Another Vintage Sexist Astrology Competition

Filed in Horoscopes

Right, here we go again. Three hours off Mercury going Direct and here is another Vintage Sexist Astrology Competition.  Tell a funny story (in the one site comments, please) about this image to win one of the prizes below. Or just provide your own incisive “Revolutionary Road” style commentary…this is wide-open and will be judged on Friday!

The prizes are:

  • A Wealth Wallet – practical, snazzy, well-designed and magicked up with as much oomph as can go into one actually useful thing.
  • A Love Warp 9 Consult – the strongest dates, edge insights into your natal Venus and current astral phase.
  • The Mercurial Key Ring – Your go-to talisman for agility, eloquence and the opening of doors…
  • Twenty-Four Months Mega Mystic (including Lifetime Access to the Astro-School) – this can be added onto an existing membership or gifted.
  • Six times Pentacles candles (the Cassia, Fig and Mandarin ones – i stopped selling them as too tricky to ship but there are some left.)

So, please go for it and have fun. Also, you don’t have to stick to this being Leo. Is there another sign of the Zodiac that is actually more difficult for vintage sexist astrology husbands to handle? IS SHE EVEN REALLY GOING HOME TO “MOTHER”?  I think it’s probably the mother-ship. She’s probably a nuclear physicist with the Manhattan Project and he did not even notice, is still trying to mansplain to her how to boil the kettle.

Winners Will Be Announced By Me In The Comments On Friday. I don’t even know what Moon that is. Mercury going Direct is frazzling.

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Email Mystic if you would like to trial for a few weeks first.

79 thoughts on “Another Vintage Sexist Astrology Competition

  1. She paused dramatically in the wide open doorway, her 7 inch stilettos imperceptibley tapping. Of course she was not really leaving, the suitcase empty her coat just a prop.

    He did seem genuinely startled when she darkly suggested enough was enough so with a dancers grace she raised her chin, spun on her heel and flicked her perfectly coiffure right out of the room.

    Her fiery indignation had cooled by the time she hit the bottom step and she slowed to a prowl as he played his part in the game of love

  2. I LOVE these!

    Okay so it is once again very tricky to narrow the epic entries down to just five winners but i have:

    24 Months Mega Mystic – Yumi
    Ren – Wealth Wallet
    Gem Yogi – the Pentacles Candles
    Batshley – the Love Warp consult
    Sankt Freudian – the Mercury Key Ring

    Please email me to claim or otherwise i will chase you up in the week….thank you to everyone for the wit and whimsy!

    • MALE NARRATOR (Voiceover): GIRLS WHOSE SIGN IS LEO (JULY 23 – AUG. 22) ARE THE MOST DIFFICULT WIVES FOR HUSBANDS TO HANDLE. 
      SCENE: Middle-aged LEO HUSBAND stands in the entryway of his perfect suburban home with his back towards the viewer, cryptically standing on a pile of newspaper with his shoes on. His palms are up in the the passive-aggressive and exasperated WTF? position. A few feet away, LEO LAURIE, in her perky blonde ponytail, stands facing away from her spouse in a jungle green dress with kitten black heels pointed towards open front door, nose upturned in disgust as her left hand clasps at a large suitcase mysteriously labeled “MOTHER.”
      
Exhaling with obvious displeasure, she marches out the front door and slams the door behind her. 

    • NARRATOR: THEIR TEMPESTUOUS, SELFISH, AND UNPREDICTABLE NATURE CAN ONLY BE RIVALED BY GIRLS WHO HAVE THE MISFORTUNE OF ALSO BEING A FIRE SIGN UNDER SAGITTARIUS (NOV. 22 – DEC. 21), WHOSE AVARICIOUS LUST FOR PERSONAL SPACE AND FREEDOM HAS AN UNFORTUNATE TENDENCY TO FLARE UP DURING THE HOLIDAY SEASON.


    • SAGGO SALLY with aviator glasses perched on top of her messy, chocolate brown beehive hair luxuriates in a claw-foot bathtub, gold-flecked soap bubbles spilling over onto the checkerboard tile floor and dampening the edges of a Moroccan textile printed bath mat.

    • SAGGO SALLY: Darling, I’m going to miss you so much over the holidays when I’m in Eurasia recreating the Silk Road journey from a 20th century feminist perspective! Can’t wait to tell you what it’s like to scale Mt. Everest a second time. And I am so excited to finally learn the art of Kama Sutra palm-reading along the Ganges River during New Year’s Eve. Girls, did you want any souvenirs or postcards from the Taj Mahal?

      SAGGO HUSBAND: You were supposed to pick my mother up three hours ago for our Thanksgiving dinner. I just got off the phone with her and she is LIVID. Don’t you ever think about anyone other than yourself?

