Aries Mar. 21-Apr. 19
Taurus Apr. 20-May 20
Gemini May 21-Jun. 20
Cancer Jun. 21-Jul. 22
Leo Jul. 23-Aug. 22
Virgo Aug. 23-Sept. 22
Libra Sept. 23-Oct. 22
Scorpio Oct. 23-Nov. 21
Sagittarius Nov. 22-Dec. 21
Capricorn Dec. 22.-Jan. 19
Aquarius Jan. 20-Feb. 18
Pisces Feb. 19-Mar. 20
Sixty-five percent of all Aries will fall in love this month. Thirty-two percent of you will end a strained long-term relationship. The remaining three percent of you will self-combust, leaving only a steaming heap of sticky goo behind.
Bending over to pick up what appears to be a 'Civil War commemorative coin' you are suddenly advanced upon by a drunken Ben Franklin impersonator wielding a four-foot plastic broadsword.
You will: fall in love, flip your lid, get a raise, make a new friend, poop your pants, kill a deer, catch on fire, punch a clown, scare a child, save a drowning man, miss an appointment, eat some bad meat, skip some rope, smoke some dope, find twenty bucks, and run out of gas twice.
You finally complete your lifelong dream of constructing a hunting cabin made entirely out of cork. You become overwhelmed with anger, sadness, and humility shortly after the first big rainfall. Keep your chin up!
Proudly you proclaim, "I am the seeker of truth, champion of the proletariat, friend of the animals. I have traveled from the pyramids of Egypt, to the far moons of Jupiter, I have felt the warm winds of Saturn". The crown applauds as a police officer wraps a blanket around your sweaty naked body and escorts you from D'Angelos.
You accidentally step into the wrong conference room while attending a conference at the Holiday Inn. Fascinated, you end up spending two hours in a seminar entitled 'Dwarves: more lovin per inch'.
Your New Years resolution turns sour one evening after losing bowel control while doing laps at the YMCA pool.
You'll be graced by a miracle this month. You see an image of the crying Virgin Mother amidst your bowl of Count Chocula. You take this as a sign to add more ruffage to your diet or to ease up on the crack.
New assignment, Spidey: come over to my house and wash some dishes. Also, if you wouldn't mind, would you take some of my shirts to the dry cleaners. Thanks a bushel! Talk to you next time.
This month looks pretty good for all your Capricorns, but let's try something fun. On March 3, at exactly 1:34 PM GMT, drop whatever you're doing and revert to 'mime mode' for the rest of the day.
The organizers of the local farmer's market don't appreciate your attempts to sell Velveeta Processed Cheese Spread and marshmallow fluff from your Chevy S-10 pickup. You make a narrow escape.
For the whole month, you acquire the ability to levitate grilled cheese sandwiches. Use your power wisely, this is not to be abused.