ARIES: the scapula is the word for both your shoulderblades and the space on a bird where their wings meet their body. related: your shoulderblades shouldn’t do that thing they’re doing, please, for the love of god, go see a doctor. your lucky items are adidas sneakers, a crisp haircut, and the smell of clean laundry.

TAURUS: deep breaths and meditation don’t cure terminal illness. peeing the amount that you do is not healthy, and you should go see a doctor. your lucky items are plastic toys, tennis shorts, and take-out fast food.

GEMINI: the three worst kinds of people are sex offenders, nazis, and barbers who promise they know how to work with curly hair and then give you the worst haircut you’ve ever received. never, under any circumstances, trust any man named dwayne, unless “dwayne” is immediately followed by “the rock.” your lucky items are heavily scented lotion, turquoise jewelry, and a threateningly large kitchen knife.

CANCER: 4chan is a terrible place to go for mental health support. stop crying, asshole. your lucky items are pornography, a scalpel, and your warriors cats phase.

LEO: blessed are the hopeless romantics, for they could fall in love with a cardboard box if it glanced their way. the seven hours in the chair at the salon was worth it, your braids look fire. your lucky items are butterfly clips, acid rap on vinyl, and the faculty id of your physics teacher.

VIRGO: at a point, the line between morbid curiosity and genuine fascination becomes so fine that it could be carved with a surgeon’s scalpel. your laundry needs to be put in the dryer. your lucky items are an ipod nano, a red flannel shirt, and a fall out boy cd.

LIBRA: you need to learn to shut up before someone teaches it to you. wipe that annoying smile off of your face. your lucky items are pepper spray, a history textbook, and a mugging.

SCORPIO: your progress, just in general, is legitimately astounding, and i’d take part in it if i weren’t a coward. the habit you got into of going for a run every night was healthy and you shouldn’t have dropped it. your lucky items are d20, hair ties, and nair.

SAGITTARIUS: in only eleven out of the 50 united states is the age of consent 18. you would make a really good cowboy if this was the 1800s. your lucky items are a 1/2 inch drill bit, a stuffed poliwhirl, and a café regular paper cup full of coffee, which went cold ten minutes ago.

CAPRICORN: you’re stronger than nigh-everyone, especially when it doesn’t feel like it, and the progress you’ve made is worth the chipped nails from the crawl. clean out your bookshelf. your lucky items are double-stuf oreos, the brightest red lipstick the drugstore has to offer, and mrs. meyer’s dish soap. your patron saint is st. genesius.

AQUARIUS: lungs have the capacity to hold about six liters of fluid, but that doesn’t mean they should. gold jewelry should have gone out of style with tycho brahe, but do whatever i guess. your lucky items are season passes to the metropolitan opera, crystal chandeliers, and a crown, preferably on your head.

PISCES: humans don’t develop a sense of empathy until they’re in, like, first grade, which is equal parts adorable and terrifying to witness. tell your sister you love her more often; it makes her day more than she admits to. your lucky items are an owl, ukulele tabs, and polka-dotted overalls.