Whiplash Smile

All right everyone–it’s time for another edition of Ask Your Psychic Fiend. Anyone with a question for YPF, please leave it in the comment section of this post.

The usual disclaimer is still in effect but I want to get to bed instead of preparing to feed YPF’s ego–it’s already the size of Roobend Studdardo’s ass. The short version: Don’t take anything said or done in connection with Ask Your Psychic Fiend seriously–it’ll just annoy us and piss you off. If you don’t want it made fun of, don’t ask about it. If you don’t want it seen, don’t ask about it here. If you have nothing better to do than act like a psychotic asshat, go bug someone else–pissing either me or YPF off is a bad idea and will lead to the most embarrassing blog post ever written about you.

I’ll stick this to the top of the blog, in case I get done early tomorrow with the project I’m busting ass on and find three words to rub together.

One more thing: I’m considering putting together a mailing list for YPF–It never fails that someone always misses it who intended to ask a question. Two issues here:

1. Where would be a good place to get a free announcement-only list started, one that I can put a subscribe/unsub utility easily on the blog?
2. Are any of you actually fucking interested in knowing when this post goes up and when the answers come out?

‘Ello! It’s once again time for YPF to romp and play, folks! It’s a short list this week, but that’s OK, because I can sit and bitch about that stupid wench Serra!

Yeah, she’s been a real pain in the ass this week—coughing, sneezing, putting her back out and being generally useless. She hasn’t taken us anywhere at all—just curls her fat ass up into a fetal ball and whimpers until it’s time for another dose of cold medicine…

Now you hold on right there, you rotten slunt! If you’d do more for the body than drink coffee and get cravings for things that aren’t in the house, the body would be a lot better off! I WAS going to take you for Taco Bell today, but now you can kiss my delicately-scented ass, bitch! No Double Beef Burrito Supreme for YOU! –Serra

Fine, biatch! I didn’t want any anyhow! I want espresso ice cream, the kind they make where they infuse the cream with whole espresso beans, like that yummy shit we had at Beo's that one time.

Whimper…whimper…Taco Bell. Denied.

Anyway, just to shut HER up, let’s make with the asswaiver:

As you begin your journey with Your Psychic Fiend, please keep in mind:

1. It’s Psychic FIEND, not Psychic FRIEND. Your Psychic Fiend must be mindful of copyright infringement issues just like everyone else, especially considering that Serra’s the copyright Nazi unless it suits her to be otherwise.
2. All answers are for entertainment only. If you don't want to be entertained by smartass answers, don't ask serious questions. Hell, don’t ask questions at all—anyone expecting serious answers on Ask Your Psychic Fiend Day will just piss themselves off.
3. The ONLY offense intended is to those inbred spawn of Larry The Cable Guy who pretend to have psychic gifts in order to make a buck and run up your phone bill. I have the utmost respect for those truly gifted with the sixth sense. I can completely respect folks who accept money for readings of Tarot and other divination arts, as honest, respectful and caring clairvoyants who serve a purpose in the Universe. However, lying-bitch whoremongers like Miss Cleo and her ilk should have been smashed against a rock at birth.

Now—First up is our old friend Paige:

Will I ever be accepted at work?

Answer: Da Grounds, which I’ve kindly left in the brewing cup because Serra’s the one who made coffee this morning and I can’t be bothered enough to throw them at the wall, say that it’s going to depend on what you’re willing to do for acceptance. You’ve got a lot more brains than most of the folk you work with, so it’s going to be a little harder than usual for you to get them comfortable with you. Look for some after-work bonding opportunities, like finding a place like this one, where drink and play can meet.

Hope this helps!

The next question is from another old friend, Seamus:

Will I ever accept work?????

Answer: The concept of work is mind over matter: If you have no mind, it does not matter. To that end, burning out your brain cells in whichever manner you find acceptable might make the pain less as the years wear on. Untimately, however, you’ll find you really miss your mind. The trick is to find work where you feel guilty for getting paid to do something you love so much. Most of us never find that; those who do are lucky beyond measure.

Next up is Anonymous Coworker:

At some point will I be allowed to stop talking about necrophilia?

Answer: Sheesh! Make ONE little argument in favor of forcibly raping corpses and you’re marked for life! Da Grounds do say that someday it’ll fade from the memories of those you know, and using mass hypnosis would go a long way to making that happen sooner. Add a mild hypnotic to pitchers of beer and whatever else is being drunk at the next happy hour and work your magic.

