PRINCESS BALESTRA’S DEFINITIVE DRAGON ASTROLOGY COMPATIBILITY PRIMER
Wanna reach out to evryone in the Yookay been thinkin’ ‘bout heroic knights — an’ dragons.
See, thing I get asked real often in my capacitya Wise & Allurin’ Astrologer Person Packin’ Max Wise Counsel & Occasional Filth is what is my dragon astrology compatibility?
tbh, I do not mind bein’ asked such lame frickin’ questions, but what bugs me is how it happens all too often when I am takin’ a pee in the mall.*
* In the bathroom, not the actual mall. I may be Sajjo, but I am not an undomesticated voyeur-entrappin’ piss-beest FFS.
Scenario typically goes like this…
I got noo shoes or sumthin’, an’ my bladder is swillin’ with coffee, so I go multitask on the pee & peek deal.
Then, as I am unwrappin’ my shoes, I hear sum gal whisper, “hey, you see Princess Balestra sneak in the cubicle with her magic toad?”
An’ sumone whispers back, “she goes shopping with the toad from her secret sanctum? How cool is that?”
Next thing I know, evryone in the mall is scramblin’ to get their heads over the cubicle door like the zombies from World War Z…
Image c/o Brad Pitt an’ his cinema pals. Gotta figure I am allowed to use this cos it is free promo for the film guys — an’ if it ain’t OK, who fuckin’ cares cos they are prolly zombies IRL an’ therefore totally oblivious to what is gowin’ on.
…an’ they are screamin’ shit like my fish is a fire sign; is that even allowed?
an’ I got weird lumps on my nipples squirting foul-smelling black discharge everyplace. Can you help me? I am a Scorpio!
an’ the inevitable what is my dragon astrology compatibility?
an’ I am like pullin’ up my knickoes real speedy yet dainty an’ makin’ with a 15-minute TED-style lecture, delivered with heels hooked over the rimma the john cos I do not wanna puncture the lid.
Ain’t gonna cover the fish an’ nipples questions today, but the dragon astrology compatibility conundrum is an easy fix…
Let The Cosmos Abound With Weirdsy Animals
Gotta start at the very beginnin’ — with Mother Cosmosis.
Back in the day, there were no horoscopes or astrologer persons or zodiacs, an’ fuck all in the waya stars — till Mother Cosmosis embroidered ‘em up an’ colored ‘em in.
She coulda gone with a dragon insteada a crab or a lion, I guess — but, see, astrology dragons’re Chinese.
An’ this is where we haveta switch out our science focus from astrology to brute logic.
Ask yourself — in a Cosmos that only moments ago began packin’ stars, whereya gonna find any fuckin’ Chinese people?
There ain’t even no Earth yet.
Truth is, dragon astrology figures a whole eon later, an’ from here flourisheth the whole dragon astrology compatibility deal.
“I am a dragon and my partner is a monkey. Is it against my regal nature to let her lick my asshole?”
“I have the hots for my dragon lecturer and wake each morning desperate to throw myself at his feet and make with the mutually orgiastic writhing. Please help me. I am a dog.”
“Me and my partner are both dragons, and we are desperate not to have dragon kids because we are both so impossibly EVIL. Can you fix us a pig or a rooster? I dunno, cast a spell or something?”
(For the record — I do not take my toad to the mall. I do not even OWN no frickin’ toad.)
Dragon Astrology Compatibility Conundrum Solvin’ Demands No Amphibians — an’ Proffers Only Vile Birds
Answer to these questions is, I am not a Chinese astrologer.
I only fix up the deal with the bulls an’ the rams an’ the fruitbat physiology half-goat half-fish fuckin’ mutants — like in this dinky post HERE.
Pitch me Chinese astrology queries, an’ I am ‘bout as much use as a giraffe advisin’ on limbo dance technique.
It’s real neat those Chinese guys figured on so varied an’ exotic a rostera beasts to illustrate the hooman condition in all its subtlety, an’ mebbe I woulda picked up on alla that with the same zest I got for what my bestie Amy calls the regular buncha stoopid Zodiac crapola — but I srsly do not like roosters.
More specifically, I do not like that scraga flappy wappy flesh hangs offa their throats.
It is like a lost & lonesome labium — or the void ballsacka sum sad eunuch.
Plus, roosters shit evryplace an’ sing real bummed-out songs gonna screwya ears tight insideya skull for wanta silence.
Gotta figure birdkind is real pissed off with ‘em also.
“You do not belong in our excloosively avian gang, vile creatures!”
Listen close — sparrow, eagle, ostrich — they all can chirp that refrain, tellya.
Ahem. You Were Saying … About The Heroic Knights?