    • NARRATOR: SIMILAR IN CAPRICIOUS FEMININE INSTABILITY LIKE THE OTHER FIRE SIGNS, GIRLS WHOSE SIGN IS ARIES (MARCH 21 – APRIL 19) MAKE FOR SLIGHTLY BETTER WIVES THAN LEO AND SAGITTARIUS. THEY MAY BE MORE THAN WILLING TO MAKE PLANS, DO HOUSEHOLD CHORES, AND ORGANIZE YOUR VACATION, BUT AT WHAT COST TO YOUR OWN SANITY AND PEACE OF MIND? 
      SCENE: Tomboy ARIES ALICE with a jet black page cut, copper-tinted sunglasses, and a mysterious scar cut diagonally across her forehead is beaming with manic joy as her glove-covered hands grip the steering wheel of a sleek red convertible, zooming past curious onlookers in a suburban, tree-lined neighborhood. A crimson scarf thrown jauntily around her neck trails behind her like a cape as she zooms in and out with terrifying precision in-between slower paced cars.
      The backseat is packed to the gills with camping gear, a pair of skis, mountain climbing equipment, several bathing suits, snorkeling gear, and inexplicably, a viking helmet. ARIES HUSBAND is sitting in the passenger seat clutching a giant bundle of cash in his arms, looking terrified for his life.
      ARIES ALICE: Sorry for the last-minute stop at the MOTHER! Had to say a quick hello to my girls before our grand holiday adventure. Also, just woke up with the most niggling hunch to place all our life savings on RED on my favorite roulette wheel. I checked my daily horoscope over breakfast after my 4 AM ice cold shower—I know today is Monday, Tuesday is usually my lucky day for placing big bets, you know that— and somehow I just KNEW this morning we would strike gold and win enough money to pay off our debtors and also get us a couples skydiving and tightrope walking lesson for our anniversary vacation in the Grand Canyon next year.  
      SCENE: As she makes a sharp, last-minute turn which inspires a cacophony of car honks all around her, her muscular arms ripple with pleasure, bringing attention to the sailor anchor tattoo on her left bicep and a curvy, V-shaped occult marking on her right bicep. 
      ARIES ALICE: Now don’t be so upset with me, my dear! I just didn’t have the time to ask you about it! And I’ll make it up to you for being such a good sport. I’ll pitch our tent and cook up an amazing campfire dinner tonight while you go to bed early and relax, because we have a busy day tomorrow for our 30-mile hike up the mountains and along the hibernating bear caves. How about after our early sunrise hike, we go skinny-dipping at my favorite river bend and I’ll catch you a salmon or two with my bare hands, which should cover us for breakfast and lunch? How about it, old sport? Deal?

    • NARRATOR: COME TO THINK OF IT, IT IS BEST ADVISED THAT YOU DO NOT MARRY A FIRE SIGN WOMAN, EVER. 


      SCENE: The sun has already set and the sky is in the early stages of twilight, with a few stars peaking out through the smoggy sky. In her golden Ford Thunderbird, LEO LAURIE drives up to a seashell-shaped saloon with pink neon lights that say MOTHER  in the nondescript edges of town surrounded by warehouses and shady-looking alleyways. She scurries into the building with dark-tinted windows, clutching at her suitcase labeled “MOTHER.”


      NARRATOR: AS A MATTER OF FACT, STAY AWAY FROM FIRE SIGN WOMEN COMPLETELY, EVEN IN CASUAL DATING AND SHORT-TERM ROMANCE.

      SCENE: The interior of a dressing room inside MOTHER. SCORPIO SAM, a Bettie Page lookalike but more vampire-ish, is wearing knee-high black boots and leather tassel pasties, and wanly putting the finishing touches on her personal taxidermy project, restoring a dead possum she found on the side of the road during one of her trance-induced full moon walks, which she likes to work on in-between her burlesque sets and skimming through stacks of fan letters from married men with a predatory, pitying smirk on her lips before ripping them to shreds with her claw-like fingernails and burning them in her cauldron during the Dark Moon phases of the lunar calendar.

      In the far dark corner of a dressing room, AQUARIUS ANNA is hibernating in a cocoon-shaped pod hanging from the ceiling while wearing an unusually cut metallic silver romper and a surprisingly stylish DIY aluminum foil skull cap decorated with paper clips and sequins, busily communing with her extraterrestrial spirit guides on what her next ritual-art-meditation-cosmic-communal healing strip tease art performance should look like and sound like on a vibrational, energetic, spiritual and maybe sexual frequency. 

      LEO LAURIE, hastily undressing, throws her suitcase open and tosses aside her jungle green dress, ponytail holder, and black kitten heels onto the carpeted floor in a frenzied mess. She trying to squeeze into her golden leopard-print bodysuit, curl her unusually long eyelashes, and perm her hair into a glorious halo (MANE?) at the same time. 

      SCORPIO SAM: MOTHER is so going to fire you the next time you are late.  

      LEO LAURIE: MOTHER may be a total CRAB, but she is not dumb enough to let go of the main attraction.


