Your Psychic Fiend Answers: Out to Eat Edition

June 30, 2005 at 10:59 pm (Your Psychic Fiend)

I'll be the first to admit I'm cranky today. Without going into details, I'm considering taking over the cooking chores in the house. That way I'll be able to eat at least one meal in two days, unlike the past two.

But, I'm already off the topic and I haven't even started yet. Your Psychic Fiend is all set to tackle the pressing issues that plague your mind.

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

1. It’s Psychic FIEND, not Psychic FRIEND. Your Psychic Fiend must be careful of copyright infringement issues just like everyone else.
2. All answers are for entertainment only.
3. The ONLY offense intended is to those sorry donkey-raping shiteaters 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, sorry-bitch charlatans like Miss Cleo and her ilk should be strangled with a telephone cord.

MooCow, self-professed code monkey and Lord of the Manor over at Crazying Up The Bottle, writes:

How pissed do you get when people keep calling you "Psychic Friend" or even worse "Psychotic Friend?"

I’m a little tired of tea leaves, so let’s use coffee grounds instead. I’ve also decided to see what can be seen when a filter full of them hits the wall. One moment while I meditate on what would possess someone to stir-fry vegetables for half an hour…annnnddddd…soft mushy whack similar to tonight’s supper hitting the plate…

Answer: I get nearly as pissed as you do when you tell folks not to touch you and their next seven comments include the phrase *touch*, but not nearly as angry as I get when I think back on the fact that I haven’t had a decent meal in two days.

Thanks Moo!

MoeThat’sMe from Moe’s Moments of Wisdom also has a query on something close to Your Psychic Fiend’s rant tolerance:

What is the name of the recruiter (I'm thinking of taking up jewelry making) and his boss… or the company for whom they scam?

You know, those coffee grounds really reveal a lot. I bet they’d reveal even more if I smear them all over the wall they’re stuck to. They’re still wet, so hold on a moment while I….

AHA! I knew it was in the grounds!

Answer: There’s a large block to that recruiter and his employer’s names being released—the ether shields him because he’s sold his soul to the Devil and it requires the services of a Santeria priest to remove the shield. Only once blood has been cast on the recruiter’s doorstep and all items in his office’s break room refrigerator anoint his desk will his name be told and his reign of terror halted.

Thanks, Moe! I'll be over to visit when time permits.

Brighton, the gorgeous lady over at A Day in the Night of a Stripper, asks something Your Psychic Fiend thinks we all wonder about:

Will I finally find myself surrounded with financial stability by August? Just askin….

The Magic 8 Ball wants to answer, but since it's generally full of shit I’d rather consult the Tarot. The Lovers (Two of Cups) figures prominently as does the Emperor, the Knight of Pentacles and The Wild Draw Four—uh, oops, looks like someone’s been playing UnoTarot again and I have to go kick their asses. I’ll be right back…

Answer: All Pentacles in the spread are the lower suit cards—the Two, the Four, the Ace. This tells me you’re at the beginning of this journey, too soon to tell if you’ll reach the goal as early as you’d like to. You do have help on your side in the Emperor, so look to the older, wiser man offering you and yours help—he means well and desires your well-being, nothing more.

Thanks, Brighton!

VegasGustan at The Song Repository and Home But Far From It has come to the well again:

I can't take a joke, so in what position do you forsee me getting fucked?

Oh, hey, those coffee grounds are moving! They’re spelling something…oh, that’s nifty! Tea leaves don’t do that stuff, they get one idea in their heads and just lay there afterward.

Answer: The Coffee Grounds of Divination show a shadow standing over you, baseball bat in hand, ready to land your head in the cheap seats. The cartoon balloon says, “Gee, if you can’t take a joke you’re already fucked, so here goes…”

Excellent question, VG! Thanks for stopping.

The Beef-Flavored Vegetarian Mo from Chez Moelle queries Your Psychic Fiend:

That stuff, is it gonna do the thing?

Hey, you're psychic. You should know what I'm talking about.

Answer: Your Psychic Fiend loves it when she doesn’t need to dust off the crystal ball for a question! Thanks Mo! Yes, it’s going to work–YPF helped, did she not? Your teacher should like it, and I was going to ask if you wanted to try it out on some ginormous incense sticks—I have plenty and can spare some. Email me if you’re up for it.

Thanks, and let me know how Schrodinger's Soap turns out.

Jackie at 86 Tips (it’s great to see ya, btw!) has a question:

Dear Psychic Fiend,

Will my boss fire my co-worker that I totally hate?

(Please please please say yes)

This time I *am* going to have to consult the Crystal Ball. Whipping off the silken cover, I buff the surface with a handy paper towel…ah, shit, is that fragrance oil? Cherry Sandalwood, mmmm…

Where was I? Oh! Ahh, I see them…the boss and The Hated One…in an office…alone…Suddenly the boss sweeps all the clutter from the destop…replaces it with…OH, EW! PUT THE SHIRT BACK ON, YA SKANKY SLUT! No—not the skirt…Fuckin’ A bitch, ICK! Shave the rainforest, for fuck’s sake! And quit shopping at Victoria’s Secret—you do NOT put the Dream in Dream Angel…OH EW MAN NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!

