The other day, my shrew of a friend, Harper, called me a bitch for telling her that she looked “a little bloated.”

“I’m not being a bitch; my Gemini moon is in retrograde, which causes me to be more honest and expressive towards others. You know that.”

“I thought you said astrology was stupid,” she shot back.

“I never said that,” I rebutted.

She rolled her eyes, “You literally told me the other day that astrology is for idiots and that horoscopes are fake.”

I had to explain myself again (something us Capricorns hate doing), and the officer had the nerve to tell me that I had “committed a crime.”

“I only said that because my horoscope said I’m not ready for love right now, but I totally am!”

“You just ghosted a guy because he asked you to be his date to his brother’s wedding.”

“Okay, the Cancer in me is feeling really attacked right now,” I said as I choked back tears.

How dare she. I told her multiple times that Cancers are “very emotional and sensitive.” I couldn’t believe I had to remind her after that time I cried in Arby’s when the cashier asked me to repeat my order.

She apologized, and I told her that because my ascending Libra hates conflict, I could find it in my heart to forgive her.

Later that day, my mom called to tell me that our dog died. In between her loud gasps for air, I told her I didn’t have time to talk. I was in the middle of pressing a really great juice.

“I can’t believe this,” she sobbed. “Our beloved dog of 15 years is dead and all you care about is yourself.”

This really irked my descending Scorpio.

“I don’t only care about myself!” I screamed over the whirring of my juice press. “My sister moon is in Sagittarius, so I shut down emotionally to help cope with loss or stressful situations! I told you that on Christmas after I punched mall Santa when he told me it was $25 for a photo.”

I hung up the phone, took a deep breath, and called my mom back to apologize. I told her I didn’t blame her for getting so upset; it’s just in the nature of her Virgo moon.

The next day, I went to Anthropologie looking for accent throw pillows and was viciously attacked by the store associate.

“Ma’am, you have to pay for those,” she said as I headed towards the door with two pillows tucked under my arms.

“Excuse me?” I pressed.

She stood in front of me, blocking the door. “You need to pay for those or I’ll call the cops,” she said firmly.

“It’s Aries season,” I explained.

She stared at me, blankly.

“Which means now is the time to take on a challenge; to trailblaze the path for others around you,” I explained.

She paused. “You’re shoplifting.”

“I’m challenging capitalism and the scam that is high-end retail corporations,” I said as I passed by her and walked out the front door.

Apparently, she didn’t understand the complexity of what it truly means to be an Aries because three minutes later, I was in the back of a cop car.

I had to explain myself again (something us Capricorns hate doing), and the officer had the nerve to tell me that I had “committed a crime.”

At the station, I met my cellmate, Andrea, who told me she’s in for the murder of her sister and ex-boyfriend. I’m not worried though; the Pisces in me is hopeful we’ll get out soon.

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