Oh, she's psichick

Man, my stomach is grumpy. Probably has a lot to do with the gas. Hey, flatulence is nothing to be sneezed at, you know. You could cause an accident, or have one, or something.

So it's like 3 am. Okay, I'm at work and it's almost 11 am, but it's a holiday week and it FEELS like 3 am. I began my celebrating early and I can barely type. Stop judging me. Let he who has the glass balls, cast the first stones, I always say.

So there's this blonde next to me at work, I may have mentioned her before at times, who believes in psychics. And, let me first say to my naysayers, NAY, i say! It's not that I don't believe in psychic phenomena. I myself have been involved in several incidents of paranormal tomfoolery, including, but not limited to, demonic possession, astral projection, and frequent and uncontrollable urination caused by a painful swelling of the prostate. So it's not that I don't believe there's nothing to it, it's just that I think people who try to capitalize on the emotional vulnerabilities of others should be shot in the tenders.

Not that I haven't done my fair share of taking advantage of emotional vulnerabilities, mind you, but it's never been for money. I have my standards, low and feeble as they are.

Sweet jesus I can barely type, bear with me, not all my parts are working this morning. If I wasn't at work I'd watch sheep porn for a few hours until my brain was functional but they frown on that kind of thing here. Not that it's against company policy or anything, but if my addiction to sheep porn was to come to light, I'd have to switch fetishes, which involves submitting a lengthy form to the fetish subcommittee, and then I'd have to choose what new fetish I'd want, and then have it be approved, and frankly, they are only approving midget fetishes lately, and I really don't like midgets. Oh great, now having said that, I'm going to get midgets flaming me. Better than flaming midgets I suppose. That can be taken two ways. Not sure which would be worse, gay midgets mad at me or actual midgets on fire. Mmmm midget bbq. With the right condiments that could be AWESOME!!

So anyway, some months past, the crazy aunt of this blonde went to a psychic. And she'd probably be mad at me for using her life as the subject of a blog, but eh, if she kicks my ass it's all just foreplay anyway. So the crazy aunt visits this psychic, who, mind you, isn't some flea-bitten crystal-ball gazing gypsy in a carnival side show. Ooohhhhh nooooo, this is a certified $100 an hour psychic consultant we're talking about here. So she's 100% reliable! YEA BABY!!!!! I don't even think death and taxes are as reliable as this psychic.

So the psychic tells this crazy aunt some loopy shit, and claims to have been kept up all night by the dead relatives. Of course, if all her clients dead relatives were keeping her up all night, she'd probably be dead by now of exhaustion. But does this enter into anyone's heads? of course not, she makes $100 an hour, she HAS to be worth it, right? To me, that's like saying, "I READ IT ON THE INTERNET, IT MUST BE TRUE!!!" Holy crap man, I am making typos like crazy. Fingers and digits failing miserably. Anyway, I digress. So the aunt buys this and tells the blonde next to me, who is now springing for this psychic for a $100 session, and I'm trying to tell her this lady is just using the information gleaned from other clients and private detectives (or however they do it, you don't have to be an expert in how to con someone to know they are conning someone) to bone her out of her $100. But, alas, my logic is falling on deaf ears.

So you'd think if this lady was that psychic, the government would have hired her to, i don't know, prevent terrorist plots, or let us know where life exists in the universe, I mean, let's be serious now, it's probably a LOT easier to pay a lady $100 an hour to tell us where to look for life on other planets rather than send a five hundred million dollar probe into space to find out, right? And if her information was that spot-on, you'd think life would be TONS better around here on earth. They'd know how to cure cancer, how to prevent war and hunger, and more importantly, the answer to life's greatest mysteries, like why DO blonde believe in psychics?

What's that? I wouldn't doubt her ability if i'd ever actually met a real psychic? Doesn't that pretty much answer your own question? I've never even heard of a real psychic, let alone met one. I've watched sylvia brown (someone who half my family says knows what she's talking about) on TV, and seen half a dozen psychic shows, and haven't believed a one of them. There's a reason they say FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY. And it's not just for reason of bias, either, although I must admit, I think psychics are a crock. I am pretty sure that, not only were the psychics lying through their teeth, but they KNEW they were lying, which means that not even they buy their own bullshit.

But hey, I HAVE actually experienced some psychic phenomena. When I was watching TV late once, during a particularly scary part of a movie, I heard a rattling in my house. Have you ever been so engrossed in a movie or book or something, that when someone says something to you, it doesn't register right away, and you look up a minute later and ask them "What?" or respond to their question as if it had just registered on your brain? Well, that happened to me this time. Whatever I was watching (can't remember what it was), it was so engrossing that despite being the only one awake in the house and despite it being the dead of night (like 2 am), a rattling noise in the very same room as me did NOT immediately garner my attention. Oh no. It took a moment for my mind to go HEY DICKHEAD THERE'S A NOISE IN THE ROOM YOU ARE ALONE IN!!!! LOOK NOW!!!! So, perhaps belatedly, I turn my head to locate the source of the noise. Which turns out to be a picture of flowers on the wall. Which i notice is rattling against the wall, and as soon as I rest eyes on this picture, it promptly drops off it's nail and shatters on the floor. Yes, I know, creepy, huh? So i immediately notified my mom that there was some glass she needed to clean up off the living room rug. As in, I ran from the room wetting myself and crying like a girl and told her the picture had thrown itself off the wall to shatter violently on the floor, and she cleaned up the glass and that was that. Whether she believed me or not is another matter, but since she trusts sylvia brown, I assume she at least had the inclination to do so. I can't remember how old I was at the time, judging from the amount of crying and wetting, I was probably 35 or so.

I'm not going into the account of demonic possession, because quite frankly, this is the only pair of pants I brought into work and if I end up jumping into the blonde's lap and hugging her for comfort while I cry my eyes out, WITH urine-soaked pants, I may ruin my chances of sleeping with her. Possibly.

But there you have it, an in depth look at WHY BLONDES BELIEVE IN PSYCHICS, this week on the PSYCHIC NETWORK. I don't even think there is such a thing as the psychic network. Not on TV, at least. I mean, what would be the point, you could just broadcast it to the minds of everyone worldwide and anyone who wanted to focus in and pay attention, would, right? Then again, it may already exist, those stupid Geico commercials are stuck in my head. Psychic advertising, perhaps? Could be worse, I guess. If they start sending me viagra ads via pop-up, I am in big trouble.