty years, I was an Active Parent, in the sense of having children living in the household — eating, throwing dirty clothes on the bathroom floor, bringing home stray dogs, needing rides to soccer practice and music lessons, and (more often than I care to remember) occasioning 3 a.m. phone calls from Officer Hardass asking me if I was the mother of whichever son was "acting out" at the time. I learned to be cautious in my reply. "Maybe," I would say. "Why do you ask?"

That's three decades of Structuring and going to court. Is it any wonder that now, in my solitude, I often decide to do Nothing in Particular, simply because I can?

eBay can wait

Accordingly, I am less aggressive than I could be in pursuit of my eBay store's success. I'm very good about responding to questions, notifying buyers that they've won my item and that they owe me $6.83, and shipping the stuff I've sold. I'm a bit slower to actually list the items on eBay in the first place. I think I'm intimidated by my own checklist.

I go to great lengths to build structure into my life, but I think it might be most beneficial, all around, to simply adopt a small child.

May Whoever Is On Duty bless you and your endeavors.  —Mary

"In every job that must be done, there is an element of fun". Mary Poppins (atual musa de Marc Jacobs*) já dizia isso em 1964. Nosso board desta semana, "A Spoonful of Sugar" evidencia a necessidade de bom-humor no dia-a-dia. Não é a gracinha gratuita, não é piada, é a busca da sociedade por um dia-a-dia mais leve, mais colorido e por vezes muito mais simples.

A versatilidade e o bom-humor estão nas roupas da nova coleção da estilista Carolina Herrera, que explica claramente que "o importante é fazer sonhar. Por isso, criei essas peças, porque são as que deixam as pessoas de bom humor". Peças para driblar a crise econômica, peças versáteis e coloridas, para serem combinadas entre si e usadas de dia ou de noite.

O bom-humor invade também os jardins e salas do Palácio de Versailles, com mais uma mostra irreverente do artista (pós) pop Jeff Koons, que quebra a tradição palacianda com seus "balões" escandalosamente coloridos e cortes inusitados para arbustos do jardim.

"A Spoonful of Sugar", o What is Now, What is Next da semana, indica a tendência do bom-humor e da simplicidade para as coisas cotidianas. E é sobre isso que falaremos ao longo da semana.

-------------------------------- 

* Aqui, uma foto do último desfile do estilista Marc Jacbos, com clara inspiração na musa Mary Poppins

B'way on B'way was hot, and I mean that in the literal sense. As soon as our last friend-related performance ended, we headed out in search of an air conditioned cafe. I split with my friends and made a pit stop at the bank where I was subsequently locked inside the ATM facility for 15 minutes with another bank patron. As we were banging on the glass to get ANYONE's attention, I felt a sting on my arm and saw a bee drop to the floor. I'm not allergic to bees to the point where I need to carry an epi-pen, but am allergic enough that my arm immediately began to swell to the size of an egg. Luckily a passing police officer saw our distress, swiped his ATM card, and released the door, setting us free. Hot, tired from the sun and slightly paniking about the ever-growing size of the egg on my arm, I hailed a cab home (not before grabbing an iced coffee from Starbucks first, which they gave me for free!)

Sitting here now freshly showered, minus one bee's stinger, I realized my day was helped along by various New Yorkers: the B'way on B'way staff that lead us to our special "artists' guest" area, the performers, the man in blue and his ATM card, the Starbucks barista and even my sympathetic cab driver, who waited in front of the grocery store (with the meter off) while I grabbed some miso paste for my sting -- an old trick for decreasing swelling. For all the times this city tears us apart, swallows us whole and spits us out, it truly is our fellow New Yorkers that make Manhattan a wonderful town.

-          Dopo aver trascorso dieci minuti a cercare le chiavi della macchina in casa, conscia di non avere quelle di riserva e che quindi - se non le trovavo - avrei dovuto saltare l’appuntamento dalla parrucchiera e presentarmi alla cena di questa sera in versione Maga Magò, ho sentito l’impellente necessità che qualcuno progetti un aggegino che permetta di chiamare gli oggetti con il telefonino. Che poi loro – in quanto oggetti – non rispondano, non è così importante: intanto l’umanità sarà riuscita ad entrare in casa o a ritrovare la propria macchina nel parcheggio multipiano. Se qualcuno lo realizza, io mio occupo del marketing. E so che, oltre a me, anche lei apprezzerebbe questa invenzione frutto della mia ingegnosità veneta e del progresso della tecnologia. Io, forse, al momento la apprezzerei più della scoperta della particella di dio del C.E.R.N. (no, forse questo non è vero).  

