It’s Gemini Season, Poopsiki! And I Gotta Talk to These Horoscope People

Today is May 21, the first day of Gemini season, and I figured what better time to finally write down what I think about all this Gemini talk? Not because the stars told me to, but because I'm living it.

I’ll never forget it. First date, thirty minutes in. We’re in the car, barely halfway to dinner, and this girl turns to me and goes:

“When’s your exact birth time? And city? Actually, can you call your mom real quick?”

Like a fool with manners, I did. I called my mother. Now unlike some people I wasn’t on speaker. I’m not one of those animals who drags their parents into a conversation on full blast without warning. But even so, my mom somehow knew what this was about. Knew it was for a girl. And before I could even say anything, she hit me with:

“Tebe eta nenado.” You don’t need this.

That was her verdict. No further explanation. Not “be careful” or “have fun.” Just a cosmic red flag in Russian.

Turns out, this girl had an astrology app that told her how compatible we were. It spit out a number based on my longitude, my birth time, and whatever else it needed. This wasn’t flirting, this was a background check.

There’s something interesting about the way some people treat horoscopes. It’s no longer light fun. For many, it’s religion with emojis. It’s become a shorthand for decision-making.

Swipe left because he’s a Scorpio. Ghost her because she’s a Taurus rising. Block your landlord because they texted you during Mercury retrograde.

And yet, despite all the signs in the sky, one sign always ends up catching shade. Gemini.

We are not the fan favorite.

There’s this weird consensus online that Geminis are toxic. We’re untrustworthy. We’re the villain in the zodiac cinematic universe. Every dating meme, every horoscope TikTok, every blurry moon collage someone reposted at 3am says the same thing.

Watch out for Geminis.

And I’ll be honest, until recently, I had no idea what people even meant by that. I had to Google it. I had to read a bunch of those articles that say things like:

“Geminis love variety, hate routine, and have the attention span of a TikTok raccoon.”

Half of them sound like someone describing a caffeinated toddler. The other half sound like a backhanded compliment written by an ex.

According to the internet, Geminis are playful, intelligent, adaptable, flirtatious, and oh, wait for it, two-faced.

What a combo. We’re basically described like a suspicious magician. The kind who can charm your grandma and steal your WiFi.

Playful? Sure. We like jokes. We like teasing. We like finding humor in the middle of chaos. But don’t mistake that for shallowness. We joke because it keeps us sane. It helps us listen. It lets us breathe.

Intellectually curious? Guilty. We want to know how everything works. Why people do what they do. We can talk to your mechanic, your rabbi, your ex, and your yoga teacher all in the same day and ask good questions. Not because we’re nosy, but because we genuinely want to connect.

And two-faced? Please. That one always gets me. Just because we know how to adapt doesn’t mean we’re scheming. Being a Gemini means you have range. Sorry we don’t show up every day like a beige calendar emoji. We give you options. We keep things interesting.

If we had a hidden agenda, you’d know. We’d write it in a group chat with our own organs.

People who are deep into astrology often forget that their language can wound too. When you meet someone and immediately write them off based on their sign, it’s not self-awareness, it’s a shortcut. A way to control uncertainty.

But the irony is that Geminis thrive in uncertainty. We live for the question mark. We love the weird middle of things. The tension. The contradiction.

We don’t want to reduce people. We want to expand them.

And yet, every time I say I’m a Gemini, there’s a shift. A squint. A sudden diagnosis. Like I just revealed a criminal record.

"Ohhhh, that explains it."

Explains what? That I showed up to this date with clean shoes and a full plan for the night? That I made you laugh twice before we hit the BQE?

That I actually care about words and show up with my whole personality, not just a curated trauma playlist?

Maybe people dislike Geminis because we mirror. We reflect what’s around us. If we seem chaotic, maybe your world is. If we vanish, maybe we were overwhelmed by the masks you wore.

Gemini isn’t about being deceptive. It’s about surviving in a space that often demands too much sameness.

And sameness, to us, is a slow death.

We want depth but fear stagnation. We crave love but demand freedom. We speak a hundred words a minute, but if you listen closely, every single one wants to mean something.

We disappear not because we don’t care, but because we care too much and need a second to recalibrate.

Sometimes we ghost you because we’re busy ghostwriting five screenplays in our head.

Since creating Baba Fira, my foul-mouthed, fur-coat-wearing, Soviet throwback grandma, I’ve had the joy of roasting families at weddings, birthdays, divorces, even brises.

What started as comedy has turned into community.

I’ve been invited into homes I wasn’t sure I’d ever see again, and yet most of the time, I do. They become friends. Regulars. Part of this ever-growing, ever-laughing extended family I never knew I needed.

It’s a deep honor to be trusted with someone’s loved ones, with their inside jokes and real-life messes. I don’t take it lightly. I might poke fun, but it always comes from love.

That’s Gemini energy too. Showing up with a thousand emotions in one pocket, performing with truth and tenderness in the other.

And every single time someone told me the guest of honor was a Gemini, they got a discount. I don’t know why. Maybe I just wanted to throw them a bone. Maybe I felt seen. Maybe we both needed the validation.

Today is May 21, the start of Gemini Season.

If your birthday, or your best friend’s, cousin’s, rabbi’s, or sneaky situationship’s, falls under the glorious Gemini banner, you get 50% off a custom Baba Fira video.

That’s right. Half off the insult. Half off the wisdom. All heart.

📩 Email bookbabafira@gmail.com and mention “Gemini Season” in the subject line. We will plan a regular call or video Zoom to get info about that Gemini and I’ll send back a beautiful personalized birthday wish and laughs from Firachka. You can go thru the Cameo app directly if you dont have time for a 15 min a call and make the video a little more personalized.

No birth chart needed. No apps. No calls to your mother. Just some chaos, charm, and comedy straight from Brighton Beach.

And to the ones who still think being a Gemini is a red flag. Maybe it is. But at least it’s a funny one. And if that’s not enough to win you over, just remember what my mother said when she heard me on that first date:

“Tebe eta nenada.” You don’t need this.

But maybe… just maybe… you do need a Baba Fira cameo for a Gemini you know.