Our next question comes in from Se7en. Missed ya, dude, and it’s good to see you back!

Will I ever find true love again? I need ta know! Hehe

Answer: Who wouldn’t love lovable old you, Se7en! Da Grounds show a lot of women really really want to scritch your ears, brush your fur, and snuggle up close. The catch is that most of them are just too far away to really get close to. It’s time to start looking for fun things to do offline again. Difficult as that is in your area, it’d really do you some good to get out and socialize. Hugs from Serra and good luck.

Mike dropped by once again—here’s his question:

Why is it I can't think of an adequate question to ask you today?

Answer: Because you live a life of calm perfection, Oh Midwest Hick! You live in the perfect city, in the perfect state, with the perfect housemate, have the perfect job…

Serra! GET OUT OF HERE BEFORE I KNOCK YOU INTO NEXT WEEK! I swear to Dog it’s time mmlfjr mslkfjon mmlirsjoahllllll

It’s Serra, folks—Since I’m a little low on patience this week she hit the shitcan early on. Taking away the little bitch’s Taco Bell just didn’t teach her, did it? She’s residing in the ash can and I’ll take Mike’s question.

Cut to shot of coffee can, rocking, banging noises and muffled threats issuing from within

Now, Mike—It’s not just you. Comment Me Now was a little slow this week, likely because I put it up a little late. I’m sure it’ll roar back in force along with your curiosity next week.

That’s it for this edition, my assembled maniacs. Comments and bitching can be left in the comment section.

It’s that time again, folks–time for another round of Ask Your Psychic Fiend! I’m really surprised you all like it so much. The folks here think I’ve lost my mind when I type, giggle, type my way thru an edition, but tough shit.

Here’s the fine print:

Note that the “Ask Your Psychic Fiend” feature is for entertainment purposes only. “Ask Your Psychic Fiend” is water-soluble, non-non-toxic, and Haz Mat Category IV. If “Ask Your Psychic Fiend” catches fire, do not attempt to fight it–call 911, scream your death scream, put your head between your legs and kiss your ass goodbye. Do not ask questions which might expose any confidential issues, identities, relationships or other sensitive topics. If you’re easily offended, don’t post a question, because you’re likely to really fucking hate the answer. Do not taunt Your Psychic Fiend. Psychic Fiend is a trademark-pending product of Knightdreams, Inc. All rights and copyrights are reserved to D. J. Lovely. All answers are meant in good fun–in other words, if you can’t take a joke then don’t Ask Your Psychic Fiend anything because you won’t like the answers.

Oh, and fuck you if you can’t take a joke.

Answers will be posted Friday and this post will be stuck to the top of the blog until 6 am Friday. New posts will appear under it as my oxygen-starved brain begins to function again, so make sure you peek under this post for them.

Good morning everyone! Serra “forgot” to wake me yesterday for my fun in the sun, so I’m late and it’s all her fault fucking bitch so let’s get down to business, shall we? You’ve all been nicely busy thinking up thinks to think while I snoozed away.

First order of business—Le Waiver du Derriere:

As you begin your journey with Your Psychic Fiend, please keep in mind:

1. It’s Psychic FIEND, not Psychic FRIEND. Your Psychic Fiend must be mindful of copyright infringement issues just like everyone else, especially considering that Serra’s the copyright Nazi unless it suits her to be otherwise.
2. All answers are for entertainment only. If you don’t want to be entertained by smartass answers, don’t ask serious questions. Hell, don’t ask questions at all—anyone expecting serious answers on Ask Your Psychic Fiend Day will just piss themselves off.
3. The ONLY offense intended is to those inbred spawn of Larry The Cable Guy who pretend to have psychic gifts in order to make a buck and run up your phone bill. I have the utmost respect for those truly gifted with the sixth sense. I can completely respect folks who accept money for readings of Tarot and other divination arts, as honest, respectful and caring clairvoyants who serve a purpose in the Universe. However, lying-bitch whoremongers like Miss Cleo and her ilk should have been smashed against a rock at birth.

Now that we have that out of the way, YPF’s going to read your fortunes and divinations from Da Grounds of Augury (hereinafter referred to as “Da Grounds”) since once again the coffee sucks even figuring in our very sore throat and ear. I’d normally welcome a little bit lighter beverage on a morning such as this but Serra slept for shit last night and we needs us the caffeine buzz. Let me go make some decent coffee and get the grounds going for reading….