Oh yeah, I kinda forgot about that St George guy.
I got no desireta diss a national Saint, nor call into question the pluck an’ spirit shown by Yookay citizens as they maraud worldwide with their own particular branda ultra reserved devil-may-care, but I would wanna suggest kneejerk dragon slayin’ is mebbe a thinga the past.
What in hell they all done wrong?
Yeah, for sure, the dragon in The Hobbit prolly erred too much on the sidea evil — just — but FFS Benedict Cumberbatch!
See, if it had been Moi seekin’ out the dragon hoard insteada Bilbo, things woulda been waaaay different.
First, I woulda made with the tantalisingly revealin’ chainmail bra an’ panties — an’ packed a real sturdy quarterstaff I could grab firmly in both hands.
Then I mebbe mighta sidled upta Sonorous Shakespearean Speako Central an’ whispered, “ain’t it weird how a rooster’s flappy wappy flesh thing is kinda disturbingly insubstantial?” before workin’ the conversation round super tactically till I got my head restin’ sweet in his lap within tongueshota sublime pleasure incarnate.
Thing about the George dragon is, it was real mean.
Women-eatin’ beests ain’t nice.
But that don’t mean any dragons show like tonite inya local neighborhood gotta be evil by default.
Personally, I would always wanna take any flame-spittin’ dragon roarin’ overhead on its own merits.
I am ultra tolerant that way, I guess.
So I got a proposal gonna settle the dragon astrology compatibility conundrum forever, fix up a strategy for how hoomankind could mebbe deal with dragons in the fyooture (kinda like Asimov’s ground rules for hangin’ out with robots), an’ if I can get alla that sorted before my lasagne is done cookin’, I may even showcase my top 10 tips for fruitful masturbation whenya hands’re covered in paint, oil or other substances best kept away from naked flesh.
(Only jokin’ bout that last part btw, but this is the ADD internets an’ I figure summaya might wanna go look at cat pictures rn & kinda needya stimulatory perkies flushin’ out on a juicier option. Welcome back.)
Princess Balestra’s One-Size-Fits-All Plan For Hoomanity (Dragon Section)
Thing is, sum people got hair bustin’ outta places they shouldn’t.
I am not talkin’ gals with unshavable muffs here — jus’ how random wisps an’ tufts kinda feature in hoomankind’s hirsuteness options locker.
You ever done that Lookit What Crazy Stuff I Can Do thing?
First night at college, first sleepover, first noo job social event?
“I can bend my fingers right back to my wrist because I have hypermobile joints!”
“My skin is so elastic — see how I can stretch out my cheeks like bat wings!”
“Observe the huge chunks of hair sprouting from underneath my eyeballs like miniature Persian rugs!”
Accordin’ to legend (read fake nooz for real stoopid people before the internets or books), alla these weirdsy hairs belonged to the devil.
Get evryone together had ‘em sproutin’ outta their non-crack flesh an’ — SHAZAM! — instant fuckin’ SATAN!
That kinda got me thinkin’.
What about we all got parta sum celestial dragon insidea us?
Alla us, evry last one?
Beautiful an’ majestic creature ain’t never gonna come together, cos so manya us are either dead or unborn, but I figure potentially she persists as an ever-present lifeforce breathin’ superdraconic energies into one an’ all.
(Gotta figure this never comin’ together deal applied also to the Satan hair scenario, meanin’ he was never ever gonna manifest — which only goesta show how much smarter ‘bout stuff like that we got since the Medieval epoch. FFS, those people were so frickin’ lame!)
When any two hoomans meet up, opportunity always exists for ‘em to hack one another’s inner draco.
An’ the more peopleya got together — sportin’ event, music festival, astrologer-hungry mob in the mall — the moreya gonna hear fluttera wing, feel heata flame, hear musica dragonsong.
Aries to Pisces, we can all zen out on draconic energies without pullin’ in a potentially contradictory viewa the Cosmos involvin’ irritatin’ roosters (an’ frickin’ snakes also — no way am I havin’ no serpent undulatin’ disturbingly round my apartment!) while adoptin’ a broad philosophy sees dragons in a positive light.
So the Asimov dragon rule would be kinda we are all inherently compatible as hooman beings, so go sweet on one another.
But … I Still Get My Asshole Licked, Right? By A Monkey?
Maaaan — ever get the feelin’ you are jus’ talkin’ to your frickin’ self…?
Title Image c/o Josch12 @Pixabay
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Thing is, this person’s profile page leads with a whole buncha shotsa schloopy snails.
They are so juicy an’ squishy an’ sucksy!
Prolly you could moosh one inya navel an’ get a real cool suck effect. Schloop schlooop schloooooop typea thing.
Go see! They are so cool!