Taurus April 20 - May 20
Hairbands make excellent time-passing sort of playthings.
And I can say this with authority as I've spent the last forty-five minutes or so playing with one at my desk before starting these horoscopes.
Your week will be hairband-playing conducive.

Leo July 23 - August 22
... and you appear on the set of Friends as a ficus plant!
Which throws a small spanner in your plans for the week you finally managed to get out of Greenland.

Virgo August 23 - September 22
Whilst throwing out your bathwater this week you find a little green frog.
After consulting numerous manuals and finding nothing on throwing out frogs with the bathwater you figure that, to be on the safe side, since it might be a baby itself, you'd best not throw out the little green frog, as well.
After having set up the frog with a room and clean sheets you serve it some leaves of grass (oh ho ho ho, subtle Whitman reference, so droll!), at which it complains, as the grass isn't that day's cut, but probably two or three day old grass.
At which point you figure it's probably safe enough to throw out little green frogs with the rubbish, as there's never been a saying terribly close to that one, though it did complain about the quality of plastic in your "cheap-o bargain rubbish bags" on it's way out.
But you didn't catch most of the end of it, as you'd batted it out the back door with a frying pan when it began the tirade about your bin liners.

Gemini May 21 - June 20
Friends of yours begin building a very large wall around your flat. When you point out the decided lack of doors they don't seem terribly fussed.
This may make their attempt to stage an intervention (in which people take someone in a room and get to list all their bad points, and the person being maligned is supposed to take it all in stride as part of the healing process, though a delightful side effect has exposed the therapeutic properties of telling people about their faults, and volunteering to provide extra support at interventions is quite popular these days) earlier last week seem a whole lot more effective, and you might wish you hadn't told them to piss off, in slightly different, more violent words (and perhaps actions, but your hand slipped, honest).

Capricorn December 22 - January 19
As a Capricorn it's fairly well known that you derive great pleasure from chocolate-based entertainment, however, that's probably true of most signs. And a good deal of animals, as well, the ones that don't follow the whims and moods of the Zodiac, of course. As the others, the ones that do, would have been covered in that first sentence.

Cancer June 21 - July 22
A flying little green frog bounces off your head as you're out for a walk this week, almost causing severe brain damage.
Luckily, past the slight dent, you seem to be all right. The frog also seems all right, as it's now wobbling down the pavement, cursing at pedestrians as it makes it way into the pub on the corner.

Pisces February 19 - March 20
You see an innocent pedestrian almost killed by a flying little green potentially lethal frog.
This prompts you to raise your local representative (or MP, whathaveyou) and urge him/her to enact some sort of legislation regarding the mandatory use of frog helmets, lest we see more fatal little green flying frog injuries.
You ask him/her to make sure the frog helmet laws require a face guard to be on each frog helmet, just in case frogs start flying at more horizontal angles.

Aries March 21 - April 19
You almost kick a little green notably non-flying wobbly frog into the gutter (purely by accident, mind you). It gets around your potentially lethal foot and turns back to swear at you, just once, and you're just about to respond when you note that it's almost running now, for the pub, and you just shake your head and proclaim (mostly to yourself, though the public also passing on the pavement are welcome to listen in), "Damn alcoholic frogs," and solicit nods of agreement from passers-by.
You enjoy that the frog has a hard time with the door-minder, and has to wait until someone else leaves before it can get in.

Libra September 23 - October 22
A little green wobbly frog stumbles up to the bar next to you and asks you to buy them a drink.
You figure it'll probably be a cheap enough prospect, since the frog already seems drunk and can't likely drink all that much.

Scorpio October 23 - November 21
Nothing happens to you this week. At all.
This is because you have no horoscope. Because I didn't get one mp3 file from any readers.

Sagittarius November 22 - December 21
You sidle up to the bar and notice that there's a Libra sleeping (or at least drinking from an interesting angle) on the bar next to a rather loud little green now terribly wobbly frog, who is taking turns insulting the bartender and his whiskey selection (though they did have both Jameson's and Bushmills...), the other patrons of the bar, and someone with a frying pan, though you guess that might just be drunken ramblings, the frying pan bit.
You order a vodka and tonic, get insulted by the frog once for not ordering chips, it sounds like it might have said, you can't quite make out, and take your drink over to a far far corner, well away from the bar. Thailand. (Unless you're in Thailand already in which case... ehm... somewhere else.)

Aquarius January 20 - February 18
You burst into a pub on the corner after a tip from an anonymous Aries, and spot a crowd gathered around a spot at the bar.
Shouting, "Get down!" doesn't have any apparent effect on the crowd, nor does "Out of the way!" nor does "Move please!" nor "Free the lemurs!"
"Gaaaaargh!" finally gets people moving, or at least turning around, which allows you a clear view through to a little green mostly paraletic abusive frog leaning on a pint glass still insulting the surrounding patrons, not aware of the hush fallen over the pub otherwise.
And it's voice, too, goes silent when you shoot it down with your Tazer(tm, probably) through the gap in the crowd. You might have gotten a Libra, sleeping beside the frog, as well, but not too badly. Not nearly as badly as the frog, who is now little, fallen in a puddle of Stella, still (after having fallen, of course, as falling never counts as being still), and red, after the effects of the shock.
All of which goes over well. Even moreso when you explain that the frog was really master of disguise Rodrigo Dean Smith, and that you'd been hired by Citibank Visa to collect the money he owed on his credit cards and injure him, if possible.

[Horoscopes. Goodbye, Muse, thanks for everything. You guys rocked.]