How to live your life this week

    This is Snarky ‘Scopes, your guide to what the universe in its grandeur has in store for your insignificant life this week.

    • Aries (March 21 – April 19) If there is one day of the year every pubescent rebel awaits with bated breath, it’s 4/20. That magical day when it’s acceptable to take your first step down the long, slippery slope to a heroin addiction and an untimely death. The day that every nerdy bookworm in college tries to prove that they’re not just some loser who spends his nights and weekends poring over research in the Core. But as much as you smoke and choke, you can’t seem to get that buzz. This week will be like your first high: nothing.
    • Taurus (April 20 – May 20) So if there’s one thing every victim of the quarter system dreads it’s the end of April. Damn those drunk dials from those state school kids who just finished a game of Edward 40 Hands to celebrate the summer (because we all know summer starts in April). You dread those minutes of payback from the 1 a.m. New Student Week voicemails you left from the Keg reminding them of how cool your life was. This week: Feel the wrath of sweet, sweet revenge.
    • Gemini (May 21 – June 20) Go on a reality TV show, preferably one that is in its 8th or 10th season, and lost all but its trashy fans four years ago. Then win the whole show and walk away with your millions of dollars (most of which will end up in the hands of the IRS). Then come home and realize that no one really watches your show anymore, and Playboy doesn’t want you to pose for the centerfold. And when a fraternity asks you if you’ll come talk about your awesome experiences to a bunch of college kids with IQs higher than your SAT scores, say yes. This week you’re Yul Kwon.
    • Cancer (June 21-July 22) So it’s hard to argue against globalization. When someone speaks to you in Spanish you’d best answer in it. The Internet makes its possible to have a free conversation from Chicago to Belize. And everything you own was made in Taiwan. It’s time to jump on the bandwagon. This week you’re like all of Northwestern’s classes and lectures on Turkey: an odd expression of an international trend. And not very interesting.
    • Leo (July 23- August 22) “April showers bring May flowers,” or so the saying goes. Basically, you’re supposed to tolerate the hideousness of spring in April, more closely resembling a bastardized form of winter with its overcast skies, damp grounds, and endless precipitation. But fear not, its all on the up and up pushing forward to the beauty this is May. Except in Chicago, where the weather more closely resembles a frustrating crush, giving you a little hope that you’ll get laid, only to revert to its old ways of leaving you in 40 degree weather. This week: Be a cocktease.
    • Virgo (August 23 – September 22) Your parents and grandparents and aunts and uncles will all give you this one piece of advice about college: study abroad, because it will change your life. For some, the sub-zero temperatures and buildings designed to look like vaginas are foreign enough. But others need to drink the beers of the world in the country where they’re brewed. You too can drink Guinness in Ireland, as long as you follow a few simple procedures: mandatory meetings, tedious applications, and a pre-departure prep that last three hours. This week is like a study abroad meeting: long and pointless.
    • Libra (September 23 – October 22) This is America. If we want to be fat, we’ll super-size our Biggie meal and have a Quad Stacker on the side. But if there is one guilty pleasure that surpasses all others, it’s every inner fat kid’s craving for ground beef, cheese, refried beans, guacamole and sour cream all wrapped up in a flour tortilla. The burrito (or taco, or enchilada, or gordita) is the greatest gift from across the border. But only at lunchtime. All Mexican cravings must be postponed until between 11 a.m. to 2 p.m. when Norris is willing to fulfill your needs. This week: Go to the gym.
    • Scorpio (October 23 – November 21) All college students wait for the glorious day when those little red warnings on your driver’s license free you from your underage constraints. You are 21. You can go to a bar. You can buy a drink without having to flash a middle-aged man at the next table. Until then, you live at the mercy of Northwestern parties. Fundraiser parties are the biggest scam since Nixon was in the White House. Five dollars for a keg of PBR and jungle juice that turns your teeth red? This week: Prepare to be screwed.
    • Sagittarius (November 22 – December 21) Tour groups can be identified from blocks away: a mass of people swarming around a tiny person wearing a North Face fleece and carrying a Northwestern umbrella. They swarm, barricading students from the Rock, blocking the line at Sbarro and listening intently to a litany of useless facts about the history of Kresge. Nervous parents giving furtive looks to students with blue hair and tattoos. This week fulfill your dreams: Fuck with the prospies.
    • Capricorn (December 22 – January 19) Northwestern is not an athletic university. Its performance in football, basketball and every other sport is abysmal at best. Unless it’s women’s lacrosse, who, despite being the best in the NCAA, still can’t draw a crowd of nerds and dorks to come watch them. Not unless there’s free Chipotle at the end of the rainbow. Leave it to Northwestern to employ the oldest and surest of methods to get what it wants: bribery. This week: persevere and you too will be bought off.
    • Aquarius (January 20 – February 18) The Student Activities Fair. One of those rites of passage. All students must wander among tables with poorly drawn posters and cheesy gimmicks and giveaways. So, being the former soccer star, editor of the paper, president of Key Club and the Spanish Honor Society, you sign up for everything. You want to join SEED, ASG, A&O and College Feminists, even if you’re not a girl. Then comes spring, after you’ve realized that the best way to make friends is over the toilet after a keg stand. But you can’t escape your overachiever past. Their listservs are clogging your inbox every day. This week: Beware. They’re coming to get you.
    • Pisces (February 19 – March 20) One of the wonders of Chicago, beyond the obvious audacious grandeur of the Sears Tower and the majesty of all the rich people on the Mag Mile, are the Chicago Cubs. They haven’t won a World Series in 99 years. They haven’t even come close since the unfortunate events of 2003 (Too soon? Still?). And yet, they have these die-hard fans who are convinced that the Cubs are the sons of God, the chosen ones, persecuted with failure but bound to triumph at the end of the world. Join the dream. Buy your tickets to watch the incompetence this city so cherishes. This week you’re like the Cubs: undeserving, but loved anyway.


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