Balls Wild

Don't know if you all know this about me, but once I develop a slight interest in something I go balls wild and learn all I can about that one thing.

Right now that one thing is Tarot.

Stop me.

I love it.

No, stop.

Fuck.

I'm about seven minutes from buying my own deck. Looked at about ninety something different card designs. I'm pretty sure I have images of all 78 arcana imprinted in my brain, and I definitely have memorized the historical narrative of the Fool and how he encounters each major arcana, their lessons, and how it relates to the interpretation of the cards.

Oh god. Please don't let me go all veiny Willow.

Help.

But wouldn't it be fun to do readings for the Circus and the Whores? Of course it would. Would I even get them correct?

Who cares?

It'll be like Junior High sleepovers, where we play "Light as a feather, stiff as a board" and eat cookie dough and play Tarot.

No, Ross, you're twenty-seven. Stop acting like a twelve year old.

But twelve was soooo much fuuu-uuh-uuuhn.

Dammit. Lame.

...