This is the year I'm choosing love, so I guess that goes for myself as well. Hail, Mary, hale and weal, it's time to forgive myself.
It's time we stop victim-blaming the Eight of Swords, y'all.
The Universe has given us a Martian ℞ — taken once per night, preferably with lots of water, and we still have half a bottle left to swallow. Consider another way to fight, friends.
You cannot have your cake donut and eat it, too.
To get crabs, therefore, is not simply a way to live my 70s Swinger Dream Realness, but to connect with the history of our species as I scratch an itch that transcends time.