Your May Horoscope: Real Talk

Shanda Leer is your favourite tipsy aunt at a wedding. Besides making every pizza personal-sized, her three talents are hosting, toasting and ghosting.

Are you really gonna listen to Thought Catalog? About the one thing that’s messed up about your sign? Or are you gonna listen to Shanda Leer?


You’re the friend who always uses three to five ice cubes during a party and then never fills the tray back up. Who do you think you are? Were you raised in a barn?


Everyone likes you too much. Seriously. It needs to stop. Also, stop skimping on regular haircuts—you look like a sick dog.


You’ve got your eyes on the prize. You’re the friend who knows what needs to get done and just how to do it. And to think, you’ve never asked for anything in return except a handjob. What a pal.


Everyone has at least one bad habit they need to quit, but you’ve racked up twenty. They range from serious like, I dunno, smoking? Is smoking serious? Everyone cool does it. In any event, take stock and eliminate three before the year is over.


There’s lots of problems to fix in the world and you can’t do it all. Self care first, OK? Otherwise, you’re gonna let the rage keep building and end up punching someone in the face all in the name of morals or something, and who’s that gonna help? 


For the love of god, just water your plants. Yes, your apartment looks very cute on Instagram but seeing them wilt on a very slow time lapse is depressing. If you wanna keep that goodwill going, you gotta nurture it, duh.


Oh, pal—you’re a tough cookie, as they say. Not me though. I wouldn’t use such played out idioms. The thing about tough cookies is they’re easily softened with some milk. So if you wanna chill, find someone to drench you with a bottle of skim. Easy.


God bless you, Sag. Believe me when I say, if it weren’t for you, your friend group would spend most of their time puttering around to the same people over and over, eventually growing weary of each other’s company and descending into pure, unadulterated hell.


Some friends like cotton candy. Some friends like to put twizzlers in their wine. Some friends are just there to chat. You can do all of that and slam back four tequila shots without bristling. Never stop doing you.


Yesterday, I heard someone say, “Who shit in your Corn Flakes?” And I laughed because I hadn’t heard that before. So I wanted to pass it on to you. Because I didn’t get what it meant until I saw your face.


You’re consistently held back by your lack of pop culture references. Spend a weekend indoors with television that was made before 1990. I guarantee you’ll get at least 32% more jokes you hear in the run of a day (when you hang out with me, specifically).


Are things good? Kind of. How great are things? Some days, pretty great. Should they be better? I mean, I guess. But also maybe this has always been status quo and you’re finally accepting it. All I know is that a lot of people feel the same but you’re streets ahead of them, so dwelling ain’t gonna help nothing. But what I know couldn’t fill a warehouse.

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