“You need order, security and self-assurance to truly thrive. You generally maintain very secure and stable relationships, but that may be because you’re wary of change — you try to avoid chaos and indecision at all costs. Loosen up, bro. Since you’re not a big risk-taker, your best bet is a versatile, mild, run-of-the-mill cheese, like cheddar or Havarti, neither of which will send you into a nervous tizzy at first bite.”
Believe it or not, this is not a late night iPhone note to self I found this morning along with an empty pint of ice cream. It is my cheese horoscope according to Buzzfeed.
While most of my cheese horoscope is strangely accurate (I guess I might be a little wary of
change), one thing is not; I am not a “mild, run-of-the-mill cheese like a Cheddar or Havarti.” In fact, every part of that statement is false. I do love (and identify with) cheddar, but not some bland helpless cheddar. If I am to be cheddar then I will be nothing shy of Cabot Creamery’s six-month aged Vermont Cheddar, or perhaps Weinlëse’s Cheddar with powerful blue veins coursing through my body.
Intrigued by the shameful truths hidden in my cheese horoscope, I wanted to see how others fared against their cheese horoscopes. Has the great aggregator tapped into the celestial genius of cheese? Only one way to find out.
First up, Capricorns: notorious for being workaholics, these goat-people to learn to kick back and relax with some booze-infused cheese, like Kerrygold’s Irish Whiskey Cheddar. A college roommate who happens to be a Capricorn introduced me to this treat on a night the stars aligned into a perfect wedge of cheese. It was delectable, and a few whiskey drinks later he embarked on a 20-page term paper that was due in the morning. Workaholic? Yes. Cheeseaholic? Yes.
My sister’s cheese identity is Babybel, and her horoscope states, “the energy you invest in pretty much everything you set your mind to often results in grand achievements.” This makes perfect sense when I think back to crippling memories of her “investing energy” in not sharing a bag of Babybels with me, and the “grand achievement” of making me cry. Although our palates and fighting techniques have since evolved, I’m sure I could still find a bag of those waxy red treasure chests in her fridge.
Upon further review, I think you may be on to something here, Buzzfeed. If only your next horoscope, Food-Related Injuries, would come out, so I can prepare for the next time I legitimately slice my finger on linguine’s razor-sharp ends while breaking it in half like I did last night. That would be useful.
Side note: Am I the only one who read the Sagittarius horoscope? I will have one pound of your finest moose cheese, please. And some moose sausage. I’m making moose lasagna.
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