Ask Your Psychic Fiend: The Flaming Table Stack Version

January 6, 2006 at 10:37 am (Your Psychic Fiend)

Good afternoon (it’s morning now but it’ll be after noon by the time I finish writing this up) and welcome to this week’s edition of Ask Your Psychic Fiend. This week’s version name comes from the DVD Serra got from Netflix yesterday. She watched “ECW: Extreme Evolution” while she finished H’sMa’s scarf. During one match, this little itty bitty guy went through 2 FLAMING tables, after demolishing a concession stand, taking a cheese grater upside his head repeatedly, and spent a good 20 minutes giving as good as he got. Damn, YPF misses good wrestling—now we’re stuck with small doses of TNA and massive amounts of garbage. Bleh, it’s just not as much fun to watch as it used to be. Most of those ECW guys either work for WWE now or did for awhile, and Vinnie Mac just plain wasted the most talent he ever had at his disposal.

Oh, well, you didn’t come here to mourn the death of pro wrestling, you came to see what Da Grounds of Infinite Augury say, so let’s throw ‘em at the wall and see what sticks. Here’s the 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 Your Psychic Fiend’s wiseassed interpretations of coffee grounds thrown at the wall, 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 demonic disciples of Pat Robertson 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, stupid-whore assbags like Miss Cleo and her ilk should have been smashed against a rock at birth.

Now—on with the show.

First up is MoeThatsMe, with an interesting question:

ohhhh First! YEAH!
No what was the question?

When will I recover from the empty (not so empty) nest syndrom going on in my heart now that I have to make an appointment to spend time with my 20 year old son … even tough he lives in the same house!?

Answer: Da Grounds say there’s a few ways you can choose to deal with it. If you’d like a spontaneously-done, quiet yet fun evening at home, simply swipe his distributor cap and you’ll have instant kid-at-home. When you take the cap off, leave the wires on so that it’s not so hard to replace when you finally admit you just wanted some time with the kid.

Perhaps a better answer would be starting a “Dinner and a Movie Night” at home. Pick a movie theme that everyone likes, plot either ordering in, taking out, or whomping up a batch of food that works well in front of the tube, and watch two or three movies together. If the movies suck, you’ll be talking, giggling and doing your own version of MST3000. If they’re good, you’ll all be digging them together. Either way, you can’t lose, can you?

Another idea is a once a month day out for you and the kids. Pick somewhere you all want to go visit and do it. Once a month isn’t much time to ask for, and while it’s actually making an appointment with the kid, it does make him realize you would like to see where all the disappearing food and soda pop you’re putting in the house goes.

Hope these help and have fun!

Next vict—

What did I tell you about calling the people who ask you questions “victims,” YPF? I told you it wasn’t nice. –Serra

Oh, suck me sideways, ya fat ho! This is MY time to piss off the Internet, so shut the—

Think about that before it comes out your piehole, YPF. Martha still has buddies in the Joint who want to “meat” you…

Le Sigh…fine. Just shut the fuck up so I can think here.

Our next question comes to us from the fine folks over at The Sock Monkey. It’s great to see you, Jane Bear.

Will my cat marry yours? And if so, will they invite us to their wedding?

Answer: Da Grounds say not until one of our states allows gays to marry—my kitty’s a girl too, you see. Besides, my cat can’t cook—she just sits by her dish and awaits service from one of the slaves she has here in the house. Your cat would get the shitty side of the litterbox. Hope yours is feeling better though.

Next is Anonymous Coworker, with a dire problem indeed.

I seem to have lost my blog mojo! What can I do to get my mojo back?

Answer: Da Grounds say you need to feed your head. “Garbage in, garbage out” is an absolutely true statement, and look at what you’ve been feeding your brain lately. All that eggnog has plugged your cranial blood supply full of cholesterol-laden, nutmeg-spiced goodness. (By the way, what on earth made you think that any eggnog that started its shelf life in powdered form could possibly taste like anything but lighter fluid?) You’ve been binging on rich, low-nutrient foods, TV shows and movies, icky-sweet Christmas specials, challenging your brain’s systems only with trying to find parking spaces at crowded malls and finding your way over the river and thru the woods.

It’s time to get back to basics—Go see Hostel or some other movie that’s totally devoid of sweetness and light. Arrange some sort of drunken debauchery. Skip the strip mall and find a strip club! Shake off the “Oh, it’s the holidays, aren’t the lights pretty?” mentality and get back to normal and you’ll find your mojo, resting amongst the ammo for the air pistol that is your blogging sense.

