:::Today's Horoscope:::

ARIES (Mar 20ˆApr 19): Even if you are afraid of the uncertainty of your feelings, today would be a good day to push yourself past your normal emotional limits. You‚ll probably be able to get the support of your friends and associates˜at least that‚s how it will appear. Just remember that things may not be as they seem. Trust your own judgment more that you trust the words of others, unless, that is, they are reading poetry.

That's odd. It mentions nothing at all about the crappy day I have had so far. Maybe a hidden translation lies somewhere in the *uncertainties of your feelings* part. It's true, this morning I couldn't decide between "absolute rage" or "total disgust" when I couldn't get into my own car because the maroon Ford Expedition was parked 6 inches from my driver's side door. Ladies and gentlemen, Ford Expeditions may look big as they barrel past you on the road, forcing you left or right accordingly to Bernoulli's Principle. But I am here to state, for the record, that when a Ford Expedition is blocking you out of your own car at 9:07 in the morning, that's one big whale of a truck that gets bigger every second.

Did I key it? Did I let the air out of the behemoth tires? Did I leave the nastiest note on it, one that would make a hooker cry? No. Did I think about it? Oh yes. Oh yes, yes. But not initiating a landwar between me and the lumbering rockhead who navigates that land barge was probably the best and most rational thing I've done all day.

Even though I will most likely develop a burning stomach ulcer, I decided against any other action except to spread the tag number around of CUS 347 Shelby County, Tennessee. And any creative usage of destroying its integrity by anyone else would be greatly appreciated, however not directly solicited or in any legal way advisable.

The Good Ole Days would've thought up some creative retaliation, harmless but annoying, like a quick application of Crisco® oil and dimestore flour to the entire windshield of the Ford Expedition. But the Good Ole Days didn't have a car and didn't rent property in their own name with complete strangers who drive big, burly vehicles who also could be disgruntled FedEx workers. The Good Ole Days spent most of its time on privately-owned property, well underaged for a permanent offense to stick on its record. So no. I entertained the Good Ole Days but left them outside in the cold rain as I crawled through the passenger's side door and was happily surprised by my agility, flexibility and all around upper-body strength.

But next time, I will probably write all over that car with lipstick, boy. The most glittery lipstick I can find. Words inspired by the free-thinking, peptic ulcer. "Thank you for parking so close to me! (contour drawing of flower) Or did the gravitational forcefield of your truck drag my car into orbit around it? (big picture of happy face) Good luck reading this, Junior!" (heart illustration with lots of x's and o's).

If I don't do that, then I will definitely keep it in mind.

Last thing on the horoscope: What is that indiscernible last line about somebody reading poetry? Even though horoscopes are for entertainment purposes only, it just goes to show that smoking pot clearly does not make someone a better writer.