The winter air wafts through the cracks in your kitchen window. Like a frosty spirit, it drifts through the living room and seeps underneath your bedroom door. As you lie there mouth-breathing and dreaming of goblets of mulled wine, the coldness grips your toes. Your thighs shiver and your stomach buckles. Your face contorts and pales as the chill envelops you whole.
Yes, the holidays are here. It’s freezing outside, your in-laws are coming, and all your hard-earned money will be spent on knickknacks for people you don’t even like.
Joy to the effin’ world.
Sagittarius
The economy’s in the toilet, but you still have to buy presents. You can’t afford what you could in the past, but that’s okay. It’s the thought that counts, isn’t it? You could give your children anything and they’d be grateful, right? Maybe a letter saying how much you love them? A handmade book of pictures chronicling their lives? Ughhhmmm … no. You will never hear such shrieks. It will be as if a dozen starving crows were let loose inside your home. Your nubile brethren are like the rest of America’s kids—spoiled rotten. Toss the sentiments and take out a loan. You’re in for a long winter.
Capricorn
Loading up on the beans, eh, Caps? A glorious spread of roast beef, ham, yams, taters, and casseroles lies before you … yet you’re working exclusively with baked beans. That’s all you’ve got on your plate. Okay, now you’re back for thirds? Wow. Here’s a tip, Caps: you don’t want to eat too healthfully on the holidays. I mean, first of all, you want to enjoy the company of your family and friends. Second of all, you don’t want to poop your pants ... oh, God. You already did, didn’t you? Tell me you’re joking. You didn’t, Caps. You did! Wow. Get the hell out of there. Seriously. You’re an animal. You’re a selfish animal, Caps!
Aquarius
This time of the year brings good tidings. Or more debt. Depends on how you look at it, right, Aquarius? Some people don’t mind having debt. Some people get depressed. You’re in the middle. You’re not super stressed out about it, but you want to have peace of mind. Well, it’s your lucky day. I’m here to give you a solution: absinthe. A distilled, highly alcoholic beverage, absinthe makes you crazy and criminal, provokes epilepsy and tuberculosis, and has killed thousands of French people throughout history. Just the thing to get you through the holidays!
Pisces
Building a snowman is a lost art. Gather your kids around you and teach them how to roll the perfect snow spheres. Teach them how to stack the spheres one on top of the other. Teach them how to shove an old carrot into the snowman’s face and put buttons in for his eyes. Teach them how to make a mouth out of twigs or raisins. But stop there—don’t get too creative. If one of your kids tries to add some other feature—say, a beard made from straw—reprimand him harshly. No pipes; no scarves, either. Just a plain American snowman. Teach your children to think inside the box, to create only what has already been created many times over. Teach them so that they may teach their children, and so on and so forth, until the end of time.
Aries
I know you envy the bears, Aries. They forage and eat during the summer and spring and then they hibernate for months on end. If you could be like the bears and just eat and sleep in peace, you’d be content. For now, you’ll just watch Animal Planet and become more and more jealous. Why? Because whenever you overeat, you’re called fat. When you oversleep, you’re called lazy. But what are the bears called? Majestic creatures. It’s not fair, Aries, I know. You must work hard so that one day you can live like a bear. In the meantime, eat a lot of salmon.
Taurus
I know, Taurus—the frigid weather is killing your supreme beauty. When you come home and look in the mirror after walking the dog around the block, it seems you’ve aged a year since you left. It’s those bitter, unforgiving winds, dear Taurus. They will batter you until spring comes, so you’d better load up on your only defense: Vaseline. Slather it on in heaps. Trust me—get a spatula and really dig in there; once you’ve got a big ol’ globby glob of that stuff, spread it all over your face and neck and chest and forehead and ears. ’Twill help you get through the harsh conditions and will also provide a lovely sheen as you host holiday gatherings.
