Planet Dumb

Have you all seen this show? http://www.hgtv.com/hgtv/pac_ctnt_988/text/0,,HGTV_22056_48166,00.html
Sweet Jeebus. If I'd known as a young woman that I could circumvent the whole higher edukayshun route and make a living imparting interior design advice based on someone's horrorscope, well, I would have done it. I mean, look where my degree got me anyway, right?

So, according to the Web site for this show, this is what my ultimate "Taurus" living room looks like, complete with dumb ass commentary:

We know your type (uh, "giddy" is a type?) Taurus has very particular taste--for good reason (thanks, grand pop, I'm going to land myself in debtor's prison with this "taste" of mine)! With Venus as your ruler (oh thank God it's not George W. Bush), your sense of beauty is beauty (Then why is this living room so butt ugly? Where's the color? The stacks of books and crap magazines? The two geriatric dogs snoring and shedding on their dog beds?). Anything less than pretty leaves you feeling blue (uh, is anyone left less than blue by butt ass ugly?). In fact, you view a living room as the heart of the home (Actually, I view it as a place to eat Cheetos while watching crap movies and 'merican Idol. In my underwear.), a hub through which good energy should flow (About the only thing I want to flow through the hub of my home is air. Taking JoJo's farts with it.).

And here is my ultimate kitchen:

Where is that yummy smell coming from? (JoJo's backside) Your kitchen, of course (no, I told you, JoJo's backside). To you, cooking is the finest of the arts (actually, the finest of arts would be, well, ART) — a quality friends and neighbors appreciate (because cooking and baking keeps the voices in my head at bay and stops me from blowing a small third world country's GNP on shoes). While others may exist on Lean Cuisine, you believe in slow-cooked, home-cooked goodness (unless I'm trying to stuff my ass in my new summer bathing suit, in which case, Lean Cuisine rocks my world). In fact, Taurus — a possessive sign (hands off my cake/man/bicycle/shoes, biatch!) — likes owning stuff (I got a bunch of blisters from touching everything I see). You also believe in doing everything just so (You mean, if you squint at it JUST SO in a certain light? At dusk? After half a bottle of wine?), which makes you the sign most likely to own a bread-maker, gelato-maker and pretty little ramekins for every occasion, too (They forgot the mini-blow torch and full set of Martha Stewart baking pans.).

And, finally, my ultimate bedroom, which, I dunno, looks awfully brown to me. And what's with that white head board thingy? A magnet for dog hair and finger prints, that's what.

You know what you like (yes, and it's NOT this bedroom). For you, the ideal bedroom is about comfort and luxury (huh, and to think all these years I thought the bedroom was for sleep and you-know-what). It should reflect wealth and the finer things in life (no, it SHOULD reflect the fact that S.B. and I are capable of picking up our clothing). You’ll choose elegant details—finely tailored curtains, custom-made bedding (no, really, I think I just choose clean)—and spare no expense to make your home a haven (you mean, the place where I store all my shit 'cause I'm sooo possessive). Just beware too much opulence (actually, no such thing): Add basics, like a rich wooden bed frame, to ground those fine silken sheets, matching duvet, and pile of plush throw pillows (On WHAT planet does this bedroom live?)! Then recline with a fine glass of wine ('kay, I'm confused. In the bedroom? I thought that was what the living room was for?). Ah, bliss (actually, I'll just take a good night's sleep, uninterrupted by dog farts, chirping crickets, wayward bats, and the neighbor's dog).

So with which sign's home do I align? Aquarius's. Especially that kitchen. Gimme.