When taking a road trip this month, consider this warning from the stars: at some point on the trip, you’ll probably have a hair-trigger, aggressively vicious temper tantrum. Calm your inner blaze, my Aries. Check your fury at the car door, or place it in a lockbox in the trunk and put the key in your pocket for easy access at rest stops. Be aware of inevitable music selection tension—“I’m All Out of Love” could be the cause of physical violence. Let it go.
On a business flight this month, you’ll sit next to an ST: a Smelly Talker. Breath like rotten onions—a thick, humid stench emanating from a mouth that won’t shut up. Primal instincts will tell you to punch the person in the face and prop his or her head up with a pillow so it looks like they’re sleeping. Don’t do that—it’s too risky (although it would it provide hours of clean air, peace, and quiet).
A safer bet would be pulling a Psycho—try foaming at the mouth, mumbling nonsensicals, or diabolically laughing at nothing in particular—your ST will move, or better yet, be to afraid to move, let alone speak again. Either way, you win.
Your logical, informed mind is an asset this month: political debates on a weekend getaway will be a one-sided route with you on the winning end. But beware of straying far from your normally kindhearted nature with excessive taunts, chides, and thoroughly detailed insults about opponents’ underdeveloped facial features and deep-rooted mental decencies. Also, stop staging political debates against seven year-old boys.
You’re not a horrible person if you tell your overly enthusiastic cousin you don’t feel like visiting this year. Be true to your intrapersonal honesty dynamic without letting your natural sensitivity get the best of you. Stand strong on your initial assessment of the situation: your cousin is annoying and you’d rather bathe with rats than visit her for longer than ten minutes.
Embrace your creativity this month and go on an artistic retreat! Ditch your cubicle cage and seek out some much needed solace in the woods. Maybe it’s a friend’s summer home or an organized retreat for aspiring artists. Whatever it may be, let nature’s sublime beauty whisk you and your new friends away to your own personal fantasy land: a house in the woods fully stocked with liquor and hard drugs.
It’s time to go on your annual whirlwind, cross country trip with the girls where you’ll hit the hottest clubs in Miami, New York, and LA. This time around, try something new: raise your usually low standards. You’ll be presented with lots of options—some good, some bad, some homeless, and some addicted to crack. Please, choose wisely through the steady haze of vodka and peach schnapps. Like the fairy tale goes, what seems like a prince on the outside can really be a middle-aged man with hair plugs, a spray-on tan, and a propensity to claim he’s Robert Goulet … on the outside.
You’ve known for some time that your grace and refinement is unmatched on this earth. With that being said, avoid vocalizing this internal knowledge to the locals during your annual summer beach holiday. Like you, they also have had their own self-realization: mugging uppity out-of-towners is fun.
For you, it will be a month of leisure and reflection. On a serene Fiji beach, you’ll meet an obese, hairy-backed, Speedo-wearing man who calls himself “Satchmo.” He’s friendly and kind, but, in general, pretty physically revolting. Your sympathetic heart will humor him for an hour, but then soon grow weary of his constant, often harebrained, chatter. Finally, you’ll take your leave—yet, he’ll sit there, in a kind of trance, continuing to mumble about past accomplishments and his favorite place to buy hairpieces.
To make a long story short, you’ll meet Jerry Lewis on a trip to Fiji this month.
At last, you’ll accept an annual invitation to go sky-diving from a group of your old thrill-seeking college friends. When you get up in the plane high in the sky and it’s finally time to jump, anxiety will creep into your thoughts: God, it’s a mile down. A mile. Vertically. This is nuts. Can I really do this? What if I die? Who will take care of my kids? What if my parachute doesn’t open?
You turn to the skydiving instructor and begin to mouth, “I can’t do this.” And that’s when you realize that it’s no time for asking questions and whining and regret. It’s time for action. So, you shit yourself and fake a dramatic faint back into the plane.
Your frigid ways could get you into trouble this month. On a family vacation in Mexico, your partner will, for the first time in two years, try to grab your breast. If you smile, grab his or her breast and make love wherever you are, you’ll resurrect your downtrodden partnership and live happily ever after. If you push his or her hand away and walk away, you’ll wake up the next morning with no partner and $1,205 billed to your room. Later, you’ll examine the bill more closely and see that all the money was spent evenly into two categories: beer and soft-porn movies.
The stars hint that your natural modesty will serve you well this month. At your yearly out-of-town family reunion, redirecting polite praise from your annoying relatives will serve you well. An example: “You look wonderful, Alice.” “Not as wonderful as your trophy wife, Uncle Kenneth.”
Thanks to an unfortunate late-developing terrestrial formation, you can expect your week-long trip to Cancun with your best, newly-dumped, and slightly crazy friend to have a few snags. Well, maybe just one. See, you prepared and remembered to pack everything. Your down-in-the-dumps friend didn’t—she was too busy crying and ripping up old couple pictures. And so only upon landing on the sunny shores of Mexico will she realize that her lone, very important bottle of Zoloft is not in her purse, but is instead standing idly on her nightstand back in the States.
Prepare for more mood swings than warm ocean breezes and, on Karaoke night, more screechy, teary-eyed renditions of “All By Myself” than beach vendors offering two for one Montezuma’s Revenge T-Shirts.
Ben Simmons is a San Francisco-based writer who coincidentally also works for DivineCaroline. Ben 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.