ARIES MAR 21 — APR 19
Excuses. You’ve been making a lot of excuses lately about your behavior, and it’s not helping. Seriously, you expect me to believe you’ve joined an East German death cult that meets on Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays? Damn it, Aries, if you don’t want to hang with me, just say so. (If you are telling the truth, please don’t kill me.)

TAURUS APR 20 — MAY 20
There are some who think a good stretch in the morning is really all you need for a long, healthy life. Others will tell you that stretching wrecks the blood flow and will lead to degenerate behavior. I’m on the fence, Taurus, but I think it’s probably a good thing to be able to pick up your keys without bending your knees. Hey, a rhyme! Gabbagabba.

GEMINI MAY 21 — JUNE 20
This is the most depressing time of year, Gemini. Seriously, science has proven it, it’s not up for debate. Think about it... we’re still weeks away from fucking March, a month which isn’t even that great, anyway. And Valentine’s Day? Self-loathing for the single, and thwarted expectations for the committed. Why can’t we hibernate like bears? WHY?

CANCER JUNE 21 — JULY 22
When I was a little kid, I really wanted to be a plutocrat. I thought this was some kind of astronaut who ventured to the farthest rings of the solar system; you know, the most hardcore of all the deep-space explorers. Oh how my childhood dreams were mere delusions. Now, Cancer, all I want is to not screw up my toast. Aim lower.

LEO JULY 23 — AUG 22
You ever just sneak up on your kitchen? You know, in the middle of the night, creep silently along the hall, slipping through the shadows... and then BLAM you throw the lights on and try to catch the room in the act! You’ve never managed to catch the kitchen in the act, have you, Leo? I think you should switch to felt slippers.

VIRGO AUG 23 — SEP 22
"Glockenspiel! Glockenspiel! Glockenspiel! Papa, papa, papa! The Glockenspiel has arrived! Oh papa, play us a song on the Glockenspiel, oh please, papa, won’t you, can’t you, will you!!?" said the children. "No, no I cannot, I will not play you a tune on the Glockenspiel." "WHY??!" "Because that is a xylophone." Think about it, Virgo.

LIBRA SEP 23 — OCT 22
I admit it, Libra, I was in a band in high school called "Dagoba." In my defense, this was before the "prequel" trilogy, when Star Wars still had a little dignity. We did a pretty wicked thrashy cover of "My Name is Luka" by Suzanne Vega. I was younger then. Do you look back in anger, sadness, or contentment? Don’t be afraid to feel all three.

SCORPIO OCT 23 — NOV 21
I think you should just lay low for a while, Scorpio, take a breather on the high intensity public appearances, lest you overexpose and become tiresome to your nearest (and your dearest). Leave em guessing a bit, restore some mystery to your existence... Being silent and withdrawn can be a really easy substitute for being interesting, which is hard.

SAGITTARIUS NOV 22 — DEC 21
Is your office colleague addicted to collecting instructional sex books and stacking them on his desk? Is this worrying to you? If you aren’t worried, perhaps you should be... Studies show that how-to sex books lead directly to Roaring 20s theme parties and affected antique slang. These are all bad things, Sagittarius, so maybe it’s intervention time.

CAPRICORN DEC 22 — JAN 19
Cross-country skiing is the perfect antidote to the winter blues. Nothing comes close to the exhilaration of gliding through snow-tipped pine woods, the sun daggering through the forest canopy, a thermos of whiskey-infused coffee in your pack, your cheeks red, your breath misting in your wake... What were we talking about, Capricorn?

AQUARIUS JAN 20 — FEB 18
Oh Aquarius, you’ve made me pretty happy. Maybe I have a hard time expressing this, convincing you just how much you matter... I know words aren’t always enough, and that action is the clearest statement in the end, but please let this humble horoscope serve as the briefest reminder of how great I think you are. The end.

PISCES FEB 19 — MAR 20
I accidentally texted someone the other day—:not such a big deal, right? Except the text I sent was a bitchy joke about the person I’d sent it to... OH NOEZ! Now this person, who happens to be a Pisces, like you, won’t talk to me, and is refusing to return my riding crop. Now I have nothing to mix my batter with. The moral? Don’t be such a bitch.