      SCENE: In the main room of MOTHER, a zodiac-themed burlesque BDSM striptease night club bar and gambling saloon and astrological consultation center all rolled into one. LEO LAURIE is onstage in her full Leo regalia, crooning into a microphone, carried by a small fleet of muscular men stripped down to their yellow briefs, their oiled abs reflecting the candles in various corners and circular tables (each circular table depicting a different phase of the moon in chronological order) and silver-colored counters that are erotically lighting up an otherwise darkened space, not unlike the inside of an underwater cave or a very giant seashell. As the muscled men gently lay her onto the floor, LEO LAURIE in her golden stiletto heels begins walking onto the backs of more muscular men blindfolded, oiled, and stripped down to their golden yellow, who are lying down side-by-side blindfolded and gagged, eager to be given physical pain by the star attraction the night. 

      MOTHER, the Cancerian 55-year-old woman in a semi-sheer pearly nightgown elegantly showing off her magnificent breasts, whose tough maternal instincts have kept this space alive for the last several decades in spite of complaints from conservative neighbors, looks up at the stage and rolls her eyes as she serves one of her long-time and favorite patrons a plate of her freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, and a glass of cereal milk laced with a shot of vodka. LEO LAURIE has been arriving late for her shifts because she keeps practicing a scene with her husband from a movie she is auditioning for, an extremely banal comedy where one of the opening scenes involves a Stepford-like wife leaving her chauvinistic husband in a dramatic huff out the front door with a suitcase in hand. MOTHER knows about it and everyone else knows about it because LEO LAURIE can’t stop talking about how this one bit role will inevitably lead to the stardom she so deserves in the Hollywood.
        
      It is the tail end of MUTABLE MONDAY HAPPY HOUR. VIRGO VALERIE, in her historically accurate Florence Nightingale costume (she likes to save her meticulously ironed Catholic school girl costume and snow white knee socks for the weekends and holidays), is administering rope play with precise pressure on a patron, but using a roll of bandages instead of rope while noting silently with a slightly wrinkled nose that her patron has used too much laundry detergent on his clothes AGAIN, generating a cloyingly artificial clean smell that makes her want to run out of the room in disgust. She wonders how she can diplomatically bring this up at the end of his session after he pays without coming across as overly prescriptive while maintaining the integrity of her historical persona and being sexy at the same time. (It took months of protest for VIRGO VALERIE to finally convince MOTHER and the rest of the MOTHER staff to stop using scented candles with artificial fragrances in the space during her shifts and even when she wasn’t there; even if no one else noticed the horrible scent and cared about inhaling toxic fumes that could cause cancer and other chronic physical ailments, just thinking of all the chemicals in the air made her want to faint with dizziness and throw up every single time.) 
      GEMINI GISELLE with her asymmetrical bob, wearing a racy bondage dress that is black on the left half and white on the right half, bored out of her mind as always, contemplates adding a mind-altering space dust concoction to the half-finished drink belonging to her rich but incredibly boring patron who tips her generously every Monday (for dripping hot candle wax on one side of his hairy back while simultaneously stroking the other side with a peacock feather with his arms and legs tied down to all four poled corners of a bed). She knows he is enthralled by the fact that she can say “I want to go home with you tonight and perform degrading sexual acts on you while roleplaying all your favorite New Wave French cinema actresses” in 10 different foreign languages she has been fluent in since her teens and rattle off her encyclopedic knowledge of goddess worship occult symbols from different world cultures. 

      While she is making fascinating conversation about the various conspiracy theories that fall under the Venn diagram of the World Series, Italian mafia, and black market art deals, GEMINI GISELLE is already planning what she is going to do for the rest of the night. As soon as her shift is over, she simply wants to go home and work through her stack of unfinished New York Times crossword puzzles and start finishing the left bottom corner of the 1,000 piece puzzle of Duchamp’s Nude Descending A Staircase while playing illegally purchased underground jazz records on full blast and wearing one of ten new expensive wigs she ordered on a whim from an obscure mail order fashion catalogue from Tokyo during the last full moon. 


      Off-screen, CAPRICORN CARLA is taking a smoke break in the tiny administrative office hidden behind one of the hallways, pouring over the stack of business cards she acquired from her admiring male patrons over her shifts in the last week. She wants to see if any of the last names match up with the list of well-off bankers and investors she researched during one of her off-days at the local business bureau and weekly gossip rags listing the latest exploits of the most eligible, richest and handsome male members of the upper echelons of this unbearably boring town.  Surely one of them would fall in love with her and invest in her impeccable psychic ability to forecast the hottest property deals and underrated stock options. 


