Taurus April 20 - May 20
Ribbit, ribbit, I'm a frog!
Venus walks around your week in furs. It must have been that Andy Warhol thing on down at the Tate that did it.

Leo July 23 - August 22
Tackle the smaller problems this week.
Oh sure, people will think you're a wimp and probably try to take advantage of you, but with your finely honed small problem tackling ability, well, you'll still have difficulty with the people picking on you. So either way, really. It's best probably just to sit there this week, as no matter what you do you're going to hate it.

Virgo August 23 - September 22
You will pilot the first personed mission to Jupiter this week!
Unfortunately all the equipment you're given, owing to government cutbacks, is a Volkswagen van, a months supply of oxygen, and a lot of vouchers for skeeball.
You and the other Virgos get extremely, possibly unfairly, good at skeeball.

Gemini May 21 - June 20
"Gaaaaargh!"
Ooooh, aren't you scarey this week?
If you're a celebrity, this week you'll have to water your garden, lest all the plants in it die.

Capricorn December 22 - January 19
...Ah yes, the Groundhog Day, that fantasmical holiday. The one on which you set in motion the events, the very events, that would change your life... well, the ones you had no choice but to kick in motion, as they were foretold and predestined by the motions of the stars, but you know what I'm driving at.
Little did you know taunting that waitress light-heartedly would turn so well in your favour, and now, as you sit in your little gilded throne, leading an army of people who finally threw off the tyranny of cranky waitresses and busboys, you finally can smile that smug sort of smile you always wanted to do and cuddle up against both the leopard print throw you've draped casually over your throne and the person of the sex you prefer to be attracted to that found your heroism and leadership so very, very attractive.

Cancer June 21 - July 22
This Saturday, as Venus rises in the southern sky (or northern, depending where you are, and in which direction you're facing, eastern and western coming in to play if your bed has shifted during the night), and dawns breaks over the day slowly from one end of the planet to the other, the stars will be swirling and twirling their cosmic powers that be, preparing to hurl them in your general direction, splattering you with the metaphorical builder's cement of the astrological mysteries, and it'll look remarkably like a display of flags, really, like the one they have down at the Eden Project.
Wear something warm(ish), with probably a change, maybe, for the evening sort of time(ish - again). You will inevitably look sexy.

Pisces February 19 - March 20
Various forces in the Universe conspire to give you a really wicked hairdo on Wednesday.
Now, take wicked accordingly (ie. if you're from Massachusetts, "really really good", from anywhere else it probably has vaguely witch-like connotations).

Aries March 21 - April 19
You will learn how to play the bongo this week.
If you're efficient about it you'll have time left over to lounge about and impress your buddies with your bongo-playing skills.

Libra September 23 - October 22
Libras this week face an uphill battle against a horde of Mongols, yes, the very same Mongols that used to make appearances in the horoscopes a few years ago or so.
Here's a lesson you should have learned from back then: don't use the catapults.

Scorpio October 23 - November 21
This space for rent. Post no bills.

Sagittarius November 22 - December 21
You have a sneaking suspicion it was Bill who put you in the jar of formaldehyde in the first place, though your memory is slightly hazy, to say the least.
As that appears to be the case, you're less than keen about accepting his warnings about gingivitis, anyway. You'd like to tell him so, and possibly a few other things, but are afraid of getting a mouthful of formaldehyde, which is an understandable fear, really.

Aquarius January 20 - February 18
This is the first week of the rest of your life being an undeserving millionaire. By the rest of your life we mean as long as you remain an undeserving millionaire and fail to do anything to deserve the millions or become an undeserving something-else-with-considerably-less-money. And we're not predicting imminent end-of-life if either case takes place.
You should enjoy it by sitting by your brand new pool and chemically-created warmer atmosphere around your retreat home in Norway, which you were able to pick up relatively cheaply.

[Horoscopes. For all you ex-NeXTers out there, missing the work shelf.]