Ask YPF: The Butthole Bear Version

December 2, 2005 at 11:11 am (Your Psychic Fiend)

Goooooooood Morning Blogland!!!

It doesn’t quite have the same ring to it but “Gooooooood morning Vietnam!” was already taken. It’s a snowy Friday morning, two of the three banes of our existence are out the door and down the road and the third splits in less than an hour. With our luck, that’s right about the time the LOL will get back from the doctor, which means we’ll have had ZERO fucking time alone once again. Shit. The incredible peace that comes with no one around to nag and bitch eludes us once again.

Oh well. I have you, and Serra, and Serra made coffee this morning, which means the coffee’s pretty damned good and there’s loads of grounds to…

~THWACK~

…throw at the wall, just on general principles, and of course to facilitate reading of The Incredible Edible Grounds of Augury. Ah, Da Grounds are in fine form this morning, so let’s get to the questions. It’s great to see so many questions today—thanks loads for giving me so much to do! The more I have to do, the longer I can spend figuring out how to get this incredible FUNK out of my mental hair! GAH! I hates the ashcan, HATES it!

Let’s toss out the asswaiver and get to work, shall we?

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.

Question Number One comes to us from SJ:

Dear PF, how long before I make the Beer Cheese Soup? It sounds way too good not to make.

Answer: It is too good not to make, SJ. You just can’t turn down the rich goodness of liquefied cheese mixed with bacon, other meats, and potatoes…

And BEER! Don’t forget the BEER! –Serra

Yep, and beer. Anyhoo, Da Grounds say it’ll only take you until you remember to pick up the Velveeta and chicken stock from Da Store. You’ll be putting it together on a weekend, likely this weekend, so you can bask in the glow from your own rising cholesterol in no time.

Question Number Two came in from Mr. K, who seems to be seriously agitated. Can’t say that I blame him—you be the judge:

Why do people using the copy machine always say “It’s all yours” to me when they’re done? And why do I then want to beat them with my Swingline?

Oh God, it happened again today–but this time at the Scantron test correcting machine. This Spanish teacher in front of me said “It’s all yours,” and I almost bit off his face. Help!

Answer: Yeah, Mr. K, what is UP with that? It’s not their fucking copier, now is it? No—it belongs to whatever facility it’s living in. So, if it’s not even their copier, where do they get off telling YOU that it’s now YOURS? It’s not theirs to give, you wouldn’t have a place to put it or a way to move it there even if this generous asshat WAS in a position to give you the fucking copier, now isn’t that all true? With that all being most true, where in blue Hell does that person get off saying, “It’s all yours,” when you and I know that is one of the biggest lies we’ve heard all day?

Now that you’re hemorrhaging from the eyeballs at those awfully constructed sentences, here’s what you do. You tell them, “Nah, it’s not all mine, but if it were I’d be printing flyers to advertise my new brand of methamphetamine and I could quit this living Hell of a job. Yes, QUIT, I say, and sell meth to anyone who comes to my new all-steel, bulletproof door, which of course has a small sliding door at the top for collecting the money and passing out the marching powder, and in between I could play Guitar Hero until my fingers bleed. My bitches might do the actual collecting and passing, though, so as not to interrupt my riffs, yo.”

That ought to shut them up. Completely. They won’t say “It’s all yours” again. They won’t say anything at all to you directly. However, it would pose the new problem of all those unsavory rumors flying behind your back.

I would not be the slightest bit surprised if I got this answer back, edits marked in red, so if you must, you must.

Up in the Number Three spot we have Clora Clairvoyant.

Do I need a different name for my blog? ’cause I’m snarky in real life, but not so much on my blog…..what should I do?

Answer: Da Grounds agree with LisaB—House of Snark is a nifty name and if I were you I’d keep it. You do snark occasionally, so those folks unaware of you who find you for the first time might be surprised at snark if your blog were entitled, say, “Clora’s Fluffy Bunny Thoughts” or “Deep Thoughts by Clora Clairvoyant.” They could get so pissed off at finding snark within that they’d sue. You wouldn’t want that, would you? Of course not, and YPF wouldn’t want that for you either. So leave the name as is—besides, it’s got a beat and you can dance to it.

