Aries: At some point between the hours of 9 am and 5pm, a mariachi band will approach you. You will be manhandled with great ardor and french-kissed by the entire band. Even if you spend the entire day in your own home. Despite the fact that they will all smell of beer and carne asada, you can't argue with destiny, baby; might as well lean in and enjoy it.
Taurus: You will circle a parking lot for 23 minutes hoping to find a parking spot that is 65 feet closer to the store entrance than the six you will have already driven past. During this time, a darling little old lady who runs a schnauzer rescue will choke on a piece of pretzel inside the store. She will die. Had you settled for one of those parking spots a little bit farther out, you would have been the only person nearbyr who could have performed the Heimlich maneuver. But no. And now the schnauzers will all be euthanized, too. I hope you're proud of yourself.
Gemini: An unfortunate transit between Uranus and some other planet (I don't know which one--the word Uranus always cracks me up--where was I?) will cause your little plastic container of dental floss to fly from your hands as though it were possessed and land smack-dab in the middle of the toilet. That much is predestined. What happens afterwards will determined by your own free will. But, ew. Yuck. Really? God.
Cancer: When your back is turned, or when you are at lunch, or when you've only stepped out for a couple of minutes to see if the phone reception is better outside than in, somebody will move your cheese. They won't move it far. In fact, they'll probably just pick it up, make a half-turn, and set it back down again. Just to see if you'd notice. You will notice. And you'll find yourself wishing they'd moved the cheese farther away, because it's a smelly, runny kind of cheese, and you weren't terribly interested in eating it anyway.
Leo: Brush your hair for god's sake. You look like a wild animal. Did you just roll out of bed and put on the first shiny lycra catsuit your hand fell on, or was wearing that a plan? Oh, sure, you're pretty enough to get away with it at this age, but what do you think is going to happen when you get stretch marks and things start to sag? You're mighty proud of that hair, aren't you? Did I tell you to brush it? Brush it. Now. No, not in ten minutes. And stand up straight.
Virgo: The pimple you've been trying to keep your hands off is just going to continue being swollen and painful unless you do something about it. So off to the pharmacy with you. Get a small box of lancets, some rubbing alcohol, a bottle of Amaretto, some Anbesol, and Windex. Drink the Amaretto, not the rubbing alcohol. Numb that throbbing, aching zit with the anbesol. Then grab a lancet and go in for the kill. The Windex? That's for the mirror afterwards.
Libra: Beware the "Check Engine" Light. Due to the placement of Neptune in your carburetor, it is especially nefarious in your chart. You will do your best to comply with the light's airy, nonspecific order: popping the hood while the car is running, carefully applying the emergency brake, walking around to the front of the car, raising the hood, peering into a mystifying whir of belts, whizzy things, and the vague scent of burning motor oil. You will see much and comprehend nothing. Do not place your hands anywhere near moving parts. Trust us on this one. Having checked the engine, you will then close the hood, return to the driver's seat, and tell the dashboard, "Fuck off, I've checked the engine. I didn't see anything."
Sagittarius: That thing you do that you think nobody knows about? Everybody knows. Yes. EVERYBODY. You didn't really think you could keep something like that a secret forever, did you? Especially not after that little incident when you thought you'd nearly been caught but got away with it. The only thing left to do is man up, put down the bagels and cream cheese, and embrace the 12 steps. Except the part about being powerless. That thing you do with the 9-volt battery may be questionable, but it is definitely powered.
Scorpio: You will wake to the sound of screaming and try to turn it off by slapping at the snooze button. Your hairdryer will trip the circuit breaker. Your hairdresser will betray you. Your dog does not trust you. Some people are best left in the dark. Chloroformed. In a basement. Tied to a chair. With chain. And eels. Lots and lots of eels.
Capricorn: The email you just got from the Marketing Department titled "Happy Stroke Month" is not a joke. Ponder that for a while. Wonder whether Hallmark has gotten onboard with the whole Stroke Month thing. Wonder what a Happy Stroke Month card should say. Wonder whether a Happy Stroke Month card could even be read and appreciated by the majority of recipients. Feel deeply ashamed of yourself for wondering whether there's a Happy Stroke Month To You song, and whether the lyrics are all just kind a big jumble of slur. That's not funny. Grandpa had a stroke, you know. Everything's always a big joke to you, isn't it? Don't you think it's high time you called your mother?
Aquarius: Water, water, water, something about water, wet splashy water, moving water, fresh water, saltwater, stagnant water, waterboys, watering holes, making water, drinking water, watering the plants, water water everywhere and not a drop to drink, the waters of your soul, running water, walking water, crawling water, Fallingwater, waterfalls, Watergate, Whitewater, water rights, water wrongs, water softener, waterworks. There. Make something of that. Should be enough symbolism to keep you busy for weeks.
Pisces: As the 12th sign of the zodiac, you will be neglected by an astologer who is dead sick and tired of manufacturing horoscopes. You are the red-headed stepchild of the zodiac. Nobody cares. By the time the fortune-teller gets around to you, she's ready for a stiff drink and thoroughly disengaged. You got a light? Thanks. [Puff. Exhale.] Tell you what. Come back tomorrow and I'll see what I can do for you then. Right now I just need a nap.