Friday, June 4, 2010

What’s yo sign?

I read my horoscope today and it was depressing.
It pretty much said, in not so many words, that I need to “calm down, take a deep breath” and stop being a bitch.
But, how did they know???

My horoscope is always depressing. I’m an Aries, and apparently that makes me stubborn, hard-headed and...bitchy.
Cosmopolitan Magazine even had a “what’s your astrological sign style?” and the “Aries girl” was wearing all red with leopard heels with a big fat “FIERCE” written on the top of the page.

(“Fierce,” by the way, is just a nice way of saying, “bitch.” Thanks, Cosmo. I actually look better in green, so suck it.)

I think horoscopes are funny little things, and even though I am a total bitch skeptic, I read mine as often as possible.
I also read my boyfriend’s horoscope and an ex-friend’s, just to see if either are in imminent danger. I’d prefer the latter. Ha

I remember really wanting to be a Gemini sign when I was in high school because that’s the sign for twins, and I am a twin.
How cool would that be?? My twin sister, Joy, and I would say. We’d have to get Gemini tattoos!
But, no. We are both Aries and our sign is the ram. An angry bull. Not tattoo-worthy.

When we all had fake I.D.’s (uh, to get into R-rated movies, mom) my friends and I would memorize what our alter ego’s sign was, just in case the bouncer…I mean, ticket attendant asked.

“Okay, okay, she was born in May, so she’s a Taurus!” we’d practice. Turns out, nobody asked us for our signs. Ever. It was a complete waste of information.
Perhaps memorizing the correct spelling of my decoy’s last name would have been more useful. (D’OH!!)

Sometimes astrological signs can rub people the wrong way.

My friend, Ashley, was at a bar and ordered birthday shots.
“Oh, it’s your birthday?” The bartender asked. “Mine was last week!”
“Oh! So you’re a Libra, too?” she asked. “Do you have trouble making decisions, too?”
What could have been flirty banter quickly turned ugly. She hit a nerve.

“Geez, what’s his problem?” we all wondered.

I once bought underwear that said ARIES on the front and listed my supposed qualities on the butt including “outgoing, smart, happy, determined.”
(they were red of course)

I find it hard to believe that the month you were born can dictate your personality. I mean, if Joy and I were born one day later, we’d have fallen under the Taurus sign (which is supposedly a very level-headed, serious and pleasant person). Am I supposed to believe that one day can mean the difference between a pleasant person and a bitch?
Doesn’t that have more to do with one’s upbringing? Or how much alcohol they’ve had to drink?

I actually think that all horoscopes can apply to everyone, and if you cover the name of the sign and read the description you could relate to each and every one. Scorpios, Virgos and Capricorns call all agree:

Hey, I’ve got “new investments that seem promising!”
I "meet new and exciting people!"
I… “get so lost in ideas that I temporarily lose touch with the material world?”
Oh, whatever.

I’m still waiting to read that a dumbbell will drop on my ex-friend’s head.


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