Ok, now the horoscopologists are just fuckin' with me:
"The month kicks off like a semi-pro soccer player."
Semi-pro?? I want fuckin' PRO, man. I'm not a half-assed type. No self-respecting Leo is. Semi-pro? I don't even know what the fuck that means. Fuck that. You can keep your semi-pro kick-off.
And then it goes on to say (and I swear on my collection of Victoria Secret's thongs and matching leapard print bras that I am not making this up):
Learn the art of ice-block sliding.
Wtf? HUH? (Still, copied directly from my horoscope):
You know, where you get some blocks of ice and slide down the hills and dales of the local park.
There are... just so many things... wrong with this I don't know how and where to begin; or what questions to ask... it's spring... no ice here... overloading with questions... locking up... Wwwwhy?? Why would anyone do this and where do you get the ice and it's just... dumb, right? Did I miss something? and... and... and WHY????
And the big finish:
Good for you, tiger!
This can mean only one thing. My horoscope thinks I'm a little boy.