THWACKKKKKKK!

Ahh, all set, and with the nifty Bunn coffeemaker H’sMa has it’ll just be a minute before I can hook up the coffee IV.

Question #1 comes in from Anonymous Coworker:

When should I reveal my big secret?

Hm, let’s us study Da Grounds here a moment…

Answer: The real question is which secret are you thinking of here? Da Grounds show YPF that the answer could be one of several. Is it “I’ve gotten so fond of pooping my pants that I’ve added it to my bedtime ritual” or “ACWF was in the hospital for EXHAUSTION because I’m such a virile stud and gave her so many orgasms that she literally couldn’t move under her own power”?

Oh, never mind—here’s the real secret: “I secretly like it when my kitty uses my manpole as a bat-and-claw toy.” So the answer is that you should get your happy ass over to your blog immediately and reveal it now—with pictures—and telling the world that your are your cat’s bitch and you love it.

You are Sofa King dead when you’re done! –Serra

Oh, don’t EVEN start with me, Serra! You KNOW ACW’s cat makes me post that shit! I don’t know how the little bastard does it, I’ve never met that cat in real life but there’s just something…different…about him…not to mention that he’s soooo fuckin’ CUTE!

Shaking my head…Anyhoo, ever onward we go!

Question #2 is from AliceBabylon, who took the last Ask YPF Friday to heart and has begun making the world a smarter place. Thanks, Alice, for all you do.

Will anyone notice if I slip out of work for a quick Italian meal, (cause I gotta have some garlic bread now!)?

Studying Da Grounds normally gives a lot of information…strange how they’re just spelling out one thing here.

Answer: Da Grounds are tracing the word “Lasagna” in dancing, marinara-dripping, Parmesan-coated letters. If anyone notices you actually left for Italian food, just tell them ever since the little peepee stick turned blue, your intake requirements necessitate your leaving work to satisfy them. If they bitch further, explain that ignoring those cravings could result in serious bodily harm…for them. Standing between a pregnant person and that which she craves really isn’t a good idea. Smile pretty but keep staring into their eyes, then suddenly quit smiling—just let the smile evaporate and scare the shit out of them. You’ll get co-workers offering to deliver anything your little heart desires by the end of business.

Imagine it—Haagen Daaz on a silver platter, anytime you smile.

Question #3 was posted by Moose:

Is my car going to keep sucking my bank account dry?

Answer: As Da Grounds dance, they’re spelling things out again (odd, Da Grounds usually aren’t this clear). This time it’s just two words:

Buy American

Side note to the Ford Motor Company person who visits here: I don’t know who you are, but I know an incredible I-DEAS Designer. Your company really should hire him. Email me for details.

Ian’s back with Question #4

how old is Serra?

Answer: Dude, you KNOW what answer you’re getting. You’re getting the same answer you’ve gotten the last two weeks. Serra says to tell you that she’s not fucking telling you how old she is—she said not to even ask! I can’t tell you either, she won’t let me…gotta…fight…her….

41

Bitch. –Serra

Whateva—I can do what I want!

Question #5 comes in from Sergei. Sergei’s a fun guy to read, so go check him out:

Dear Psychic Fiend: are the pounding headaches I’ve been experiencing a function of my diet or something from the spirit realm? I thought clean living was supposed to feel better than this.

Da Grounds have the answer in more ways than one, Oh Mighty Sergei.

Answer: If you’ve included a cutback on caffeine intake in your new, clean living lifestyle, that’s what’s causing your sudden massive headaches. Suddenly changing your caffeine intake will provoke headaches, so you have some choices to make. You can either step up the caffeine again or you can try various things to get relief until the caffeine’s out of your system, which isn’t a hell of a lot cleaner than just drinking more coffee. Serra says to try putting a little bit each of peppermint and lavender essential oils on a Kleenex or hanky and inhaling the fumes—helps a lot with headaches.

Question #6 hit the comments via Mrs. Mogul. Mrs. M, welcome to Whiplash Smile. YPF hopes like hell you read the disclaimers.

Will I go back to a career, and what will it be?

