Bet you didn’t know that about me, did you?

Well, that’s because I’m not all snooty about it.

And, there were six other stars in the movie, all with equal billing.

And it’s a Canadian movie.

A documentary.

Oh snap. I know. Try to contain yourselves.

Truth is, over 200 psychics from my area were interviewed for this film. And only 7 were selected. So I felt speshul. Don’t spoil it for me.

Okay, I’m over it now.

I was really surprised that the film crew were so nice. And helpful. We had a potluck as part of the filming, because I held meditation groups at my house, and they wanted to get them some of that riveting footage. Who knows what could happen? Anyway, the crew stuck around afterwards to help clean up.

The director even hired me to teach an energy raising class in a fun way for her daughter’s birthday party. It was great fun for them and me too.

You weren’t likely to see it in your local theatres, unless it was during a film festival. There was one screening locally, and I was gobsmacked to later meet another person who had actually seen it.

It was a well done film, as are documentaries from the National Film Board of Canada. And no, I’m not linking it. Go find it yourself. Hah! It’s called “The Kitchen Goddess”.

I took Ass Burger Boy and Skinny Bitch with me to the screening. We had so much fun at the catered, celebrity-filled (real celebrities!) pre-party that we arrived late for the actual screening.

We had to sit in the front row, as those were the only seats left.

It didn’t bother me a bit to have a camera the size of my living room ten inches from my face during the filming.

Note: It is painful to see a closeup of your face on the big screen when you are in the front row. And for Skinny Bitch, it was doubly painful, because she had just gotten out of her halo, a device that is used to immobilize the head of patients with neck and head injuries.

But that’s a story for another day. I do love me some Skinny Bitch.

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You remember Skinny Bitch don’t you? A total delight she is.

SB is the most practical person I can remember meeting. She loves money, and she adores saving it. In fact, I remember her catch phrase at one time was “Squirrel it away, witchypoo, squirrel it away.”

She took her own advice, bought a great house and invested the rest. This is not a frivolous woman.

I stroll into her bed and breakfast back yard to find her hard working husband doing some hard yard work. Then I notice this troll-like creature that is snurffling around the yard. (I know that is a made up word, but snuffling doesn’t quite do it justice)

This creature, this almighty wicked hideous creature, has short legs, noisy asthma, and one blind googly eye. To call it a troll is to dis the entire troll kingdom of trolliness.

So I ask Mr. SB “What in the name of very bad words everything gone wrong is THAT???” Yes, several question marks because I was that incredulous. Mr. SB, a very manly man I might point out, replied in a reverent tone: “That’s SB’s dog, Henry. She loves him.” (SB has him so whipped. She has that effect on all men.)

He watches with his customary reserve as I completely lose it. Just howling with laughter in a puddle of helpless laughy goo. I’m SB’s friend, we’re both nuts. No big. He’s used to it.

When SB gets home, I very casually ask her about the stab-myself-in-the-eye fugly dog thing. She’s all effusive, Henry this, Henry that.

SB: “I call him Handsome Henry!” For once, I am speechless.

She shows me his “trick”. It’s where he stands back, to judge if it’s safe to come near her, because sometimes, SB doesn’t want to be touched. She’s neurotic. Even the stupid troll thingie gets it.

Me: “SB, that isn’t a trick. It’s a behaviour. Everyone who knows and loves you has learned it.”

She still insists it’s his trick, then demonstrates how cute he is when his little tongue sticks out while his head is cocked. It looks much cuter when she is doing it.

Me: “SB, did you pay money for Handsome Henry?”

SB (reluctantly) “Ye-es.” I drag the details out of her, because, really,there is no way I can leave this alone, knowing her financial habits as I do. She paid about a grand for a dog that was unregistered, blind in one eye, has death rattle asthma, is incredibly stupid, and by the way? He needs special food. Special expensive food. And huge vet bills.

Me: (rolling eyes) “SB, I’ve known you for about twelve years now. I feel I know you well. I have special powers and all. For the life of me, I just don’t understand why you parted with so much money for Handsome <shudder> Henry.

SB: (in a very small voice) “I was afraid that nobody else would love him.”

See? How can you not love a woman like Skinny Bitch?

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I talked to Skinny Bitch on the phone today.
I wanted to tell her I was going to blog about her.
She was all Say whatever you want.
She is the best possible friend to have.
I think I will list some reasons why:

1. She offered to raise my kid if I croak early.
2. She always insists I stay with her and not some
stank hotel when I am in her city.
3. SB is the funniest woman ever. Cracks me up.
4. She is both OCD and neurotic. An endless source of
Skinny Bitch stories.
5. She’s loaded, but she loves to clean.
6. She is drop dead gorgeous. So much fun to watch mens
get totally stoopid around her.
7. She’s even funnier when she is in a bitchy mood.
People fear her. I just collapse into a puddle of
helpless laughter.
8. She uses the jumbo margarita glasses to serve wine.
That way, her guests are puzzled why they got hammered.
“But I only had three glasses of wine” Three of those
glasses=one bottle of wine.
9. Skinny Bitch is afraid of Cheezies. Yet she loves to eat them.
She can always find somebody who is willing to feed her cheezies.
It’s so much fun that I would hate to suggest using toothpicks.
People will do anything for her.
10. She does not cook. Her husband does. She is afraid to touch
meat or potatoes.
11. She’s sharp as a tack, but her comedic genius is in her
delivery. A lot of people don’t get her, because they are
so hung up on her looks, and just can’t get past that.
12. I get my twisted kicks by ever so slightly moving something
say, on her coffee table. Then I watch her twitch until she
can’t stand it, and she has to LINE IT UP PERFECTLY, like it
was before I messed with her head. She knows I have done this,
so she tries to be sneaky about re-aligning the object.

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I just stumbled back from the comments section over at OMSH and
thought “Dang!” because I do actually think in exclamation marks.

I shared something relevant in the comments section,but the
Dang! was because I should have used my thoughts as an entry.

The entry was about her heartache over catching a church member
cheating on his wife, with his wife’s so-called best friend.

I have been reading tea leaves, palms, tarot cards, entrails, etc.,
for more than 24 years.

I can count on the fingers of ONE HAND how many women straight up
wanted to know if hubby was cheating.

Why?
I’m glad you asked. I have certainly asked myself.
Oh, wait. It’s because they don’t want to know.

If the one who has vowed to forsake all others isn’t through with
all the forsaking, then action must be taken.
When children are involved in the scenario, said action becomes
frightening. Who wants to risk the emotional and financial
security of their children?

If cheating spouse is confronted, he will either deny or confess.
With a confession, there is either a change of behaviour or not.
Personally, I think it is genetically encoded to deny, deny, deny.
But that’s me. I’ve seen their work.
I’m not bitter. A little bitter, okay? Back off.

If the cheating behaviour changes, there is a long,
sob-filled period before trust is built up.

If there is no change in the behaviour, there are two choices:
1. break up your formerly happy family unit.
2. pretend it isn’t still happening.

See why they don’t want to know?

Now for those that DO want to know:

They have their reasons.

Usually, they are gathering justifications or evidence for an
impending divorce.
Sometimes (And I swear this actually happened), they want to know
when he is going to die, so they don’t lose all kinds of financial
ways in the divorce.

I actually advised one woman to hang on a bit, that a widow gets
it all, where in a divorce, the lawyers get it all.
Quote from witchypoo: “The only way you can lose here is if you
kill him your own self.” (or have him killed)

Plotting carefully the demise of one’s husband reminds me of my
dear friend, Skinny Bitch. She is a delight.

You may hear about her soon.

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