      Off-screen, LIBRA LISA is at home in her impeccably designed bachelorette pad, taking a well-deserved break on her expensive vintage couch after spending the last hour readjusting and recalibrating the feng shui of her elegant living room according to the current astral terrain. As she blows a perfectly symmetrical ring of opium from her exquisitely shaped pink lips, she considers sending a casual, perfume-scented platonic letter to her best friend TAURUS TARA who also does not work on Mondays but makes a killing on her shifts having private clients pay her to give HER a massage using the finest massage oils while she sensually eats baguettes dripping with caviar on a silk bed sheet. She is probably doing the same thing right now except in her own bedroom with her latest lover.

      Off-screen, PISCES PETUNIA is moon-bathing naked on a rock jutting sharply out of the ocean, playing a harpsichord made out of her high school sweetheart’s hair, glittery tears streaming down her face. 


      SAGGO SALLY is absent as usual, of course, because she has taken another last-minute spiritual journey vacation to the other side of the world (or a last-minute motorcycle ride around town because she didn’t feel like showing up for work) and though she should be fired by now, she always finds a way to woo MOTHER back into her good graces with her exotic gifts of rare spices from India  (that saffron!), tea leaves from Pakistan, soft and finely textured shawls from Indonesia, and unusual but tasteful objects of curiosity from the East Orient that add so much sensory pleasure to MOTHER’S artfully decorated beloved home of many years.  

      LEO LAURIE finishes her song and her smug strut across the backs of the bored suburban men who feel blessed to feel the weight of her stiletto heels crush into their weak spines. She takes a sip from her drink an admiring patron (one of many—she has an underground and nationwide following who eagerly await receiving her latest headshot in the mail every spring and fall equinox) had conveniently bought for her and placed on the barstool next to her, and revels in the rose-colored spotlight still aimed right at her, casting the scene below her and the rest of the MOTHER interior in a vaginal pink glow. 

      Now that Mercury is finally direct and out of the shadow zone, she takes in a few breaths of jubilant glee before gathering her inner reserves to debut the fire hula-hoop solo burlesque dance set which she has been dutifully practicing every night, naked in her mirror-walled master bedroom, during the last Mercury Retrograde while her Muggle husband was fast asleep. 

      SCENE: Back at home in LEO LAURIE’S master bedroom with mirror walls and a mirror ceiling and a stripper pole and a giant zebra-printed heart-shaped bed with sun-themed throw pillows and giant framed boudoir photos from the early days of her modeling career, LEO HUSBAND in plaid pajamas, is curled in a fetal position while sleeping in his corner, the floor lined with old newspapers. 

      NARRATOR: THEY WILL WALK ALL OVER YOU, LITERALLY AND FIGURATIVELY, IN PURSUIT OF THEIR SENSUAL, PERVERSE, AND NEVER-ENDING DESIRES. THEIR FIERY PERSONALITIES WILL LEAVE LITTLE ROOM FOR YOUR OWN PREFERENCES AND OPINIONS AND COMPLETELY INCINERATE THE NORMALCY OF YOUR STABLE AND RESPECTFUL LIFE. 

      THE END

  3. She WAS a Leo (hello, blonde, great hair)

    He was a Scorpio and a sulky one at that.

    She’d had enough of cooking (incredible Italian dishes learned during her time in Rome–female director–the film industry wasn’t ready for her and the sexism was rife)…not that she hated it–but when your culinary arts aren’t met with proper appreciation….it’s all you can do to throw a glass of champagne in his face…

    She was sick of cleaning—he used to come home with mud on his shoes from his “all night rambles on the heath that you couldn’t possibly understand my dear”…She didn’t DO midnight rambles–she preferred midnight drinking-at-the-opera….and she couldn’t care less for hubby’s “tortured mind” as long as he was happy to hoover the mud off the floors–which he very much WASN’T.

    She was sick of him pontificating about his superior knowledge of the “economy”, “secret societies” and a conspiracy about Jews running the world. Her mother was Jewish and she couldn’t take the bullshit anymore.

    The paranoia! Where WERE you? Who is Alfonso?
    (The salon…my hairdresser and soon-to-be-lover and star of my next cinematic masterpiece….the flights to Rome are booked and I am going to slap “Mother” on my suitcase as a nod to your simpering “I’ll bet you go running home to Mummy” crap).

    She strode out the door with not so much as a “Goodbye Charles”.

  4. Jeffery just didn’t understand that Martha was an accomplished Astro Physicist with Nasa and she just didn’t have time to iron his pants with a crease down the middle of the legs. It was about time to take his shirts to a dry cleaner, preferably organic. As she walked out the door she’ll told him she’ll be back by 10pm after her Nasa convention and she expected a late supper to be ready for her on the table. Otherwise she’ll be going to her mum’s to watch re-runs of Mr. Ed and drink gin and tonics.

  5. If you can overlook the emotional blackmail and the crying jags, a Cancer woman (June 22 – July 22) is both an elegant decorator and an excellent stand-in for Mommy.