-          Piove. Dopo cinque giorni di caldo afoso trascorso in vestitini e stivali per coprire i peli e farli arrivare alla lunghezza giusta, questa mattina sono stata a fare la ceretta. E, appunto, adesso piove. Per me fare la ceretta è come per mio padre lavare la macchina o per mia madre i vetri: un gesto da non fare per assicurarsi cieli soleggiati.

-          Piove. E domani è sabato. Non ho dubbi che ascoltare la pioggia che fa tic tic sui lucernari mentre mi rotolo nel letto in un giorno di vacanza si classifichi tra i dieci migliori piccoli piaceri della vita. Speriamo che continui a piovere: se smette questa notte, dopo avermi rovinato la piega e sporcato le scarpe, mi incazzo.

-          Se potessi esprimere un desiderio, vorrei che arrivasse nel mio studio Mary Poppins e che, cantando Basta un poco di zucchero e la pillola va giù, schioccasse le dita e riordinasse gli scatoloni di libri, cancelleria, fogli e foglietti che dovrei riordinare dopo il trasloco. Ma dicono che Mary Poppins non esista.

Ho voglia di parlare di cose frivole perché, se parlassi di quelle serie, dovrei incazzarmi. Per esempio con Gentilini (e chi lo vota) per la sua ennesima sparata sulle moschee. O con la Lega che, se qualche idea buona sull’amministrazione dello Stato ce l’ha, non sa parlare l’italiano e sovrappone i discorsi sulla legalità a quelli riguardo l’immigrazione.

Insomma, per oggi mi prendo il lusso di stare leggera. E di mandare a fan culo tutti quelli che sparano cazzate convinti di rivelare verità indispensabili al destino dell’umanità.

D.W.

Beginning on the stage, Tomlinson soon graduated to feature films. His career was derailed by the second world war, in which he flew for the RAF. Upon returning to his acting he remained fairly firmly in the comedic and warm hearted genre of films, including several films alongside Peter Sellers. He had a reputation for being remarkably decent and thoroughly pleasant. His Disney roles towards the end of his career - including a turn in the first Herby movie and Bedknobs and Broomsticks. The Poppins role led to a friendship with Walt Disney himself, and although he originally thought the film was going to be a huge flop he was delighted to be proven wrong. I've heard stories of how he would often sing 'Let's Go Fly A Kite' with much gusto in public when asked even into his eighties.

After a career in film which spanned almost 40 years he retired in his early 60s to spend time with his family. I think that's a bit of a shame, but it's a decision that I can entirely understand and respect. He left a legacy of tremndous family entertainment that has enriched the lives of countless children in the years since, and will continue to do so for many, many years to come. In June 2000 he died peacefully in his sleep aged 83.

This isn't meant to be a proper tribute to the man - merely something I leave online in the hope that someone will read it and maybe research some of the wonderful stories about this incredibly pleasant person. He remains one of the few people I'm genuinely saddened I never had the opportunity to meet.

I så fall hade jag inte sett det långa godståget som var målat i de tråkigaste bruna färger byråkraterna i Färghittapånämnden kunde hitta på.

I så fall hade jag inte sett den något tveksamme korpmålvakten på Ånäsfältet som suckade när domaren blåste igång spelet i ösregnet. Tolv sekunder senare plockade han - av försvarsspelet att döma - ut den långt ifrån sista bollen ur nätmaskorna.

Jag hade inte heller nästan krockat med killen i just den där typiska travspelaroutfiten som bromsade in på Ånäsvägen. Sliten volvo, blåjeans, fulbrun pluska, för kort skinnjacka, loafers med tofsar och snabba steg rätt in i spelbutiken. Jag hade ingen klocka, men den var definitivt fem i spelstopp.

Och jag hade missat regnställstjejens tysta drömmar om ett soligt hem när hon tittade på lägenhetsannonserna på Redbergsplatsen

Jag hade bommat de huttrande fyra som huserade på Halta Lotta - för att inte tala om deras tre olycksbröder av något sämre skick som ockuperade Olskrokstorget. Två av dem - Bill och Bull, gissar jag - upprepade frasen 'det är tur att det regnar'. Den tredje stod och sov under gatukökets baldakin.

Älskade paraply, om jag bara använder dig i tropiskt och skönt regn - kan du hjälpa mina Mary Poppins-ambitioner då?

