Sunday, August 23, 2015

Planet Barmywood

I gave up on my guardian angel. 

Having been promised a lot of money by September 9th, I began to have doubts about the likelihood of anything materialising when some payment I was expecting this week failed to appear. Apparently, it was sitting on someone’s desk at the office, having got “lost in the system”. If an angel can’t sort out basic office organisation, I’m not optimistic about his ability to re-order the entire cosmos to my benefit.
No worries. Having briefly dipped my toe into the celestial waters, I am now discovering a whole load of other people desperate to sort my life out. It doesn’t need much sorting, to be honest. I love living in the US, I have great friends and family and really love my work. What my new band of internet helpers are picking up on, though, is that life could be a lot easier on the financial front. That’s probably true for everyone, but these do-gooders have a knack of making you feel as if you are extra special in your problem and, more to the point, they are extra special in their being the only people who can get you out of whatever mess you have created for yourself.
Today’s little helper comes from the world of astrology. Now, I have mixed feelings about astrology. I don’t believe for a second that the world can be divided into just 12 types, but it’s true that we are affected by our surroundings, planetary or otherwise. I call that science, though. Do I howl looking at a full moon? Well, no. But there are certain times of year that fill me with more joy or sadness than others. Of course, that might have less to do with Uranus (*sniggers childishly*) and just mean I can be a moody bugger.
But in my new quest to become a wonderful human being, I’m willing to give everything a go. Including Adrian. Adrian, the astrologer, who has written to me citing Susan Boyle as my role model. “Briefly deprived of oxygen at birth,” he explains, “by sheer stroke of luck (she) made it to the end”, achieving “INTERNATIONAL STARDOM” (Adrian’s capitals). She found, he enthuses, her “Ultimate Destiny, and has been living it ever since.”
Now, I don’t like to be picky, but that’s not strictly true, is it, Adrian, love? There is not an atom of “luck” in Ms Boyle’s story. She was singled out by a TV producer who spotted a good story, thrown at the altar of ratings, and subsequently sacrificed her sanity in a series of public meltdowns, one of which included singing with a mop in an airport terminal. Living destiny’s ultimate dream, or what!
Just like my angel did, Adrian tells me that I am on the verge of “something really empowering”, although he says that if I tell anyone about it, nothing will come to pass. Oops. Sorry about that.
It has to do with the “Transit Period” I am apparently about to enter, and it seems I have asked for help at exactly the right time, wouldn’t you know it, because of where Mars and its influences are currently based.
I quickly learned, from my initial mini-reading, that I am “extremely intelligent, philosophical and imaginative”. No shit, Sherlock. I “analyze everything” (double shit, Sherlock), and there is a “fog” that has been pursuing me “practically since childhood” (don’t beat about the bush, will you, Adrian?). All will become clear when I receive my six free books when I “partner” with Adrian “to combat the misfortune” and unleash my “Life Force”. Well, when I say “free”, that’s after the “MUCH REDUCED” cost of a lengthier reading, and a discounted rate that comes with another “DO NOT SHARE” warning.
Now, I see what you did there, Adrian. Like my angel, you tell me that I “MUST” act fast and not “mull it over”. You people really don’t like hanging about, do you? This is my life we’re talking about here, mate, and I don’t think Mars is in a hurry to go anywhere fast, so if a planet can hang on for a few more days, I’m pretty sure you can, too.
So, back to my Transit Period. The next 12 weeks are going to be hugely significant, and my lucky number is 10. If I have an important meeting, I must insist on it taking place on the 10th of the month (that’ll go down a blast with the editor of the Daily Mail) “or 10 o’clock in the afternoon” (sorry, Adrian, but you seem to be a bit out of kilter with how time actually works). 

If I catch a train, I must make sure I am in the 10th car (that’s going to be a fun request on the two carriage run up the Welsh Valleys), and 12 is my number for happiness, and the one I must use to conquer misfortune. Eight is my “most auspicious number” that is also “lucky for travel and in financial matters.” 

Hmmm. I broke up with one of my exes on December 8th, after he cleaned me out financially and travelled to Boston to live with a nurse. I’ll hold fire on the number eight, thanks very much.
I’m even more doubtful of Adrian than I was of my guardian angel, who was at least offering a bit more free up front. But then I’m suspicious of anyone who asks me for money in return for giving what they should, as a decent human being, offer for free.
You see? Typical Scorpio.



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