  6. ‘But Diana, I told you I didn’t mean to step all over your newly washed floor… I didn’t realise…’

    But that was the last straw for her. Her Leo sun meant doing housework was beneath her anyway. She should be reclining in an asses’ milk bath being tended to by her slaves. Diana’s Aries ascendant made her slow to anger but once she fired up, all hell broke loose.

    This was the last time Dick would treat her like a slave, a silly little woman waiting at home for her man. Down with the patriarchy! (maybe she was having a Lilith transit!) Her Saggo moon meant she longed for travel, adventure, and new places.

    Diana stormed out without a word. She was leaving for New York to become a famous movie star, after stopping off with her long suffering mother to pick up her spare furs and her emergency cash fund.

  7. Oh Henry, i just can’t stand those drab clothes any longer.
    If i’m going to galm up to impress your boss time and again, at least you could make an effort.
    It’s hard to shine if your standing in my lime light looking like that.
    At least mother understands the need to improve oneself and status in life!

  8. Yet again, Linda Leo found herself “too far” on the pushed scale. Whether she was on the stage, walking to the train station or glamorizing her sins to that one handsome priest at church, she couldn’t help but sprinkle some extra panache into her performances. Life was simply a way for her to work on her craft, why was it only she seemed to understand that?

    Sighing heavily, Linda remembered what her fortune teller slowly revealed during their last session. It’s true that Nana Neptune was the top psychic in the tri-county area, but Linda still found herself struggling with deciphering the cryptic riddles. Too often she feigned a vague understanding just to get the dialogue going, and would vigorously nod her head in agreement to whatever words slipped out of the old crone’s mouth.

    “It’s the mother you make that is the answer, to be the one to marry your Cancer.”

    It’s true that Linda sought out Nana’s ethereal advice to speed up the proposal process with her beau Carey Cancer. She had first set her eyes on Carey at a fabulous house party he hosted during the full moon. That was the night Linda decided he’d make the perfect first husband for her needs; so many networking opportunities and clearly he had some money to throw around, perhaps she could finally get that eye lift and nose tip chisel to propel her from simple magnificence to star level.

    But, and in Linda’s case there was always a but, she soon learned that the owner of Carey’s house, wealth and heart was Virginia Virgo. His mother. Carey came from old money, which made him all the more alluring to Linda. Old money was good. Old money had connections. Old money got you in the door at MGM without having to sit on any fat old impotent man’s lap, something Linda swore to herself she’d never do again.

    Linda Leo rolled her cat lined eyes as she silently paced back and forth her apartment, the ice from her sidecar clinking about as she strut on an invisible catwalk. She repeated Nana’s fortune out loud in her empty apartment. It was clear to Linda that she had to make Virginia her ally in order to secure Carey’s heart.

    Linda had grown accustomed to tapping into her Leo surname when it benefitted her. A sultry purr, a magnificent mane toss or the click of her claws was usually all it took to get her way. But it was pretty clear Linda’s star power was lost on Virginia Virgo. So she settled for a hacksaw instead.

    “How dare she suggest I ruin my figure by promising children immediately after marriage!” Linda screamed as she angrily disassembled Carey’s mother.

    Quickly, Linda tidied up Virginia’s mess. She supposed between all of the blood, bones and organs she might as well make a visit to that alchemist who rented the backhouse at Neptune Nana’s. Perhaps this wasn’t a total loss and Carey’s newfound inheritance could be something she really sunk her claws into. The family was more well off than she had initially realized, Linda had been shocked to see such beautiful Vintage Louis Vuttion luggage sitting in the storage closet. While she felt slightly guilty dirtying up the inside of such a beautiful work of art with dismembered body parts, she knew it wasn’t anything someone at Nana’s couldn’t fix for her.

    As Linda slunk out of Virginia’s house, she barely noticed Carey waiting in the living room.

    “What on earth are you doing with Mother’s luggage?”

    Linda faltered for only half a second before she gave the performance of her life.

  9. Yes Wilbur, it is regretful that you had to read about it in the local paper. They really didn’t do me any justice in that picture but I suppose they wanted to paint me as a jezebel. We did think we were being discreet. I had hoped to tell you over this Sunday’s pot roast and no, before you ask I wasnt going to invite Judge Pederson. I had thought you might be grateful as I did get your fines to disappear darling.

    What? Sorry…do try to be reasonable Wilbur, I can’t understand you when you’re blabbering. Where am I going? Why nowhere of course darling. The case? Its for you Wilbur. I simply can’t have you here if you’re going to be so unreasonable after all I’ve done for you. Be a dear and fetch your coat and from the hat stand whilst I pop this in your car. I’ve called your mother .. she’s expecting you..

