People just aren’t into horoscopes anymore. Heck, they don’t even know what gender they are. So when a co-worker found out my sun sign is Cancer (like her mother), she asked me whether I’m a Princess Diana type or a Gilda Radner kind of Cancerian.
Her mom must be one hell of a crab.
Like most crab-people, I find the typical traits don’t apply to me at all – I kill plants, not much of a mother, and have rather small breasts. But there is no doubt whatsoever of my – weirdness. To that I admit is a spot-on description.
God, help my children.