Taurus (April 21 – May 21)
Last week was cute—it was adorable, baby—but if you really want to ignite your base and spur organic growth across multiple platforms, you’ve got to be edgier. Sexier. Unapologetic. No more blue sky thinking: It’s Blood Moon time. No more interacting with people on just a “human” level: We’ve got to make You an interactive social media experience with unlimited reach while remaining firmly (WINK) on brand. But hey, what do I know? I’m just an ad executive with a long track record of sexual harassment who dabbles in astrology.
Gemini (May 22 – June 21)
Y is the most mysterious and erotic letter in the alphabet. Try adding it to things to spice them up. Womyn. Magyk. Swyng Set. Ryth Badyr Gynsbyrg. See how easy and sexy it is, Gemyny? Gemyny? Where are you going? Gemmy…?
Cancer (June 22 – July 22)
Fed up with the budget cuts that led to the cancellation of its beloved space shuttle program, NASA privatizes the Zodiac, claiming that the field of astrology (a $3 billion industry) falls under its administrative umbrella. NASA immediately sets about rebranding, beginning with this very star sign! Cancer is what’s known in the fundraising biz as a “gold mine,” as it’s always been a little awkward as a name for a constellation. A bidding war breaks out between Berkshire Hathaway and Wal-Mart, but it’s Exxon Mobile that walks away with their own piece of the Zodiac. Sorry, Exxon Mobiles! But someone has to pay for our rides to the space station on Russia’s sputniks.
Leo (July 23 – August 22)
Raisins have been riding Cinnamon’s coattails for far too long. Well this is the week, Cinnamon, that you shake those turds and strike out on your own. Just look how well Peanut Butter’s done since dumping that sticky albatross Jelly. (And I hear PB’s manager is available!) You could see your name in lights—especially if you opt for Hollywood instead of the more obvious stripper route.
Virgo (August 23 – September 23)
Miscellany spills onto the floor. “What is that, one of those Naked juice things?” you say. “Hand it over.” The man’s shaking, but he complies. “Ever read the labels on these things? Do we really need three apples in here? Not exactly easy on the stomach. Four mangoes? How is that even possible?… Don’t get me wrong; I’m all for natural ingredients, but sugar’s sugar, right? There’s like sixty grams in one bottle… I dunno, guys.” You take a swig, while on the other side of the glass the bank teller can’t mash that panic button hard enough.
Libra (September 24 – October 23)
You will be forcibly removed from yet another Whole Foods premises, this time for shrieking at your girlfriend in the alternative dairy aisle, “BUT YOU CAN’T MILK AN ALMOND!”
Scorpio (October 24 – November 22)
A spirited confrontation erupts between yourself and a seventeen-year-old with pink hair when you decide to explore your options at the local frozen yogurt shop. Her position is that it’s against the rules to bypass the yogurt entirely and fill a cup with a hideous potpourri of toppings. You take a stand and refuse to befoul your cup of M&Ms, Lucky Charms, mochi, crushed Oreos, kiwi, and Reeses Pieces with even a dollop of froyo. Management is called. You’re vindicated by pointing out that nowhere in the yogurt shop is the yogurt requirement rule posted. The officious teenager is vindicated when you later become gravely ill.
Sagittarius (November 23 – December 21)
It doesn’t matter how much marble or smooth jazz you lay down, how many chandeliers and fireplaces you install: It’s still a men’s room, and it’s still a gas station, and your girlfriend still won’t have sex with you at work. (Also you probably won’t have a job much longer on account of all the wildly expensive, unapproved bathroom construction.)
Capricorn (December 22 – January 20)
A friend drunkenly confesses that you have a reputation as a merciless, judgmental gossip. (She never could hold her liquor.) But don’t panic, Cap; you just need to start pairing your truth-bombs with three key phrases:
(1) “I hope I’m not talking out of turn, but between you and me…”
(2) “This might sound racist, but…”
(3) “… bless her heart”
These three conversational palliatives will absolve you of responsibility for any opinions that precede or follow. Enjoy!
Aquarius (January 21 – February 19)
People try to make the best of things when two events celebrating Confederate History Month and School Library Month are booked across the hall from each other at your local community center. Stilted conversations are embarked upon and quickly abandoned. Mutterings of “revisionist” and “more like Stonewall Wackson” are clearly meant to be overheard. A raid on the librarian’s platter of Chips Ahoy leads to demands for reparations and several subsequent weeks of passionate Letters to the Editor.
Pisces (February 20 – March 20)
“It’s like Shark Tank but instead of entrepreneurs, they’re self-published poets looking for chapbook distribution—”: So ends the shortest elevator pitch in history. Sigh. We didn’t even make it to the third floor.
Aries (March 21 – April 20)
This is the week you get back into soccer. It’s been sixteen years, and you don’t know one other person who plays, but it’s definitely going to happen. You’ll join an intramural league or something. Weekends are no good because you’re gone a lot, but maybe like, Tuesday nights? Oh, there’s that work happy hour you drop by some Tuesdays. Mondays, maybe. There’s a reading once a month, but you can miss a game here and there. I mean you spent twenty bucks on a ball, so you kind of have to play now, right?
A.C. DeLashmutt is a Virginian living in New York. Her writing has appeared in McSweeney's, The Washington Post, theNewerYork, Flash magazine, and elsewhere. She also writes plays. Follow her on Twitter @acdelashmutt.
Evan Allgood's work has appeared in McSweeney's, The Millions, LA Review of Books, The Toast, and The Billfold. He lives in Brooklyn and contributes regularly to Paste. Follow and maybe later unfollow him on Twitter @evoooooooooooo.