November 25th, 2009 | 12 Comments »

Ever since all of this swine flu bidness, I’ve been staying much closer to home, and washing hands and surfaces that others have touched.

I have no sick days. If I’m too sick to work, why, I just don’t work. (Or get paid) As if that isn’t bad enough, the week following an absence is sparse, because people find other favourites if their first choice isn’t available on their regular schedule.

Last week, I had problems with my telephone line after a nor’easter, which around here, means a big, cold windy storm. I lost a week’s pay. Not the best time of year for it, either. Now I’m working to wow new callers so they will be loyal to me. (To replace the clients that were wowed by other psychics when I wasn’t available) I still have the persistent cough from over six weeks ago.

So, all you people who are making fun of my germophobia?

Bite me.

From afar. I don’t want your germs, thankyouverymuch.

Posted in What's this?
November 8th, 2009 | 16 Comments »

Most everybody in my hometown had nicknames, crazy nicknames like Cardboard, and Neva Nabber. They meant something in particular to the originator, but whether you knew the origin or not, the nicknames stuck.

The last time I visited there, my BFF from highschool took me with her to visit Neva Nabber,who had recently returned home to live.

During our catching up, Neva mentioned that her gay son lives in Salt Lake City. whereupon my recent research of FLDS sects kicked in, especially the old ways of dealing with sinners whose sins were too serious for the blood of Christ to atone for. So I figured a gay man in SLC was a target for Blood Atonement.

me: SLC? That’s an evil place for a gay man!

Neva: SLC is very cosmopolitan. Why do you say it’s evil?

me: Cause it’s full of those effing MORMONS!

Neva: Oh. Well, we’re a Mormon family.

me: frozen smile, cutting eyes wildly to BFF, who is trying very hard not to look at me.

me: changes subject, convo continues.

We had a mostly lovely visit. Neva was still the perky, fun-filled person she always was, and we left on good terms.

BFF and I get into the car, look at one another and totally lose it. Big, long gaspy breaths, tears streaming down the face. There may have been a little pee.

It’s good to know I still have the knack.

November 3rd, 2009 | 12 Comments »

Sometimes, when psychics get together, they like to exchange stories, without naming names, of course. Some of us are mediums, which means we can connect with those who have passed on before us, and it isn’t only people that hang around after they die.

Which brought me to the whole ill-advised schtick I did about hamsters, and how they had to be the bic of pets. Cheap to obtain, very short life expectancy, and ultimately replaceable. (Well, if one would consider replacing a rodent that keeps a body up all night on that noisy danged hamster wheel.) Disposable. Could it be any other way? I thought not.

Then this medium chimes in. Now some of us have medium-istic abilities; I do myself, although I can’t refrain from replying “I’m a medium-large” when asked if I’m a medium. This guy, however, doesn’t do cards or runes, or anything else except talk to the dead. It’s his specialty.

He opens by telling us about a woman he read for. He immediately told her “I see a hamster sitting on your shoulder” whereupon the woman immediately collapsed into a noisy sobbing heap and caused quite a scene. Seems her hamster recently passed and she had trouble dealing.

I was starting to feel bad for my callous hamster remarks. People have feelings for their pets, even if they are only short-timers. I’m thinking I need to have more compassion.

Then the medium lost it. He dissolved into a gooey puddle of laughy glee that he could not contain. He was gasping as he recounted how hard it was for him to continue the reading with a straight face.

Moral: Beware of mediums if your heart has been broken by a hamster.Some of them can be real arseholes.

Posted in critters, spooky shytte