Our next question comes in from Lisa B.

Can I answer Clora’s question? I LOVE the name of your blog!!!

Sorry Serra

Here’s my question… am I going to make lots of money in the next year? OK, so I’m shallow, deal hehe.

No need to apologize to me, Lisa. It’s that hobag YPF who’s likely to cut you for something like that. –Serra

Sighs…Serra, suck it. I’m not in the mood to argue with you—I’m still coughing up Newport butts from the last time.

Fine. Just don’t cut Lisa B. She’s good folk.

OK, ok, I won’t cut her. Besides, she made sense so I’ll permit it.

Answer: You’ll make some money in the next year, but not in the way you might think. Substituting Kevin Federline for Heath’s awesome ass in those chaps ‘n’ spanks videos you’re going to shoot just won’t cut it. Hell, Britney doesn’t even want a copy of that one. She’s going to tell you that her Baby Daddy will have to raise his child support another way because you really should have insisted he take off the flipflops and white socks before you rolled tape.

NEXT!

Ah, a question from Laurie! Watch your ass on the roads today—the Eagle shit today and those roads are full of little old people driving in the snow. Yay—I have to go out later too.

I’m with LB – am I going to get a better job soon before I’m outta money?

Answer: That answer’s less certain, according to Da Grounds. While you’re due for a good raise (which you will get), it won’t be nearly as large as it should be because some shithead in Administration “feels the need” for a post-raise survey to gauge employee satisfaction with the raises handed out this year. Don’t get an Uzi and make Admin “say Hallo to your little friend” because when you do that and everyone needs treatment for the GSW’s, your department will have to work overtime for no pay at all to treat the bastards.

Our next query floats over from Anonymous Coworker:

Speaking of eggnog, I’ve always wanted to consume a gallon of the same. Would you recommend this?

Answer: Da Grounds show that this is a much more brilliant move than consuming a gallon of milk would be, due to the fun factor of adding the booze to it before slogging. Da Grounds say you should make a real event of it at the Holiday Party at work. Make up a flyer on company time and company equipment and post them all over work. Be sure to post some outside the building too—you wouldn’t want anyone to miss the spectacle that will ensue, would you? The more people you have witnessing the event and its sequelae, the better the news footage will look.

Next, we have The Buffledog, the prettiest quadruped in the blogosphere. Welcome, Bufflepuppy…scritch scritch…awww, lookit da FACE! Such a wunnerful FACE!

I’m asking this for the biped – does he know how friggin lucky he is?
Now where my cookie? How about twenty cookies?
Woof!

Answers: Aw, lookit da FACE!

Uh, where was I? You know what a sucker we are for a furry face around here…

Ah, yes. Answers.

Answer 1: Yes, he knows. He knows how friggin’ lucky he is every time you stick your cold, wet nose into his armpit. He knows every time you drag your hairy butt across the living room floor…every time he vacuums the bed after you’ve been on it. He loves your fuzzy ass unconditionally, just as you love his.

Answer 2: Cookie? Go see The Big Guy—just go over and cold-nose his bare ass and he’ll give you something. He loves it when you do that. Then go groom that little bitty dog, the funny-smelling one…yeah, the one The Big Guy calls “Cat.” Cat will love it and thank you for your thoughtfulness.

Time to tackle this question from Vince. Hiya Vince and welcome to Whiplash Smile. If you have any concerns about the answer you get here, refer to the asswaivers in the comment post and above in this post.

How do I get a Brian May guitar without having my wife kill me for spending that much money?

Also, when will the Wife be able to quit her job?

YPF is all about the two-parters, Vince, so thanks and read on.

