Ask Your Psychic Fiend Friday: The Eric Fish Version

September 9, 2005 at 10:26 am (Your Psychic Fiend)

Good Morning, Ladies and Germs! It’s time once again for Ask Your Psychic Fiend, the show that poses the question, “How many dumbassed ways is there to pretend to be a psychic?” Before we get started, it’s ass-waiver time:

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 slunts 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 be strangled with a telephone cord.

Great! Now that we have THAT out of the way, it’s time for the questions. This week’s answers will come from the interesting swirls left on my breakfast plate. Today’s breakfast was biscuits and sausage gravy, so there’s quite a mess. That stuff was sooo thick it just wouldn’t sop up well, and all those yummy bits of sausage…But enough about my breakfast, let’s just play a bit with a dirty plate and see what we can see, shall we?

Seamus has first dibs this week:

Wha’? No question this morning? Why don’t I have a question???

Hm…setting the dish down and letting the cat sniff it…then watching her walk away….Fine, ya snot! You don’t know good food when you see it—more for the puppies then!!

Answer: You don’t have a question because YPF has done such a fabulous job of answering every question you ever ever had! YPF rocks SO well that even when you couldn’t put a coherent question together, YPF had your answer.

No, huh?

How about this then—it’s been a quiet week?

The Brigadiere weighs in:

Dear Ms. Fiend, Esq.,

Why doesn’t anyone have any inquiries for you thus far?

Yours vaguely befuddled by lack of befuddlement,
Sir Brigadiere General Grend31, Mrs.

Answer: Because they don’t wuv me anymore.

Actually, I didn’t get the questions up until Thursday morning this week—with Monday being both a holiday and a personal playday, “Comment Me Now” just kinda snuck up and put a Kick-Me sign on my back.

NEXT! Gee, you’re all easy this week!

The Midwest Hick has a good one:

If I were to take ……say….a two week hiatus from blogging…would this recharge my batteries….or would I lose my edge?

Answer: Mike, the hiatus might help—but if you’re like me, you need some elements of a life in those two weeks. Go have dinner with your aunt—you know the one, she of the fabulous lasagna. Take the kids to something fun for them but annoying for you, like a Staind concert. Ask someone out. Whatever—the important part is to do while you’re off, so you have ammunition for blogging when you get back. Your regular readers will miss you, but if you reward them with new and fun posts when you get back, you’ll be forgiven.

Paige stopped by for a visit, and here’s her question:

Now that people are finally commenting on my site, do you think I can successfully do all the suggestions put forth to me?

Answer: Paige, the streaks on the plate say you’re going to do fine—you’re an excellent writer and while your commenters can be a little nuts, they’re giving you excellent fodder for blogging.

Ian’s back for more abuse at YPF’s hands:

People are not commenting much on my site… thing that s pissing my butt off
what should I do?

Answer: I’m thinking a video clip of you, one like those dating services make—“Hi, I’m Ian, I’m incredibly sexy, funny as hell, and I’m looking for a man (insert what you’re looking for here) who deserves me.”

No? How about an audio clip of you singing?

No? I KNOW you can sing, Ian!

Actually, the real answer is not to panic—things are settling down in New Orleans so a lot of the folks diverting online time into news searches will be coming back. My stats are down a little too, but I suspect the “Censor Me” button has a bit to do with that. Fucking Blogger Nazi assholes.

Next up is AliceBabylon. Alice, YPF’s sorry you didn’t get totally nailed by Typhoon Nadi like you should have. Sucks not getting time off when you have it coming.

Will I be arrested for buying Fredrico the Cabana Boy, on Ebay? Oh, hypothetically, of course.

Picking up the kitty, absentmindedly stroking her soft, long fur…suddenly struck by something…twitching like an epileptic watching anime…

Damn, that static cling is something else! But YPF’s got your answer!

Answer: While I was shaking and drooling, much like I did in Widdershins’ hut at RenFest, I saw something. I saw you searching eBay. I saw you finding that special something…sizing it up, thinking about a certain male butt…

In short, to avoid all the “slavery” flaming that would result from you actually purchasing a human being on eBay, simply purchase a Speedo in Kryptonite’s size and have a good time.

Brighton rounds out the questions this week with a great one:

How should I handle having a house full of Southern Baptists and a HUGE rented Margarita machine at the same time?? Its a party!

Answer: I’ll break it down into steps:

1. Set up margarita machine.
2. Score some righteous weed and make pot brownies
3. Mix Baptists, finished brownies and margaritas.
4. Add margaritas by the cupful as needed
5. Watch the fun ensue.

Be sure to tell great jokes, like, “Why don’t Baptists screw standing up? Because it might lead to dancing!”

And so YPF wraps up another session of blogging mayhem! Please leave applause at the link over there under my pussy—yes, the UPS-looking thing! Call me a whore—

You’re a whore! –Serra

Not YOU, bitch! THEM! Leave comments and praise and YPF’s work is done.

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