Sun sign horoscopage 9th—15th November, 2009

On Monday, Venus’s (Venus’?) recent revelation that black is the new black leads her to Pluto, who lends her his Nick Cave CDs and gives her tips on over-applying eyeliner. She sleeps in it, but Tuesday’s Moon assures her that the dead panda look is very Now. Meanwhile a bored Jupiter challenges the Sun to a Scalextric duel, with kinetic results.

Picking pieces of teeny 1966 Ford GT40 from the hair and nostrils, Mercury and Uranus spend Wednesday on their knees with superglue and a set of precision screwdrivers, souping up, super-charging, and making quiet vroom vroom noises under their breath.

Neptune steps on a forgotten exhaust pipe and swears enigmatically. Who else can swear enigmatically? Mercury tells him to sod off but stores the elusive obscenity for future use.

At the weekend the Sun suddenly realises what Neptune said and flushes his head down the loo, all grownup like. Uranus catches sight of Venus and chucks her the cotton wool balls, while Saturn quietly preaches the word of Gok to the lord of the underworld.

Meanwhile Mars sits alone, swaying slightly, listening to the voices. The voices that tell him how special he is, how brave, how bold, how splendid…



On Monday, your secret benefactor sets you up with lodgings, a plump bank account, and a position in the city. Tuesday sees you swanking* in new clothes with new friends. You find Wednesday’s rumour that your benefactor is a hardened convict with rough palms secretly arousing even as you press your cologned hanky to your nose. It all gets a bit hazy on Thursday. You come to at the end of the week, alone in a deserted house, in a musty wedding frock, with a rodent problem, clocks that won’t work, and one hell of a headache. You couldn’t make it up.


Yes, you can have a pony. It’ll come in burger form with lettuce, pickles, and mayonnaise, but this is all about compromise, isn’t it. On Sunday you put your eye out in a bra-related incident.


I’ve got things to do, Gemini, could I leave you to do the talking? Yup? Ta, I appreciate it. I’ll meet you back here this time, next week. Bring your scrapbook. What’s that? No, I don’t know my mobile number off the top of my head, sorry.


Your week is warm sun, complimentary fizz, and oranges straight from the tree. It is mellow al fresco evenings with seafood pasta and a carafe of decent red. The weekend is Heathrow Terminal 2.


Use your talents this week, Leo — be bold, be beautiful, be oblivious. Those highlights take courage and that tan takes application. Push pineapple, shake the tree.


Yes, those could be flowers; that could be sunshine. Yes, you can eat all the pies. Yes, the duster tickles; yes, the pinny becomes you. Yes, yours are dancing feet, and your heels click louder than your knees. Yes, it’s about bloody time. Yes.


It’s not as nice being nice as it once was, is it Libra. A smile should be a smile, not a strategy. When you saw your grimace in the mirror even you weren’t convinced. This is a bit of a worry. You can vent this new pressure with a well-stocked cellar — have a word with Aquarius’s boss about where to get supplies.


Growl and they’ll pat you on the head. Snarl and they’ll chuck you under the chin. Your well-crafted curse will bring ruffled hair and an awwww. Don’t let the sunshine get you down, bonny wee Scorpio, on the plus side you could get away with murder.

(Are those ribbons? They suit you.)


Wednesday’s the day for dropping milieu, obverse, colossus, and frottage into conversation. Thursday finds you forgetting the word for … um … those tall, rough things, you know, with striggly bits under the ground and spraddled doo dahs up top, with the papery bits that drop off come Autumn. Birds like ‘em. You know the ones. Good luck with that second interview.


Build it, and they will ask if you have planning permission. The jobsworth buggers. Try bribery or blackmail.


Am I the last person to discover that finding a stripper pole in someone’s living room probably means they just like to keep fit? Twirling on a pole is, it turns out, toning, beneficially aerobic, and not at all seedily daft. Bear this in mind this week, Aquarius, when that load of butt plugs, love eggs, anal beads, nipple clamps, squirting dildos and three fork speculums tumbles out of the bottom drawer of your boss’s filing cabinet. He’s simply beginning a new fitness regime. Though it might be an idea to keep a spare fiver handy for his knicker elastic, just in case.


God, you’re clingy. Drop that dependency rubbish, it’s sweaty and inconvenient in crowded lifts. Haven’t you yet realised that you don’t have to hang on to someone else to get through basic everyday life? If you want to be brave and independent, think of someone brave and independent and pretend to be them. Nobody does this better than you, Pisces—nobody—it’s what mutability is all about. However, there’s doing it well and doing it pants. Being the change you wish to see in the world does not involve wearing a bobbed ginger wig and fellating your flatmate’s boyfriend.

*That’s swanking, Aries. With an ess.


distracted astrologer 9th--15th November 09Look, no overglazed lemon/olive themed spoon rests. This itty bitty porcelain astrologer found me in Sorrento. He’s no bigger than the first knuckle joint of my forefinger, and is very, very clever.


6 Responses to “Sun sign horoscopage 9th—15th November, 2009”

  1. 1 Gruff November 8, 2009 at 5:53 pm

    On Tuesday I will eye my Burger King with suspicion.

  2. 2 distractedastrologer November 8, 2009 at 5:59 pm

    And approach it, clicking your tongue, with a head collar and a carrot.

  3. 3 Anth November 8, 2009 at 6:16 pm

    Would that be all the pies, all week? Brilliant! Meat and tatty please. With sauce.

  4. 4 Miriamaok November 9, 2009 at 11:35 am

    I fear I may need some vallium to get through this week – the drama!

  5. 6 Michelle November 20, 2009 at 6:03 pm

    I love that owl sculpture. Seriously.

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