Our next question comes from LisaB:

Am I going to have a happy birthday?

Answer: Da Grounds have a lot of questions, but the answers are really none of their business, so we’re just going to have to pretend they’re not being so fucking snoopy and read the other things on the wall.

Hold on…he really wore that? Oh, Lisa, you lucky WENCH!

The answer is, of course, yes, you’re going to have a happy birthday—with the company you keep it’s impossible not to. You’ve got a great pile of friends there with you, so you’re going to have a wonderful birthday.

Our next query floated in from Clora. Hope your party was really fun and no one got divorced or arrested over it.

That reminds me—I should tell you about a friend of mine whose parties were famous for those very things, but that’s several posts all by themselves, so we’ll do it another time.

will this gross hacking cough that hurts my throat and lungs ever go away? I feel like a smoker!

Answer: Sure, it’ll go away. Just set the crack pipe down and start mainlining your coke. You know you want to anyway. You’ll do less coke and get more bang for your buck.

YPF! You apologize to Clora! You KNOW she’s not that kind of Clairvoyant! –Serra

Aw, blow it out yer ass, Serra! She lives in Vegas—VEGAS, BABY!

So the fuck what, you stoopid ho? Who do you think serves all that tourism industry there? Not everyone in Vegas is doing lines off a hooker’s ass and wondering which cockfight they’re going to see after watching that snuff film.

Yes they are—it’s VEGAS, BABY!

No, they’re not! There ARE normal, happy, well-adjusted, sober folks in Las Vegas! There HAVE to be—how else does the place run, do you think?

The midgets run it after the daily human sacrifices…

YPF, I’m gonna shove your ass in a coffee can full of cigarette butts again, but this time I’m mailing the fucker to Alderson!

NOOOOOO!

Oh, yes, bitch. Just keep running your face and being nasty to Clora and see how fast Priority Mail will get you there.

Sighs…Fine. Spoil the fun.

Sorry, folks, Serra’s really turning into an old bag.

Clora’s serious answer: If you’re still feeling like hammered shit by the time you read this, you should hie your ass over to a doctor. I know they’re awful busy there checking hookers for stray balloons of heroin, but there should be one with enough time to get you on an antibiotic. If it hasn’t let up yet you likely do need one. Meanwhile go find some Mucinex at the drugstore—that shit’ll clear your lungs enough to breathe quite nicely. Diffusing some eucalyptus in a steamy bathroom will ease your chest some as well.

There, Serra—I was nice. ARE YOU FUCKING HAPPY NOW?

Maybe. I’m going to keep an eye on this though. We have a new guy asking questions and he may not understand that your weekly post is an exercise in bitchdom. Be NICE to him or it’s the cinnamon essential oil enema for you!

Whatever. Yawn. Done now?

Yep.

Can I get on with this?

If you behave, yep.

At last.

Hi, Euian—welcome to Ask Your Psychic Fiend. If you don’t like the answer to your question, YPF politely suggests that you read the disclaimers and rules.

What birthday present will I recieve this coming Friday 13th?

Answer: Da Grounds have an excellent birthday laid out for you. Ponies, clowns, strippers, body shots, the whole excellent party thing going on…

I told you I was watching, YPF—you tell Euian what you really see!

Fine, bitch, what—EVAR!

Euian, our policy here on Ask Your Psychic Fiend is not to ever ever blow the surprise on things like Christmas, birthday parties, whether it’s a boy or a girl, and things like that. That means I can’t actually tell you what you’re getting for your birthday, but a nice hefty shot of Penicillin will cure it.

THAT DOES IT!

SLAM!

Stepping up to the podium, the coffee can I’m carrying thumping and trying to jump out of my hands.

Hi, folks, Serra here. YPF has to go now because she doesn’t know how to behave in decent company. I’m sorry, Euian, but we really don’t blow surprises here. It’s more fun to discover them the usual way.

I have to get going now too—I have a cinnamon oil enema to give, then I have to pack a box for the mailman, and email Martha so she can tell her friends there’s fresh meat on the way.

Feel free to sign up for the Ask YPF notices list over on the sidebar and leave anything you have to say in the comments below.

Damn, I don’t look forward to trying to put this bitch in a thong for delivery.

See ya!

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