 Mary Poppins meets the dump, Salvos, hobos!  Who would have ever thought?! It’s so weirdly wonderful! The hats, the skirts, the blouses!  –squeals- Ohhh so delightful!  Not forgetting the weird shoes! It’s so great to see nipped waists are still in, and that blue and yellow worn together is not tacky. But there was only one problem, did Marc walk the finale in a… SKIRT?

(click to enlarge)

XXASAB

What caught my attention the most on Marc's show were the astonishing details perfectly harmonized with every look, coming along with all the gorgeous accessories.

I was gonna say that I'm bored already with all the plaid shirts everywhere, but it seems that Mr. Jacobs still want us to walk around in some western Scottish ethnic meets Mary Poppins sort of accumulation!

The way he combined patterns of every kind in some unusual way was very pleasant as well.

It just felt more like a fall collection, which I don't see any wrong since we're living in a global warming era where every weather kind is possible, right?

Die Kritiker wurden nicht müde, als mögliche Inspirationen x Filme und y Romanfiguren aufzuzählen. Ja, es ist ein bisschen Mary Poppins darin, auch ein bisschen Irma la Douce, ein bisschen Our little farm - und nein, ich finde den Vergleich mit einem Amerikaner in Paris schlicht abgedroschen. Marc Jacobs steht über dem. Mein Vergleich gilt eher seinen Mitstreitern. Ich fand in dieser Kollektion Hüften von Vivienne Westwood wieder, verrückte Stoffmixe à la John Galliano und einen Endauftritt im Rock wie Jean-Paul Gaultier. Alles Modeikonen! Marc Jacobs gehört längst zu ihnen und doch hat er seine Position mit dieser Kollektion noch einmal gestärkt.

Fotos: style.com

Pisces (Feb. 19-March 20)
You're more involved with people than ever.  Exciting partnerships are in the near future.  Watch out for sexy new office-mates if you're not feeling up to being seduced.

Aries (March 21-April 19)
Coffee?  Bah!  You've got enough energy right now you could shave a herd of yaks and still go for a jog after dinner.  And people will notice.  Um, the energy, not the shaved yaks.  Although people will probably notice them too.

Taurus (April 20-May 20)
What's that saying about people who live in glass houses?  You are surrounded by so many windows of opportunity you'll be able to coin your own soon.  "People who live in glass houses should look damn fine nekkid!"

Gemini (May 21-June 20)
"Home is where the heart is, so your real home's in your chest!"  Captain Hammer said it well.  Now that you've figured out where your true home is, go out and do wonderful things for the world!  Or stay home and play video games.  It's up to you.

Cancer (June 21-July 22)
The wind is changing!  Grab your umbrella and carpet bag, and make like Mary Poppins.  Luckily, you've got friends to help you through the hurricanes.

Leo (July 23-Aug. 22)
Work, work, work.  Sigh.  Hey!  Doesn't have to be boring - take stock of all your good qualities and find a new job.  Or use your charms to talk a raise out of your boss.  Or go to work dressed like a chicken.  (If your job happens to be dressing like a chicken, go to work as yourself and see if anybody notices.)

Virgo (Aug. 23-Sept. 22)
Here's a random list of things that may or may not be good for you this week:  romance, hospitals, show business, sports, love, vacations, children, baking, splashing in puddles, laundry, money, art, socializing, music, clowns, whistling, whittling, and zebras.

Libra (Sept. 23-Oct. 22)
Vivacious.  Gotta love that word!  Anything that has two V's in it has to be good.  Vavasors. Vivaldi. Viverrid. Vivisect.  OK maybe not that last one.  Tip for maintaining mental stability for the day: don't do an image search for vivisect.  Really, don't.

Scorpio (Oct. 23-Nov. 21)
This week has never happened before in your life and will never happen again!  You'll be so busy hanging out with your friends and telling your friends you need alone time and don't want to hang out that you probably won't even notice when it's over.  Oh well, the juggling skill will be useful when you run away to join the circus.

Sagittarius (Nov. 22-Dec. 21)
You're in the spotlight!  Important people will notice you.  Use the bright light to tidy up some of the dark places in your life.  Like the garage . . .  the rats are beginning to mutate . . .

Capricorn (Dec. 22-Jan. 19)
Lady L*ck is with you!  Woo her well.  Wear lots of green.  Keep an eye out for four leaf clovers.  Put on your favourite sweater.  Join the horseshoes club at the local senior's centre.  Eat Lucky Charms for breakfast.  Ready?  Now go buy a lottery ticket.