  10. Honey, you must I have misunderstood I did’nt say Gentlemen prefer strawberry blondes and I definetly did not make the snide remark at dinner with the Kennedy’s about bleach blonde bimbos. They were your words. Oh my how gorgeous you look when get worked up like this. I was listening and betting on the horses is a lousy way to spend a Wednesday evening know. Come forget about mothers lets go to Tiffanys and catch a Broadway show later its a full moon maybe my luck will turn this weekend when I pitch the idea for a moon landing at the Hamptons…

  11. The mere fact that husbands think they need to ‘handle’ their wives, let alone a Leonine Goddess causes them grave difficulty and confusion. Comfort zones have been completely lost for this young man.

  12. Mr Crab had always suffered from Separation Anxiety which often triggered his weak bladder. Over the years he had developed strategies to cope with this indignity – such as wearing black trousers and black shoes and always having a newspaper upon his person, (to stand on when he could no longer contain the inevitable.)

    Often, he was able to dispose of the damp paper without anyone noticing or, if out and about, was simply able to walk off, maintaining an air of nonchalance. Madame Leo had long been aware of his dirty little habit and had suggested counselling and natural therapies. Since starting on a course of vitamins, his urine had turned a flourescent yellow. Not only did it soak through an entire newspaper, but left paches on the carpet, which glowed in the dark.

    Seriously? They were over…..

    • Hilarious utterly hilarious!
      My ex husband was heard to exclaim from the lavatory,
      Jesus, what have you given me in those vitamins????
      I’ve got hold of a light sabre!!!!!!
      Still tickles me. He wasn’t known for his wit.

      • Of course I went there D. There is a reason that the cartoonist put that vibrant yellow under his feet.The fact that it is of a more vibrant and attention grabbing shade than Mdm Leo’s hair, is (as we all know) perfect grounds for divorce.

  13. No longer content with sharing the bed, the mirror, and the sofa with her stodgy Taurus man, she decided to go out and prove that the world really did revolve around her. Mother Earth would be hers…all hers.

  14. “Cupcake, I know you said that this Saturn transit to your North Node was making you reconsider our financial situation and I KNOW you didn’t care for Mother, but surely she deserves a better resting place than off the Westgate Bridge? And a better coffin than your suitcase??”

  15. Honey I know that your model agency told you your arms were way too pale and long for that Sports Illustrated shoot but it’s not my fault ? And let’s face it carrying around that heavy case with a coat over your arm is not going to help.
    Darling, I love you just as you are and when you wrap those long white arms around me I’m in heaven… what ? Baby ? You’re still going ? Well go then, ha, your mother ? Where do you think those fuqing arms came from you silly bitch, I’ll be fine without you, send my regards to Sirius or wherever your extra terrestrial spawn came from. Oh, last thing, do you know where my green tie is ? Baby ? Honey ?

  16. She’s bored of color coding her Tupperware. There’s a sheet of acid in the suitcase. She’s about to drive her station wagon into the purple San Francisco sunset

  17. Depends on the husband. Is he lower Virgo? Got upset and picked apart everything about her, detail by detail without even a lower Scorp’s flair for finding the most important parts? No, just a dry methodical list of flaws without even the decency of including an emotional reaction equal to our Leo heroine’s magnificent self.

    … and I agree with the above, Leo is not the sign id suspect of most-unable-to-conform-to-relationship-standards. Maybe an Aries moon or Aquarius moon (I know a lot of surprisingly conventional Aquarius suns).

  18. (unbeknownst to hubby, not only is his wife a Leo sun in the 12th, she’s a late Leo rising with Pluto in Virgo)

    Chuck: Darling..Darling you dont..dont need to…But you already…Dear god Tammy don’t go through with this.

    Tammy: like you said Chuck, I’ve already done it and intend to follow through. Something you are incapable of doing.
    I’ve finally come to realise that I don’t need to hold myself back in order to keep your feelings intact.

    I’m going to show you how far I can go, to make sure you can appreciate what I have to offer. AND leave if you don’t.

    Chuck: but but..You’ll get caught, they’ll come after you…You’ll you’ll fry! (Getting hysterical)

    Tammy: No Chuck..If you had tried you’d have been fried for certain. I’m doing both of us a favour don’t you see?
    Now calm yourself down..I’ll be back before breakfast tomorrow. You’ll wake up to the smell of bacon, eggs and coffee only they’ll be better, the best, cooked by me and ONLY me. with no interference.

    *Chuck is in on his knees in tears staring at his once so innocent wife*

    *Tammy gazes down at her husband..She used to think so highly of him, he was so strong and bright, head of the firm..She’d been proud to ornament his arm. But now…After 5 years of living together, two small children and a mother-in-law gremlin she didn’t sign up for, Tammy had had enough. Things were going to change. For the better. Tammy was certain of it. More to the point she was certain of herself, more certain than she had ever been.*

    Tammy: Darling while I’m out I need you to do me a teensy weensy favour.

    *Chuck catching his breath has stood up, gazing slowly between his wife and the suitcase’

    Tammy: will you take a rag to the stairs for me? I was so careful cleaning up but as you can see there’s a little drip coming from the corner here. *Points to bottom of the suitcase*

    *Something seems to be going on behind Chuck’s eyes..What it is we may never truly know*

    Chuck: …Yes dear…Where…Where are you taking her?

