Ask YPF: The Gee Y’all Are Quiet Version

January 29, 2006 at 12:33 pm (Your Psychic Fiend)

Howdy everyone and welcome to this week’s edition of Ask Your Psychic Fiend. Here’s hoping YPF has kissed Serra’s ass enough since she let a bitch out of Garand’s room so that I can give you all some good answers. By the way, just as a cautionary note: Don’t piss Serra off—she now has the perfect punishment for anyone who provokes her. Trust a bitch when I say you don’t want to spend any length of time trussed up and in Garand’s room. Dayum, that guy’s something else! I’m not even going to dwell on the things I saw during those four hours enough to TELL you just how horrifying it was. Just picture Hostel with lots of aberrant sex and that won’t even come close.

No more—I can’t think about it anymore—I’m in my happy place, my happy place. I don’t see that nasty, horrible room; I don’t see that nasty bald horrible man…ah, much better.

So now—on with the psychic goodies:

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.


Anonymous Coworker
must think YPF’s asleep at the wheel:

If there were a future that even YPF couldn’t reveal, what would it be?

Answer: You’re going to have to get up earlier in the day if you think you’re going to catch YPF breaking the psychic rules. You know that if there’s a reason I can’t reveal something, asking what I can’t reveal just isn’t going to get me to spit it out. Da Grounds get snarky as hell if you try to go rogue on the rules, you know. It’s not fun trying to read answers when all they say is “Paul is Dead. Paul is dead.

In short, it’d cost you a WHOLE lot more than you pay me now to get me to break down and deal with Da Grounds when they’re mad. Nice try.

Next up we have Amber over at I Want to Be Donna Reed:

Will I ever be rich enough to just BLOG and WEB SURF all day???

Answer: Everyone’s got the whole “I’m rich—I can do what I want” all ass-backwards, Amber. We all think that when we have “enough money” to do what we want, we can just go fuck around all day long. Actually, the opposite is true.

When we’re poor, even though we have to work hard and long to get money for everything and we spend time doing things that rich people can pay others to do, we still have far fewer demands on our time because we’re not bossing all those morons who run things for us because we’re filthy rich. Once we’re off the work clock and we’ve done our thing around the house, we don’t have dumbasses calling to see if we wanted six olives on that Cobb salad we have a standing order for or seven. By the time we deal with all the nitpicky stuff others have to have our OK on (things we’d do in microseconds if we just fucking did them ourselves), there’s no time for all those things we want to do now that we’re leading supposed lives of leisure.

So be careful what you wish for—once you get it, you’ll find you really didn’t want it in the first place.

Our next question comes in from MoeThatsMe. Go Seahawks!

YPF, you KNOW you’re not supposed to take sides on shit like the Super Bowl unless the Pack is playing! –Serra

Yeah, I know, but the Seahawks coach is one we like, remember? Mike Holmgren.

Ohhh, yeah, that’s right. OK, YPF, you’re allowed to cheer for the Hawks—just don’t let Honey catch you. He’s a Steelers fan.

No problem. He forgot the blog addy anyhow.

Anyhow, here’s Moe’s question:

Will I make it home from Sacramento in time to enjoy the Seahawks in the Super Bowl??

The Hawks Rock!

Answer: What, someone actually expects you to take your ass to Sacramento on Super Bowl Sunday? That’s just fucking out of line and I’d explain to these folks that you’re just not going anywhere you don’t have to, unless they’re sending you to Detroit with an all-reservations made, all-expenses-paid trip to Detroit that includes tickets. Being so close to the D here, we don’t even plan to venture out of the house that day—we’ll be stocking the necessary munchables earlier in the week and having everything squared away in plenty of time to enjoy the game from home so we don’t have to drive amidst the tourists, morons and other out-of-towners that will be clogging the roads here.

If you just can’t get out of going, make certain you’ve made it clear that you will be departing Sacramento in plenty of time to make kickoff. Tell ‘em your grandma thinks it’ll be her last Super Bowl and you don’t want to disappoint the old bat. They’ll let you out in time if you’ve got a decent reason.

Note: Telling them that your grandfather is “suddenly dying of lung cancer and you have to go home to call him an ambulance” just won’t do it. Hat tip to MalSnay for what has to be the worst excuse to leave work EVAR.

Mona’s back, folks, with a very good one:

Dear Psychic Fiend,

What will I be?
Will I be pretty?
Will I be rich?
Will I get ‘Que Sera, Sera’ out of my head?

Mona

Answer: You’re damned lucky that song didn’t get stuck in YPF’s head, Mona! Dog, that’d be SOOOO annoying. Serra’s got the theme to Firefly stuck there now (she got the last DVD in the series from Netflix yesterday and the bonus features rock!) so there’s just no room for Doris Day, fortunately. The pain from the sinus infection the body has is bad enough—YPF would have to jab a knitting needle thru the body’s eardrums to make THAT shit stop!

Oh, that’s right, you had a question. Da Grounds have the answer: You’re already all of the above, so it’s too late. As for that song, go listen to the Firefly theme here:

Take me out to the black
Tell ‘em I ain’t comin’ back
Burn the land and boil the sea
You can’t take the sky from me.

That ought to chase that little ditty right out of your head.

Our next question is from LisaB:

Am I going to win big bucks in the lottery this year?

Answer: You know I can’t answer that question—it’s covered under the “Delicious surprises I can’t tell anyone about” clause in the Psychic Handbook. (Y’all didn’t know there was a handbook for this shit, did you? Oops—wasn’t sposed to tell you that either….) Anyhoo, do you really want a bitch to spoil a surprise that wonderful? Do you really want to know before it happens that someone may or may not dump an assload of money on your head, enabling you to have hot and cold running chocolate served by half-dressed men who are also coached to tell you that you’re gorgeous and hot and thin?

No, I didn’t think you did. But I can tell you that it helps if you actually buy a ticket for the drawing, for Dog’s sake! Sheesh! You gotta meet the Universe halfway here!

Next up is Clora Clairvoyant. Clora, YPF’s awful sorry for being so rude to you lately. I won’t do it again. At least not until I can purge the hideous images from last week’s punishment from my little brain.

Am I silly for going to a club for a “slumber party” night just because Janice Dickensen is hosting it?

Answer: Who’s Janice Dickensen? Whoever she is, don’t let her put your brassiere in the freezer—it’s hell on the elastic.

NEXT!

Hiya Ian!

Will I get my hedious lick-ass American visa on time? Or should I get the wedding postponed again?

Answer: Shit, not even the office you applied for that visa at knows if you’ll get it on time. You’d think they’d quit picking their asses long enough to get some work done ONCE a month or so, but NOOOOOO! They just love that “get paid to jerk off” thing they have going on. Da Grounds recommend calling them until you’re taking so much time away from their playing of games like “Grab ass,” “Pin the tail on the bureaucrat,” and “Photocopy our asses and mail them to our wives/girlfriends/boyfriends/hubbies” that they finally get your visa out to you just to shut you the fuck up.

It’s the only way to get it done, since they’re not going to do it without being nagged so much they think they’re home when they’re actually at work.

And that’s it for this edition of Ask Your Psychic Fiend. Maybe YPF’s being nice this week means that I’ll get away with more snark next week.

Don’t bet on it—I can still tie your ass back up, no problem. –Serra

Sighs…I know, Serra. You don’t have to do that. Wasn’t I a good YPF this week?

Yeah, you were this week, but that doesn’t mean I’ll quit watching you.

Why am I not surprised? It’s not like you have anything better to do.

Have a nice week folks, and see you next time.

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