It's about time...

Aries (3/21 – 4/19):   Did you notice how everything comes in turkey now?  Things that are other species, like bacon, hamburgers, and smoked salmon -- they all come in turkey.  Anyway, horoscopes do not come in turkey, they're as fattening as ever.  But sadly, your week will come in panda.  You'll have a cuddly, adorable, semi-endangered week that climbs trees.  But here's the tip, Aries: things are never black and white. Study the gray.

Taurus (4/20 – 5/20): I've been working hard at laughing more during the work day, and it's not easy because everyone is so annoying, and it's totally them, not me, and most of the people who make me laugh have gone, so I'm left trying to create new people to fill that role, but everyone isn't on board.  Example:

Him:  Yeah, so I think they need to sign a restrictive covenant, blah blah blah.
Me:  Hey, you should swing by my cubicle and be funny occasionally, eh?
Him:  Um... Anyway, about that permit....
Me:  I'm serious!  I'm as serious as climate change, and sadly, so is this workplace.  Make it stop. 
Him:  Um, so do they need to notarize covenant before issuance?

My point, Taurus, is don't just read the bumper sticker.  Be the change I want to see in the world!

Gemini (5/21 – 6/21): Me:  Don't forget, you're on my Zombie Apocalypse team.
Him: What's the zombie apocalypse, again?
Me: It's where we hang out in a big box store trying to protect our brains from being eaten by the undead.
Him:  Oh, right.  Why am I on your team again?
Me: I know!  I've been wondering the same thing.

The point of this, dear Gemini, is that ultimately, we're all on the same happy happy team, and there's no need to worry about the ZA (yet). 

Cancer 6/22 – 7/21:  Does the news ever feel really disjointed, like, on the same day that Hosni Mabarak is wheeled into court on a bed, and bad stuff is happening in Syria, we learn that Buzz Aldrin is coming to the space needle to kick off a contest to see who gets to go into space.  (They're looking to send "an average person" into space.  That rules you out, Cancer.  Above average in all ways.)  And then yesterday, they sent a rocket to Jupiter.  Does life seem like one of those weird dreams, that are disturbing but you can't always tell why?

Leo (7/23 – 8/22): It turns out you're an Internaut, Leo, which is a lot like an astronaut without the diapers and Tang.  But you should never go into the web without an exit strategy and provisions, even though it looks safe at first glance. 

Virgo (8/23 – 9/22):  You Virgos always get the geeky horoscope.  But seriously, I'm just a vessel, don't blame me.  At any rate, there are two kinds of time travel  -- the kind where you can't kill your grandfather because it's a paradox, and the other kind. The Morphail Effect causes the time traveler to be ejected from the time if he/she is about to create a logical paradox, thankfully, which explains why we're all still here, (even though time travel will get discovered in the future).  I've got a feeling that Morphail Effect could happen to you this week.  Uggh.  Don't do it, Virgo.  Don't create the logical paradox.  You never know where you'll end up.

Libra (9/23 – 10/22):  Do you ever feel like some aspects of your life could be a Jerry Springer episode?  Anyway, enough about that.  You have a bucket now; make the list.  Start doing things, one at a time.

Scorpio (10/23 – 11/21):  Thank god that heat wave ended, eh?  Back to fleece, after two days of 77 degrees. I hope you stayed well-hydrated.  Okay, back to the news, though.  Did you hear about the Pakistani man who killed six of his daughters because he thought two of them were dating older boys from the university?  That is really, really sad, and probably not the best teaching tool.  I'm not getting anything on your horoscope.  Nothing at all. 

Sagittarius (11/22 – 12/21): The other day I got a text from R that said, "I think I just threw up in your chili." I was puzzled, because, well, wouldn't you be?  I don't even have any chili.  I replied with a question mark, and he wrote back,  "Oh, sorry, that was my other quick text.  I meant to send you, 'Thaaaannnnkkks Mooooommmm", but I picked the wrong quick text."  That, my friends, is planning ahead.  Because if you were to throw up in someone's chili, it would be good to notify that person, and you might not really feel up to the task, so upon reflection, I decided that the quick text is an excellent idea.  Sag, plan ahead this week.  

Capricorn (12/22 – 1/19):  Did you hear about that guy in the trailer park in Tennessee who reported his picture of Jesus stolen?  For some reason, I had to read the story over and over, and then find more stories to read about it, but they're all the same.  None of them answer the questions I have.  Like, wait, so Veronica wipes Jesus's brow when he's trudging around with literally, his own cross to bear, and that rag has an imprint of Jesus' face on it?  Okey dokey, just go with that.  But then this picture is a painting of that exact rag, and was blessed by the pope, and made it's way to a trailer park in Tennessee?  And then it was stolen?  Who goes to a trailer park for a crime spree?  Even if that does happen, who steals a picture of Jesus that's in an envelope in a drawer?  And then tries to sell it to a nearby Catholic church?  I'm not seeing it, Capricorn.  The horoscope here is this:  dig into your week.  Ask a lot of questions, see if you can really try to understand what's going on in the world.  (If you figure it out, lemme know, wouldja?)

Aquarius (1/20 – 2/18): Does it seem like every time you turn around, a bicyclist or an eagle is involved in a fatal traffic accident?  That is not right.  Look both ways when you cross the street, no running with scissors, chew your food carefully, and so on.  The thing with the eagle, I'm told, is that it gorged itself on roadkill, and then couldn't maneuver very well.  So that too:  no gorging on roadkill.

Pisces (2/19 – 3/20):  I'm sure you've heard about the guy who was caught trying to split atoms in his own kitchen in Sweden.  He says, "I have always been interested in physics and chemistry," and he just wanted to "see if it's possible to split atoms at home."  Pisces, he was arrested.  My point, dear Pisces, is this:  stop excavating for that super collider in your back yard.  Play with legos or make a collage instead.  If Higgs Boson wants to be found, it will appear before you just like the kudzu jesus (which is actually trumpet vine).