    *Tammy walls to Chuck, holding one of his cheeks in her free hand, her eyes full of love and a new fire*

    Tammy: To the dump dear. Where your mother belongs.

    *Tammy gracefully walks out the door to the car, making the suitcase look like a light overnight bag. She opens the trunk and puts the suitcase I side. Sitting in the driver’s seat she waves to her husband at the front door.*

    Tammy: see you soon dear…And won’t you please be sure to wipe the stairs? There’s some polish underneath the kitchen sink. I wouldn’t want the wood to stain with such a dreadful colour.
    Ta!

    • o.O Have you ever thought that maybe there aren’t LESS female serial killers. we just get away with it MORE? o.O

  19. Psht – girl, if they can’t handle your awesome let the last thing they see be the flashing red of your Louboutin heels as you stride out that door with a slam! Leo girls are my chicks, for real – as long as you remember pay proper tribute to your Queen, they will purr for you like a kitten – men who don’t know how to handle this energy aren’t worthy of being her consort anyway. Leo vibe done right is *the* definition of fabulous – I have been an ardent admirer of the feline variety since youth and do not mind saying so at all. I had a Leo best friend in high school, a double Leo ex, my current best friends are a Leo Rising and a Leo Moon…this energy and I are like peas and carrots! We tend to get along quite well; I never upstage them and offer plenty of affection and genuine praise (I’m never stingy with compliments anyway as a Venusian), and in return they offer me a love that is pure sunshine. The love of a Leo is like being kissed by the Sun itself; you will always feel like the center of their universe. I have never felt so special and cherished as I have when blessed with the love of my Leo companions – when this sign loves, it will love you with all of its Being. It holds nothing back and you will feel just how pure a true heart-centered connection can be.

    • Agreed. Most of the time, most Leos are awesome. Such big hearts. And I’ve really only encountered a few with big enough egos that it detracted from their hearts at all.

  20. Haha brilliant… Especially when I find that many wack, sexist astrological sources consider (well-treated) Leo women to make the ‘best’ wives. I mean in the terms of commitment and spoiling, adoring and protecting one’s family. However, I recognize this situation…

    Leoness has found a bottle of oat milk from the fridge. Knowing well that her barbarian-of-a-man hubby only drinks full-fat milk, she immediately suspects that her husband is cheating. This bottle must belong to a specially obnoxious vegan mistress! And of course, instead of confronting her husband, she consults her 40 000 best friends online and a radio programme first. Husband gets to enjoy dramatic silent treatment and tantrums around non-related subjects.

    But as national curiosity grows towards the owner of the oat milk, she finally asks about the origins of the bottle. Turns out, a friend of Leonesse’s left the oat milk in the fridge. A month ago. That was the last time Leoness looked in the fridge. Leoness immediately throws a scene, but discreedly forgets to mention about the on-going public thriller and speculation regarding the oat milk and infidelity, not to mention the slightly negative reputation that has been added to dear hubby’s name and business in general.

    When husband explains that this fight would have never happened if Leoness would have looked in the fridge earlier, maybe cleaned it out, instead of constantly eating out in fancy restaurants and acting as if she still lived with her mother, Leoness finally loses it. She, a devoted, hard-working housewife, wouldn’t listen to accusations like this. She decides to show her ungrateful man how things would really be if she still lived with her mother – her fabulous presence was moving back to her mothers! Husband could stay behind and clean fridges by himself!

    – This might or might not be based on a real Leo-Leo relationship drama –

  21. ‘Don’t you realise, Jeremy? There is nothing TO handle. I’m simply me. You’re so consumed by this notion of authority that you can’t see the person standing before you. That’s why I’m leaving you. Not because of your habit of using yesterday’s newspaper as the doormat. But because I could be any girl who you found agreeable and who was nice to look at. Good bye, dear. I know you’ll be just fine.”

  22. Cancer man loses battle with stunning Leo girlfriend who refuses to stay the night until he cleans his brooding den. Until of course she goes too far and grabs his suitcase of ‘mother’ memorabilia. The final straw and her last invite to crabby kingdom.

  23. OK so back in the 50’s not gettin’ married was a social stigma, so everyone basically had to do it.
    No I don’t believe Leo are difficult wives, compared to the 50’s standard: yes they want to be the queen but back then “queen of the house” was the way many housewives were defined, at least in advertising.

    The least conservatives of all signs is – IMHO – Aquarius.
    I really don’t see and Aquarius (or to be more fair: an Aquarius Moon) woman – not even nowdays – conform to the norm (whatever that is).

    Yes Capricons are very independent too but 50’s were about convention,
    formality, traditions (hence the breaking of all rules brought by the 60’s hipsters) all things I cannot see Acquaius Sun and or Moon woman adapt to. Ever.