Da Grounds are dancing again (or YPF’s having fever-induced hallucinations and they’re just dripping down the wall YPF threw them at), showing a map, with paths, twisting, turning, a couple straight ones, but lots of branches, cul-de-sacs, with a sprinkling of garage sales here and there.

Answer: There’s a lot of personal variables in this one, Mrs. Mogul, so it’s hard to say. Come back and ask me when your maternity leave is done. Personally I was ready to quit watching soap operas by then, but that’s just me.

Question #7 pops up here courtesy of Laurie:

will johnny doe come back to me?

Answer: This one’s a little iffy too—depends on whether you kissed that gorgeous butt before painting a Jack O’Lantern face on it.

Next up with #8 is Tristan, a new visitor. Tristan, thanks for the link on your blog post—much appreciated.

Will I get gay bashed by relatives during my grandparents 60th anniversary family trip ?

Answer: You know as well as YPF does that there’s always one asshole that ruins it for everyone. S/he will make certain to bring the subject up, but Da Grounds say that there’s a 75% chance other family members will attempt to gag and physically restrain Asshole because it’s a special occasion that shouldn’t be sullied with telling you about your new vacation home. They’ll remind s/him that there’ll be plenty of time to bind, gag and deliver you once your grandparents retire for the night.

Love Potion #9 came in from Haywood (wonder if the last name is Jablome? I bet that’d explain the question quite a bit):

Will I be sucessuful in my accidental attempt to break the world record for most amount of money spent on women without actually getting laid?

Answer: Oh, hell, yeah. You’re fairly close now. A more efficient use of your resources would be to find an accommodating lady, offer to “spend some money on her if she’ll spend some time on you.” (Bonus points for anyone who can tell a bitch what movie that line is from). It’s not hard to find such women—just drive down the right street. Sure, they’re not the ones to take home to Mom, but we’re not talking about marrying them—just put the money on the dresser, tap that ass, and get more bang for your buck.

Question #10 is from Sergei’s better half, Mona:

I’m too late. FUCK!! I need an APF alarm clock! Okay, well, Psychic Fiend, at some point can you cheer with me that professional hockey is once again ON! My question…will the Red Wings win the Stanley Cup any time this decade?

Answer: You’re not too late—since YPF was late this week we can squeeze you in.

YAY for pro hockey being back on! It’s been really hard on the area not having the team up and running. Serra’s from a state without a hockey team so it’s been a new experience for her to watch the panic. Then again, it’s like the year that the NFL went on strike (just as her high school’s band was supposed to perform at a Packer halftime show—shitshitshitshit is what every band parent said, since the perfect reason to chaperone a band trip had been ripped out from under them).

Red Wings and the Stanley Cup? Probably not this decade. They should have never let Sergei Federov go to the Ducks (seriously, what the FUCK does he want with Anaheim anyhow?) Yzerman’s making retirement noises, which won’t help matters, and Chelios is overdue for a major injury—he’s been wonderfully healthy and YPF hopes that continues, but he’s just plain overdue. That said, let’s hope YPF is wrong—this is a place where a bitch would love to be wrong.

Question #11 was posted by the brave Paige:

I don’t know if this is way to late or not, but I wanted to ask the Psychic Fiend if her refridgerator’s running. And if it smells like cheese.

Answer: Yeah it’s running. I refuse to shag ass out there to catch it because it’d be really embarassing to collapse out in the yard. The ex Roommate From Hell lives in the neighborhood now and he’d just tell everyone I’ve overdosed on heroin and to just leave my druggie ass lay there. And no, it doesn’t smell like cheese–it smells like old ladies and onions. Guess it’s time to change the baking soda box again.

Question #12 comes to us from Seamus.

Serious question part deux: have I just lost my fucking mind and if so will it be found in my lifetime???

Answer: Apparently so, dude. Serra got a look-see at your blog and hopes whatever reason you have for the barrenness disappears soon. Da Grounds say that your mind will be found in your lifetime, but the years it spent in a box with a decaying nuclear isotope may or may not have affected it for the rest of its unnatural life.

Question #13 is brought to us with thanks to Mike:

I’ve always wondered if Charlie Brown is ever gonna get a piece of the lil red-headed girl…..your thoughts?