Gemini
Gemini, maybe it’s time for you to be more of a typical man—because your husband certainly isn’t. The sink overflowed. What’d he do? He watched football. A pipe burst. How’d he handle it? He went to the pub. Your car won’t start. His solution was to open the hood and literally punch the engine to get it started. He failed. Your pocketbook is getting smaller as repair people flood your home. All the while, your husband twitches apathetically. You’ve got to understand something, Gem: a hairy chest does not a man make. Nor does a beard or eating two pounds of sausage in one sitting. Look, it’s too late for him to learn how to be a man now, so you might need to just cut your losses and marry the plumber.
Cancer
Hark! See the snowflakes fall. Aye, the hills sparkle with the soft dust from the heavens. The peaks shimmer in the moonlight, as if an angel were spreading joy all over this land. The roads art covered in nearly a meter of glorious powder! The garage—do you see? ’Tis obstructed mightily by a wall of ice two foot thick! Ha! To think, if we had ventured forth but a day before this onslaught of winter, our path to the airport would not be so impossibly obstructed. Yes, we’d be on the beaches of Hawaii right now, rested and relaxed, instead of buried in this freezing gloom with no power and no food except some canned peas and chicken bouillon cubes. All because someone wanted to watch Sunday Night Football and changed the flight without consulting anybody else. Aye, what an absolutely wonderful night this is.
Leo
Got to feed Santa, Leo. He needs his milk ’n’ cookies. Do it for the kids—they’ll cry if you don’t. Your children will have wet faces. I know you don’t want that. Plus, it’s theoretically your job. So be a mother. Hey, I know you’re tired. I know you need a bath. I know your kids are fifteen and seventeen. I know they dropped out of school and play video games all day. But this is the time for giving. Yes, I realize you’ve already given them so much: food, hundreds of video games, and all your recessive genes. But you haven’t done enough. Put out the cookies, Leo. Because your husband won’t.
Virgo
Did you ever in your wildest dreams think you’d be wearing a holy night–themed, red-and-green-striped vest over a cream-colored turtleneck? Back in college, when you wore only tights and halter tops, did you ever think you’d sport a horned-reindeer visor as you greeted your guests? Did you ever think you’d say things like, “No sex tonight, honey, I’ve got to go caroling”? No. But you’ve become a holiday junkie, Virgo. You’ve got a baseball cap shaped like the face of an elf that you actually wear in public. You’re really excited to show off your Christmas-tree dress at work. You light the menorah because your son-in-law is one-eighth Jewish, but he doesn’t even celebrate Hanukkah. You have seven Christmas trees. Virgs! Stop! Please. You’re obsessed. Worst of all, your husband’s deep into porn.
Libra
Libra, I know we live in America, the land o’ plenty, but must you indulge so? Holiday cheer does not equal a month-long all-you-can-eat buffet. Do you really need to shove roast duck into your mouth at such a rapid pace? My word, Libra, it’s two in the morning. No one else is around—there’s no competition for the food—so why have you eaten three pieces of chocolate cake in five minutes? You call that a midnight snack? Sorry, but “It’s the holidays” is not an acceptable excuse. Wow. Did you just drink out of the gravy boat? Shameful! Okay, now you’re just being slovenly. Stop funneling eggnog into your face!
Scorpio
This holiday season, you’re going to light up your life. You’re going to go to Home Depot and you’re going to spend $175 on two hundred yards of “festive” lights. But you won’t smile or laugh—no holiday cheer allowed. Just cold, calculated buying with a blank expression on your face. Then you’ll begin. Lights wrapped around bushes. Lights lining walkways. Lights on the roof. Lights wrapped around garden gnomes and bird fountains. Lights. Lights. Lights. But all those bulbs won’t brighten up the intense sadness you feel inside because Oprah is ending. Just a fact o’ life, Scorps.
Benji McSimmons is a Chicago-based writer who loves sweaty walks on the beach, strong bourbons, Michael Jackson, and the Faces of Death movie series. Benji has been gifted in divining the future since he was a wee lad; he knows now, for example, that he will be having a super burrito with steak in just a few hours.
The Visiting Visionary is a monthly column written by a different guest horoscopist each month. We will focus on a new topic every month so that our Visionary can foretell how it will affect each sign.
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