Answer 1: You get one when you can spend enough to also get her that tennis bracelet full of big white shiny rocks. You show her the guitar first, then watch for the bulging vein at her temple (you know the one, you’ve been married awhile). When you see that, you whip that little box out from behind your back and put it at eye level. Softly croon, “look, Honey, I got you something too.”

Trust a bitch, Vince, this maneuver will save your life and get you your guitar at the same time.

Answer 2: If you’re ever able to do #1, chances are good you’re at or near the time she can quit her job. Call the tennis bracelet a celebration, and call your guitar “excellent shit” because I’m sure it is.

Our next question (oh shut up—I’ve lost count) is from Inanna:

What do you see in my crappy job future? And why does eggnog suddenly make me extremely sick?

Answer: Da Grounds foresee that you’re feeling the need for a change…feeling the need for more challenge and adventure in your career. You’re seeking at this point in your life. See how fuckin’ smart Da Grounds are?

Da Grounds see you on teh Intrawebs…they’re watching you on one of them BigAssed job-application websites. Yeah, it’s called MyBigAssedJobApplier.com Trouble is, you’re doing this at work, so Da Grounds see your IT department reporting this to your boss, who notifies your supervisor, who’s soon standing over your shoulder, watching you.

Da Grounds suggest confining your job searches to non-company equipment or you’ll be needing MBAJA.com sooner than you’re prepared to mess with it.

As for the eggnog, maybe you should get a home preggers test, just in case.

Next up is Ian. By the way Ian, we hate you—your Southern Hemisphere living ass doesn’t have to deal with this snow bullshit like YPF does.

dear YPF:

why Anonymouscoworker is so hot to me?
c´mon! this guy is “anonymous”!

Answer: Men love mystery, Ian. For you, he’s foreign, mysterious, smart, funny and mysterious. Your mind can imagine him being gorgeous and doing funny, smart and snarky things, so that makes him sexy to you.

To us American straight women, he’s just another good catch who’s been taken off the market, as all the good men in the US are.

Joke:

Q: Why is it so hard to find a good, sensitive, smart, funny man?

A: Because they already have boyfriends.

Before anyone whines about the bad gay joke and how it denigrates gays, keep in mind that a gay man TOLD Serra that fucking joke while she was tending bar. If gays don’t want straights telling all the good gay jokes, they shouldn’t tell them in the hearing range of straights who are certain to repeat them because they can’t tell their own jokes to save their souls.

Next up we have Moe! Hiya Moe—did you like your nekk1d men note? Oh, quitcher bitchin’ woman–it worked, didn’t it?

It’s snowing in Seattle. Will it stick? Should I even bother trying to come to work tomorrow?

Danke FIEND!

Answer: Bitte, baby.

Hell, NO you shouldn’t go to work! Telecommute today—if Serra didn’t have to run errands she’d pop some popcorn and curl up with her knitting. It’s snowing just enough to be a pain in the ass here and it’s Friday and it’s Senior Citizen Day on the roads to boot. Bleh. Have a good day at home and enjoy it.

Our next question comes from Se7en. That reminds a bitch, Serra’s got to email him…anyhoo, here’s the question:

Dear YPF,

Will January ever get here?

signed,
tired of waiting!

By the way, that farting butthole bear was disgustingly funny and SICK! That’s just wrong!!! WRONG I say!

Answer: This is kind of like asking, “Are we there yet? I have to pee. This car smells funny. Mom! She’s TOUCHING me!” January will get here when it gets here, not a minute before. Waiting sucks, but it’s a part of life. Now don’t make me pull this blog over and beat you, because I’LL DO IT.

Yeah, the farting butthole bear is sick and wrong. That’s why Serra posted the link. You love that sort of thing, just like everyone else who comes here.

And so, we come to the end of another exciting version of Ask Your Psychic Fiend. Just a programming note: Whiplash Smile has joined a new blog rating system. Please show your support by clicking the icon over there under Serra’s pussy.

Thanks and we’re outta here! Time to go move things around on the LOL’s work table, just for fun.

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