Hm, it’s Monday now and Da Grounds aren’t behaving well. They’re actually still on the wall because H’sMa hasn’t found them yet. Sooooo, let’s toss this new pot of shit coffay at them and see what happens…

Answer: Charlie Brown will never do two things in his lifetime—he will never get to kick the football and he will never tap dat azz. It’s the Tao of Peanuts, Mike. The Universe will not be balanced unless those two things remain constant, and if Snoopy ever writes anything more than “It was a dark and stormy knight” on his novel, the Universe will explode into a million jillion pieces and be replaced by a Las Vegas ultralounge that some guy started in his apartment across from The Bellagio.

Next up is Mr. K with Question #14:

Will hoodies always be in style? Or will I ride them out past their death like I did with flannel shirts in the 90’s?

Answer: Serra’s commented before on the bygone days of being able to tell teachers from students by their attire, so there’s not much more YPF can say. Da Reconstituted Grounds tell YPF that you’ll wear out the hoodie fad even worse than you wore out the flannel shirt fad. But Serra’s got little to say since her fiancé hasn’t made it to the hoodie fad, being terminally stuck in Flannel Shirtland. But that’s all right because it gives Serra the means to swipe a nicely worn flannel shirt out from under Honey’s nose.

Bite it, YPF—flannel shirts are warm and snuggly once you get someone else to break them in for you! –Serra

Ignoring Serra because it’s all her fault we’re sick…MooCow will of course disagree about hoodies ever meeting their doom, but personally I think they’ll simply be replaced by ponchos. In a fit of retro, the fashion industry will push them once again, with a slightly revamped version to serve as Man-Ponchos. WDIV’s fashion guru Jon Jordan will appear in one made of a Burberry print, thereby establishing them as cool and hip until a man attempts to leave a store wearing one and is beaten within an inch of his life.

Boo came to visit and left Question #15:

Since you haven’t answered yet I’ll throw in a question. I’m buying a car in a few weeks. Dodge Stratus or Chevy Malibu?

(please say Stratus)

Answer: Boo, just Buy American as you intend to and this bitch will be happy. Serra wants anything American that’s driveable at the point but hasn’t got the bucks to go shopping yet, so YPF doesn’t have a lot of info on tap for you. We lean toward GM products here with the exception of Mustangs, so YPF has to say Malibu. But you just stick to stuff made here and you’ll do fine. One more note: Have you checked into the new GTO?

Question #16 is VegasGustan’s fault.

Dear Psychic Fiend,

Does taking four Lortabs in a six hour period make me a druggie?

Hope you feel better.

Answer: No, but not giving YPF any makes you a bogart. YPF hopes you feel better too, since there must be a good reason you’re hogging out on Lortab. Serious note: Lortab contains acetaminophen, so stick closer to the recommended dose to avoid overloading your liver. You can take ibuprofen with it if you need more pain control.

And that wraps up this edition of Ask Your Psychic Fiend. Feel free to bitch in the comments section. Serra will bitch right back as always.

Comment Me Now!

It’s that time again, folks–time for another round of Ask Your Psychic Fiend! For those new to the phenomenon, Ask Your Psychic Fiend is a Friday feature where the insane little pseudo-psychic inside of me takes your questions, plays with something to find the answers, then posts them for your shits and grins. Anyone may ask, the only charge is an occasional comment.

Here’s the fine print:

Note that the “Ask Your Psychic Fiend” feature is for entertainment purposes only. Use “Ask Your Psychic Fiend” for skin use only in diluted form, as it can cause irritation and sensitivities if used uncut. Do not ask questions which might expose any confidential issues, identities, relationships or other sensitive topics. If there’s a remote possibility you’ll read YPF’s response and think, “That’s not funny motherfucker!” then don’t ask that fucking question. Do not taunt Your Psychic Fiend. Psychic Fiend is a trademark-pending product of Knightdreams, Inc. All rights and copyrights are reserved to D. J. Lovely. All answers are meant in good fun–in other words, if you can’t take a joke then don’t Ask Your Psychic Fiend anything because you won’t like the answers.

Oh, and fuck you if you can’t take a joke.

Answers will be posted Friday and this post will be stuck to the top of the blog until 6 am Friday. New posts will appear under it (assuming I get over blogger’s block and fucking write them), so make sure you peek under this post for them.

UPDATE: It’s Saturday morning and I’m working on the answers–the catch is that I feel like someone shoved rebar down my throat all night long, pulling it out thru my ear every fifth stroke. I have some of the answers done, but hope to finish this before the end of the day.