Your Psychic Fiend needs about an hour to shower in bleach, Sweet Orange EO and to scrub her eyes with a wire brush.

Answer: Now you know how The Hated One is keeping her job. Firing her will be difficult, but if you can get to her computer during lunch and email his wife or other woman ACCIDENTALLY while emailing the boss that “you’re preggers and it’s time to make good on the promise to marry me” I can assure you that her time at your company grows short as the shadows lengthen on her career.

Thanks and remember not to use the same potty she does for awhile–karma has many ways of coming around and you don't want to get caught in the crossfire before she hits the free clinic.

The multi-talented Se7en at It’s a Dog’s Life and Blogs Gone Wild Design (he’s responsible for the great design on this blog and many others—check him out) writes Your Psychic Fiend:

Dear Psychic Fiend,
Can you tell me when I will receive my next BJ? It's been way too long! Please tell me that it will be this weekend!! woohoo!

As I wipe up the Coffee Grounds of Divination (who knew I’d be the only one who thought the kitchen wall looked really cool with them neat designs on it) they speak once more…but they’re telling a joke?

Man: God, I’ve prayed and prayed for You to let me win the lottery and You never answer my prayer. Oh Why, God, Why?

God: I can only do so much, man. You have to meet Me at least halfway and BUY A DAMN TICKET!

Answer: If you’re likely to be around hot ladies this weekend, chances are very good that you’ll have no problem getting a little lipstick on your dipstick, but you have to help the situation—you need to GET OUT THERE with desirable candidates for dipstick lipsticking first! You should also turn on the charm a bit, and knowing you, Your Psychic Fiend is certain you have no trouble in that department either.

Thanks so much for writing.

Mona Buonanotte from Mona’s Barbaric Yawp came up with a very good question for YPF:

Dear Psychic Fiend:

Will my co-worker, Suicidal-Guy-in-Loveless-Marriage, kill himself or that bitch wife first? And if himself, do I need to worry that he'll do it at work? Should I invest in body armour, just in case?

Sincerely,

Mona Buonanotte

YPF has decided to consult the sands of the hourglass (actually it’s a bag of unflavored Pop Rocks I happen to have here—great for nifty kinky bathing and reputed to be nice in pursuits such as Se7en’s). Ahhh, yes…I see it now…Hey! Bam Margera! Go abuse yourself elsewhere—can’t you see YPF’s trying to work…hm, how big does that thing get anyhow? WOW! Bet you could tie a knot in…

Answer: The wife will go first, but neither of them will buy the farm at your office. This guy’s the type to go postal but he’ll do it at home like a well-trained pup, not in pubic like so many others have done. No need to cover your nifty ThinkGeek t-shirt with Kevlar. However, keep an eye on the situation—if he begins to hang out on the building’s roof, re-consult YPF.

Thanks!

ESC over at …but mostly rants has this to ask:

Will Kev and I get everything together and get off on our vacation OK?

I’m going to read the bubbles in a nice hot bath to answer this one, I think…back in a bit.

There! I’m back—did you miss YPF? You’d better say yes.

Answer: The bubbles had quite a lot to say—something about rushing water and someone being very nervous? Anyway, your poop is in a group, the catch is that you have to make it a slightly smaller group to get it out the door and down the road. Don’t overpack for the trip because you’ll need a little room for things to bring back. Remember to de-battery any toys and pack anything potentially embarrassing in its own brown wrapper. Oh, and have a ball!

Thanks for asking YPF a question–by the way, how'd the squab turn out?

AliceBabylon over at Fallen has an excellent question, one YPF encounters regularly:

Your psychic, what's my question?

Answer: Alice, you and everyone else have so many questions that it’d be rude to pick just one and assume that’s the one you want YPF to be snooping about. Ethics require that you tell me which one you need the answer to so that I don’t abuse my superpowers and use them only for good.

It's great to see you here Alice, thanks!

Sir Brigadiere General Grend31, Mrs. at Grend31’s Lair snuck a question in just under the wire—good thing I reloaded the comments and caught it, isn’t it? He writes:

Dearest Psychic Fiend,

I was planning on a bit of a hunting outing today as I'm a bit peckish for quail, but Smiggins cannot seem to find the old blunderbuss. There isn't any way perchance you could use this third eye of yours to spot it out for Smiggins? He'd be forever grateful I'm sure, as misplacing my old thundrous girl could put him in bad stead with me for a stint.

Yours in needing a bit of bird,
Sir Brigadiere General Grend31, Mrs.

Let me pull out the crystal ball again, Brigadiere. Oh, my. OH, MY! Smiggins, you’re a sneaky fucker, did you know that? That’s just not cool—you know the Master just wants to destroy the Precious, your ass is safe, I think…until the next time you forget to have the Master’s martini waiting when he gets home…

Answer: The sneaky little shit hid your shotgun in Jesster’s shoe closet—under the 16 pairs of black shoes and right next to…something I’d rather not know about. You really shouldn’t threaten to blow Smiggins’ ass all over the Mall of America, dearest Brigadiere—one must take care not to scare the shit out of the help, you know.

Tut tut and cheerio—see you at Blog Jeebus’ gala!

Well, that’s it—don’t forget to give back to YPF on your way out the door. She likes chocolates and comments.

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