Ask Your Psychic Fiend: “The Godpappy” version

November 25, 2005 at 9:06 am (Your Psychic Fiend)

Greetings and Salivations, fans! It’s time once again for Ask Your Psychic Fiend.

Serra found an interesting marathon on TV yesterday, while she was knitting that balaclava her Honey is nagging her about. It seems that Greg the Bunny has escaped the obscurity of sitcom canceldom and there are bunny-spankin’ new eps over on IFC. She’s happy as a pig in shit—the snark level isn’t quite as good as Mind of Mencia, but they say “fuck” a lot more and don’t bleep it out.

Personally, I just don’t get the point behind knitting, especially this burglar’s mask Serra’s making. It’s all just round, and round, and round, and round and…you get the point. It strikes me as a small, boring activity for small boring minds…

Now, you hold on, you little ham-packed dumbass! Knitting’s a time-honored way to supply loved ones with lovingly crafted, warm, functional garments and coverings! Our grandmother taught us to knit, and she made some of the…

Yeah, lardass, she made some of the FUGLIEST….

Ignoring YPF…warmest mittens and sweaters and affy-ghans….

…stuff known to mankind! There’s a reason our family calls gaudy clothes and shit products of “Grandma’s School of Design” so don’t get all teary—

Plus she loved us all enough to sew…

Yes, Serra, she sewed—this is the woman who made you wear a RAYON, Blaze Orange PAISLEY fucking PONCHO to your great-grandmother’s funeral! Didya forget about that little slice of love?

Look—Grandma was a wonderful woman who did the best she knew how for her family. She loved us very much, and the next time you open your pie hole to say anything different you’re going into a Chock Full O’Nuts can full of Newport butts, got it?

Sighs…Fine. I’ll behave ‘til the questions are answered. Then you can kiss our Opium Clone-scented ass.

All right—on with the answers, beginning with the obligatory asswaiver:

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

1. It’s Psychic FIEND, not Psychic FRIEND. With friends like YPF, who needs enemas?
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 penisbiters like Miss Cleo and her ilk should have been smashed against a rock at birth.

Let’s take our first question. This one’s from Seamus. Ladies, this guy’s a hot one—he’s got the biggest, prettiest, best…

…Bernese Mountain Dog I’ve ever seen!

What?

Oh, for shit’s sake—what’d you think I was going to say? Perverts.

What? First on YPF???? Woo Hoo!
!st – tell the Serra wench Happy Thanksgiving and save some for yourself as well!
2nd – I have a dryad in my tree, now what? (qualifier: I do like dryads, I do, I do, I do)
3rd – the Buffledog is smiling as we speak!

Let’s contemplate Da Grounds to find the answers for this guy.

Answers:

1st: Happy Turkey Killin’ day to you too—H’sMa bought a pre-made din-din at the grocery store so Serra ate FAR too much and her tummy still hurts this morning. But she knows there’s a pie in there she hasn’t had a piece of yet so she’ll be changing that shortly.

2nd: Ooooooooh, cool! Just feed her—clear spring water, lots of it, and sometimes a little bit of sugar in it. Be certain to play nice music for her too—Serra’s thinking Head East, but Serra’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer either.

Hey!! One more crack like that and it’s the Folger’s can for your ass!

What-eva–I can do what I want. Anyhow, be kind to her, and if the cat climbs up in the tree, talk it out gently—what a cat can do to a tree should be a sin.

Thanks for stopping and scritch that smilin’ pup for me, ok?

Next up is Ian. Serra got your email and wrote back. YAY for you!

Dear ypf

why we don’t have turkey day in Argentina?

Answer: Because your country’s founders didn’t pillage the land, kill the original inhabitants with syphilis and rap music, and didn’t steal the land they now claim?

Well, at least not until the 1880’s.

No, I don’t know squat about the history of Argentina. Please take this in the spirit it was meant–just to be an asshat. You know me; it’s what keeps you coming back.

Next up we have a question from Clora Clairvoyant. I’m surprised she doesn’t run a similar feature to my time here—she’s probably much better at it. We’re flattered to have her and here’s her question:

Are old people incapable of seeing what is right for them? Do they want to waste the rest of their lives?

Answers:

1. Yes. Utterly and completely incapable.
2. Certainly. They also want to waste as much of yours as possible too. They’re not being nasty; they just want to make sure you pass the tradition on when you’re old, gray, demented and pissing yourself.

Our next query comes from Lisa B. Lisa, we’ll get you on the blogroll in the next update—love your blog and we’ll keep visiting. Over there in the sidebar is a notice list for the Ask YPF feature—feel free to sign up. It’s announcements only, Serra’s the only one who can post to it, and there’s no way for a spammer to pick you up from there.

Will I meet the man of my dreams this year? If so WHEN

Answer: Da Grounds are confused, Lisa B. They’re not sure which dream dude you’re referring to. If it’s Heath Ledger, it won’t be this year—that restraining order, you know. HINT: Don’t email celebs asking for pictures of them in assless chaps—not even if you offer to supply the chaps. Especially not if you offer to spank that fine ass in return for photographs.

As far as the man you’re truly destined to be with, the future is vague. Don’t try too hard to force that meeting (see above). Instead, do some of those things off your “Before I die I wanna…” list.

Just don’t do that one where you spank Heath Ledger while he’s wearing assless chaps (see above).

NEXT!

Oh, hiya Se7en—when you’ve decided to do YPF Personals, have your people call my people. We’ll do lunch.

Hey Lisa, that sounds very similar to my question last week! hehe

My question: Is it true that there is a pot of gold at the end of every rainbow?

Answer: Da Grounds shows that most rainbows end in a pot of gold, with a few exceptions. Rainbows in Acapulco end at gold pot, rainbows in Ireland end at a leprechaun’s pot (but that’s not gold in there, so don’t be stickin’ yer hand in it), and rainbows in Wisconsin end at Lambeau Field. Rainbows in Michigan, though, end at Serra’s ass, and you KNOW there’s no fucking gold comin’ out of THERE…

SLAM!

THUDthudthudthud…mumblemumblemumblefuckmumble…

That’s it for this week, folks—fortunately the little bitch held her tongue until she’d answered that last one.

Stay tuned for next week’s edition of Ask Your Psychic Fiend, where YPF answers the question, “What essential oil is good for removing stale cigarette smells from your hair, clothes, ass and skin?”

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