Personality and your week

Aries (3/21 – 4/19): I was wondering about all the  ways you can test your personality, and came upon blood type as a determinant.  It said lots of nice things about me based on my blood type.  So far, that seems accurate, right?  To further verify, I texted B. to find out his blood type.  He got pretty nervous: "sheesh, do you need a transfusion or something?  WTF?"  Anyway, Aries, wouldn't this whole horoscope thing be a lot easier if I only had four things to write each week?  In these austere times, we may have to go to a blood type based prediction, but I'd hate to lose accuracy. . . Your week will be all about maintaining your high standards, against all odds.

Taurus (4/20 – 5/20):  Taurus, you are a very adventurous person. You love to try new things, but you get bored very easily.  You act like an adult, even when you don't feel like it.  Hmm,  I stole it from a website that describes your personality based on the contents of your refrigerator.  I had to guess what's going on in your refrigerator though, so I used my own.  If it turns out that you only have ketchup and beer, well, that's a whole 'nother matter, and don't blame me if your week is sketchy.  Buy vegetables. 

Gemini (5/21 – 6/21): There used to be 2.5 bullet holes in the ceiling of my laundry room; now there are three.  I don't think that's a good trajectory, do you? Is it water, mice, terrorists?  But you, my Gemini people, will suffer no such fate this week.  No bullet holes, no mice.  Just incense and flowers and some kickass bike rides for you.  Enjoy.  Oh, and not to make this all about me or anything, but sure, I'd go bike riding with you. 

Cancer 6/22 – 7/21: The newest taste sensation, I'm told, is fried Koolaid balls.  You've got your grease, your sugar, your red dye, and you don't even have to wash the dishes.  Make that for dinner one of these nights.  I dare you.

Leo (7/23 – 8/22): One day, the coworker known as I Haven't Been Trained In That saw that I was holding a walkie-talkie, and kept saying, "What is that?!!"  I kept repeating, "It's a walkie-talkie."  He got increasingly agitated, and was all, "Do I have to know that?  What is that?  I don't know what that is."  It was really just a walkie talkie, but now, any of us who were in the room at the time can just say, "What is that?!!" and the rest of us just laugh uncontrollably for a while.  It really wasn't that funny, but it's become a Pavlovian response.  See if you can find one of those this week -- something that's guaranteed to make you laugh, no matter what.  I'm not saying you're going to need it, but what's the downside of having an extra laugh in your kit?

Virgo (8/23 – 9/22):  Last year, Iran sent two worms, two turtles, and a rat into space.  This year, a monkey.  What will be next, Virgo, a Labradoodle?  A telly-tubby?  You won't be going into space this week, though, even metaphorically.  You'll be super-grounded, some might even say,... well, I wouldn't say it.  Just be glad you aren't a lowly worm or two turtles. But if you long for a little flight, the jetpack is now for sale!

Libra (9/23 – 10/22): Every week if the newspaper man remembers, I get the Sunday NYT delivered to my mailbox, and I immediately read two things:  the Lives essay, and Modern Love, because both are usually the best writing I've read all week.  But sheesh, this week Lives published the lamest essay ever.  Don't even click on that link, by the way.  Make your week like that -- like not clicking on the lame links.  Practice practice practice. 

Scorpio (10/23 – 11/21):  Over the past few years, my workplace has increasingly come to look like the site of some weird event, not exactly Pompeii, because there are no bodies.  More like a monster came and people ran off, leaving everything behind.  About 300 people have been laid off, leaving all their stuff.  Since we're the government, what we do is generate paper, and we're afraid to throw anything out because someone might want it.  Mountains of paper all over the place.  We've been asked to "go through everything and see what we can get rid of."  Which seems reasonable, but still challenging, right?  In case that was too easy, though, they've told us to a) be sure to recycle everything we can, and b) not to use the recycling bins.  In fact, they've been tipped over and labeled with a handwritten, anonymous note that says, "DO NOT FILL THESE".  Someone ignored the note, inverted the barrel, and (gasp!) recycled some paper.  In the bin!  Yeah, they were totally busted by that, in a global e-mail that came right after the one by the Exec who said we should all look for the obstacles to getting stuff done efficiently, and we should talk to our supervisors about that.  Because we've gotta clear out the obstacles, I tell you, we do.  Clear 'em out, Scorpio. 

Sagittarius (11/22 – 12/21): Do you ever feel like one of those shrimp on a treadmill, but without the $560,000?  No?  Me neither.

Capricorn (12/22 – 1/19): Thank goodness that Miss America is one of only two contestants who believe in evolution.  Sheesh.  That is seriously frightening, the state of science today.  If I were in charge, there'd be "Miss Scientific America", and you'd have to know what a non-Newtonian fluid is, and you'd have to be at least able to give a paragraph about string theory, and every single woman would be considered super hot because she'd probably be wearing a lab coat and quite possibly, a digital thermometer around her neck.  But that's not the world we live in, Capricorn, so get used to it.  But spread the word about evolution, would'ja? 

Aquarius (1/20 – 2/18): For reasons that I won't go all the way into, I looked up the Glasgow coma test, just to see where I fit, and I dunno, the internet highway is one weird place, that's all I've got to say.  I found a list of diagnostic tests for a coma that include urine and blood tests.  Seriously?  I am not a real doctor, but I think if you can pee in a cup, you're not in a legit coma, you probably just don't like your job very much.  See what you can do about that.   I think I scored 13, by the way, but I'm not sure what they mean by "N/A" for eyes.  Do you get 6 points for having no eyes?  What does it all mean, Aquarius?  Is that grading on a curve, or is there something else at play here?

Pisces (2/19 – 3/20): What did you make of that giant black hole that ate an enormous star?  Weird, or just confusing?  Let's break it down, shall we?  A black hole is a region of space where nothing ever escapes, not even light.  On the black hole, according to Wikipedia, there's "an undetectable surface called an event horizon that marks the point of no return."  I think that's a pretty confusing way to say that it's like that point in the Niagara River that you shouldn't paddle across, or you're going down.  Not to stray from the topic, Pisces, but don't you just love Niagara Falls lore?  More about that in the future.  Back to the event horizon -- past that invisible surface, you get permanently sucked in.  At any rate, my dear Pisces, you'll come close to your own event horizon this week.  Be careful.  Send up a flare and hold on to someone's boot if you can.