  24. And in symbolic ignorance, Sweet Muggle Husband has yet again forgotten that Leo Wife has the job of saving the entire planet from the clutches of Mediocre Exsistance, dressed in it’s blahzay costumes of earth tones and lack of rhinestones.

    The very chronicles of Leo Wife’s heroic deeds lays beneath SMH’s feet, as she prepares to go on another mission, his sweetness turned need for security, denoted by the thick layer of skull preventing his full awareness of the Ultimate Mother Witch with whom he resides.

    “But who’s going to make my lunch today?”, he whines. Not realizing that Ultimate Mother Witch Leo Wife does not plan to return this time.

    “I told you this was my life calling,” she warned him, “but you didn’t believe me. And I’m done repeating myself”.

    And with that, she clicked off in her stylish dress and steel tipped heels, reminding herself to email her Capricorn Lawyer, knowing that she’d have to explain yet another divorce, and mentally crossed Virgo off her list of AstroLovers.

    But nothing can truly keep the Ultimate Mother Witch Leo Wife down, married to her work, truly. Bringing gold and silver flash to every life scene and the wafting breeze of Jasmine floating behind her every time she leaves. How could we know what life is capable of being, if not for her charisma infused life saving techniques?

  25. “Wash your own damn shirts, Arnold, it’s not like the lounge room is going to miss you for the extra 30 minutes.”
    Lucille pulled the front door closed behind her with an immensely satisfying sound. The best dinner she had ever cooked in that stultifying marriage wasn’t even half as delicious as the taste of freedom.

  26. As a Leo, Betsy knew the difference between baggage and luggage…she just wondered how long it would take for the mugwort to wear off and for Frank to remember that Betsy didn’t have a mother. Long enough for her to meet Johnny at the airport?

    • She’s actually coming home, and closing the door.

      Much more Leo…”Honey, look what I’ve brought home for tonight from the girls’ theatre lunch club!”

      “Your mother??”

      “Oh my whiskers, Harry, do I have to keep explaining stage names to you?”

  27. Why on earth is he standing on a newspaper? Is it so he can’t interfere with the Sun-Ra vibe coming through the floor? She’s definitely about to karate-chop him out of the door with his suitcase and send him back to his own mother. This is not an entry, just a baffled observation.

    • Aha! He has trodden in some fluorescent yellow Pluto dust (laid down as a trap) after breaking in to her secret lair (hidden entrance in the sewing room). That’s why she won’t let him stand on the floor – it’s a devil to scrub out again. He can’t stay now as her secret identity as an Alien Lilith Ra Warrior has been revealed and as soon as he opens the suitcase he’ll forget she ever existed.

  28. Gemini. We leave twice. Once because you would not talk, and again because you talked too much.

    I was a Gemini married to a Gemini. We could gight, change sides, and keep fighting.

    He had Capricorn moon v my Aquarius moon. Indian parents would never have let us get married- I discover 24 years too late. My only dating advice now is ” check their moon”!!

      • Fortunately my moon stands up to scrutiny – Cap – but it’s always my Neptune-Venus square they didn’t see coming 🙂

        • yes. pisces with cap moon tends to be quite nice but then all the other stuff gatecrashes and they’re either dismayed (virgos, taureans, Leos, librans) or thrilled (sadge, scorpio, capricorn, gemini)

          • While i would love to know an astro-aware lover, i can just imagine being written off early as Pisces 5th House with Moon in 12th, conjunct Neptune.

            In a future world where the limits are truly broken open and we are all astro-woke, you girls will have the edge!

            You may scoff, Practical Moon Women, but this neptunian naive kinda keeps hoping this is our future 😀

            • Think i mean “astro-erudite” more than just, like, yeh, simply aware…more than what’s your sign, right?

            • It’s a nice idea haha xx
              I don’t know if I’d want someone to ‘know’ my astro tho. I’d be concerned they’d be so caught up in the me-on-paper that they’d forget that I actually exist in spacetime. Lately I have been backing off trying to dig into someone’s astro too much for the same reasons. I think with enough patience and observing, the relevant info unfolds one way or another…
              but i do get your point

          • I’m not so sure about Cap moon and niceness! I think moon in Cap is one of the more difficult moon signs. I have known a few and their emotional expression can be stunted – of course that depends on many things.

            The other thing I’ve noted with a few people is the manipulation – they give Cancer a run for their money!

            • the pisces offers the niceness i think i meant. the cap moon itself is definitely emo challenged unless worked on yes. but it makes us strong and gives us staying power. These days the polar vortex breeze off the cap moonscape goes through a humanity-filter to re-humidify and bring to room temperature before use. but you know what – for a fish, the clear, steely, cool rock of the cappy moon is a goddamn blessing in times of turmoil / when pushed the wrong way. Pack bag – open door – gone. Like I never existed.

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