Laughably substandard muffins

Please excuse any typos as this horoscope was sent from my BlackBerry.

Gemini (May 21 - June 20)
Tonight you’ll accept an award for lifetime semi-achievement in whatever it is you do. You’ll smugly assert, “Even at the height of my success, I never forgot where I came from—my mother’s vagina.”

Cancer (June 21 - July 22)
The love you share with Taurus is a beautiful flower eaten by an indifferent cat. Join all available street gangs. You’ll smugly assert, “Even at the height of my success, I never forgot where I come from—my urethra.”

Leo (July 23 - August 22)
Mars becomes stationary in Aries; Aries begs for the pounding to resume. Cancer asserts, “Of course I come from my urethra. Where the hell do you come from? And don’t say your nostrils.” Focus on prognostications, Praguenostications, malcrapulence.

Virgo (August 23 - Sept. 22)
Today you’ll have a disappointingly brief and shallow epiphany. Gynecologist enquires, “You don’t come from these parts, do you?” As summer looms, you stockpile lard.

Libra (Sept. 23 - Oct. 22)
The planets have total sway over your two-year-old’s body. Look at those movements. The kid is definitely under some kind of remote control.

Scorpio (Oct. 23 - Nov. 21)
This afternoon you’ll gaze into the millionth vagina of your professional gynecological career. The one million and third overall.

Sagittarius (Nov. 22 - Dec. 21)
Mormons! Owner of the millionth vagina of Scorpio’s professional gynecological career gloats, “Best. Use of a concealed confetti cannon. Ever.” War, plague, famine disrupt jog.

Capricorn (Dec. 22 - Jan. 19)
Think about dowagers. Libra enquires, “Is that a confetti cannon in your vagina, or are you just happy to see me?” Meanwhile, your beloved Pisces fiancé apperceives the rough hands of a Gentile caressing her alabaster thighs, and feels a porcine shiver of forbidden lust.

Aquarius (Jan. 20 - Feb. 18)
As if the divine seeks to punish you for your transgressions, you’ll receive a mysterious phone call from a woman in drag claiming to be Humphrey Bogart.

Pisces (Feb. 19 - March 20)
Cowed cow kowtows. You’ll murmur, “Ah, if this old pelvic examination chair could talk,” and then, wistfully, switch on the pelvic examination chair compactor.

Aries (March 21 - April 19)
Moon in Libra portends a weekend of alarming tedium. Toes cow nose. Next fall your career as a forensic gynecologist will inspire a new late-night cable series, Pelvic Examination Chair Diaries.

Taurus (April 20 - May 20)
Performance art heist proves surreal, shoe tree. Aries explains, “It’s the story of a gay gynecologist who gets a lot of ass, a straight proctologist who gets a lot of pussy, and the bisexual perineumologist who binds them.” Cow’s nose knows toes.

If Today Is Your Birthday:
You’ll go overboard with your polite praise of your grandmother’s baking, causing her to get uppity and make a fool of herself by entering laughably substandard muffins in the elite division of the annual tri-county blueberry muffin bake-off.