Bouncy castles and idiots at the Psychic festival.

I have been to psychics before. One was scarily good, others Meh.

My bestie and I used to share a bottle of red and do each others Tarot and Angel cards.

All a bit of fun and admittedly reading in the cards what we wanted to read. Perusing numerous books to get the ‘reading’ that felt right. Or the answer we wanted. Or the one that would make us pee our pants just a little and wake the kids with our squeals of laughter.

So when the opportunity arose to go to a psychic festival we jumped at the chance.

Tarot, chakra and aura readings, psychics, palm reading and a smattering of freak shows.

Imagine my excitement when the first things I spied when we walked in were a Spiderman jumping castle and this:

I almost ran to the tent. Visions of voodoo magic and being able to cover my dickhead neighbour in butt pimples and Mary of the its-not-my-job in vagina dermatitis on a whim. But I was bitterly disappointed to find it was a creme to get rid of said aliments. What sort of whack job new age freaking show are they running here?

Then I got kicked off the jumping castle. Asshats. That fucking kid was almost as tall as me and HE was allowed on.

So we wandered over to band. Five teens belting out a version of ‘Are you gunna go my way’ that would make my lickable Lenny turn over in his grave. Well, if he was dead. We tried to start a mosh pit, a little hard with 2 chicks and a couple of random toddlers. No guarantee that the little fuckers would catch me if I did a stage dive anyway, they didn’t look that into it.

So with our names down at every single place for some sort of reading we grabbed a coffee and crowd watched. Assorted wannabe Goths, old hippies, half naked children and large women in lycra entertained us while we were waiting.

First opening was at the Aura and Chakra readings. I waited behind some granny with more piercings than I have ever seen in my life. After inquiring about whether it was heavy carrying around all that metal in her face she overshared that her little man in the boat had his own golden ring of lurve. I vomited a little in my mouth and wondered if it would get rusty rubbing up against her Depends.

By the time it was my turn E and I had laughed so much I considered asking metal Nanna if she had a spare continence pad and my mascara was resembling Alex from Clockwork Orange. So I fit in nicely.

I put my hand on the sensor thingy and this is what I got:

Apparently this tells him that I am tired and bubbly and happy. And my intuition is decreased. I am thinking my intuition is fucking F.I.N.E cause it tells me that you sir, are a fuckwit. Um, I just spent the last 30 minutes pissing myself laughing, cracking jokes and basically acting all, um I dunno, bubbly and happy? And one look at my eyes and you can tell I am freaking tired, asshat. Give me more for my 20 bucks or my aura will go all dark on your arse and my Chakra will chuck a wobbly.

Well he didn’t. He mumbled something about my Chakra, but I think I must of distracted him as I must have been his first customer that didn’t smell of incense and arse.

We didn’t go to the Reiki nor the Tarot chicks cause I knew them, and they were avoiding my gaze, so we wandered over to the meditation tents. They were already in session. We considered sneaking in and waiting, but by that stage everything had me in fits of laughter and I was well beyond self censoring. Not a good thing when you are trying to meditate and can’t control the snarky remarks.

Wonder if there was a little something in that complimentary brownie…

We buy some rocks stones that will supposedly help Moo with her studying. Either taped to her forehead or rectally inserted. Which ever threat works methinks. And sign up for belly dancing classes.

Finally it was time for the psychic. E went off to the palm reader chick and I waited. Turns out he was running FORTY FIVE MINUTES behind. I should have seen that as a sign.

I wandered over to listen in to E’s palm reading. A very attractive woman in her fifties was reading her palm. E was eating it up. I had to leave numerous times ‘to check on the psychic’ to prevent myself from crying with laughter. EVERYTHING was so far off the mark it was comical. But E was making excuses.

‘Your current job is not what you want to do for the rest of your life, you are studying for a promotion’ E does not work. E does not study. E said that yes she doesn’t want to be a stay at home mum for the rest of her life and she read a book about someone doing something she would like to try sometime.

Spot on lady. What a shame she didn’t have time for me. *snort*

Finally my psychic was ready. It was an old guy with the most amazing purple eyes. Yeah, probably contacts, but they were freaking awesome. He asked me to shuffle the tarot cards and I obliged. He said he needed a second to clear his aura.

And then he proceeded to snore. Sitting there, slightly slumped in his chair he was snoring. At first I thought it was an act, then he had had a heart attack or a stroke or something and then I was getting pissed. THIS is why he was running so fucking late, he was having a nanna nap on my freaking dime!

I considered kicking him in the testicles, but decided against it. He might be able to smite me or something.

Finally he woke up. I considered greeting him with a ‘good morning’ but again the smite thing. So I kept quiet. Yeah, I know! Me! Astounding what a little possible supernatural action can do for me.

So he laid out the cards and had a mini fucking orgasm he was so excited.

‘the cards represent months’ he informed me ‘the first card being here and now. You have money problems. Money is a problem. you are worried about money’

Um. Nope. Sure every one could do with more money. We are by no means rich. But after the last couple of years of being the sole wage earner and counting every single cent, we finally have some money in the bank and not borrowing money to buy a loaf of bread. So, no, money is not an issue for me right now.

‘No. We are in a better position now than in a long time’

‘Oh’ my psycho psychic backpedals ‘I didn’t mean money. I meant Creativeness. I should have been clearer. Lets make this clearer for you. You are stifled in your creativeness…’

By now I am staring him right in the purple eye and he can see the smirk. The sarcastic flick of my eyebrow. Can he read my mind? Can he see the words ‘I am so fucking blogging this..’

He starts to blather on about how wonderful it is that I have so many cups. I resist the urge to say my husband is rather proud of my cups too, but don’t want to break his concentration and anyway, I am almost drifting off with boredom.

He keeps asking me if I have any questions. I say no. I am not giving this guy an inch.

Yada yada yada. Thank God he is taping this, cause his monotonous droning is putting me to sleep. And I want strawberries. And I can’t stop thinking about eating a nice ripe strawberry. And getting some from Safeway, and something for the kids lunches tomorrow. And washing powder.

I am having my future read and all I can think about is whether to buy the 10 kilo pack of powder at Kmart or just get the 2 kilo one from Safeway…

He does pique my interest finally when he starts on about how I have to work on the inner me. And love myself more. To take it to the next level. I am thinking I might have to go to the XXX store myself then, instead of sending MPS to ‘get me a little present’ wink wink. Or use the internet for what it was invented for. P0rn and shopping for p0rn.

Then he turns over the last card and starts giggling like a school girl.

‘This is the card I was waiting for! This explains the whole reading! See that crown! Oh this is wonderful!’ and then he starts speaking in tongues or something cause I can’t understand him over all the giggling.

‘So I am a princess after all then? Hey E!’ I call over my shoulder to my bestie waiting in the wings ‘I told you I am a princess!’

‘No you are an empress. You will attain a higher enlightenment of your self and…….’

Yeah, I got distracted. One of the lycra clad women from earlier is packing up his stuff (the ‘festival’ closed an hour ago) and I am wondering how on earth she managed to squeeze her body into such a small amount of material without it exploding. Note to self: must study physics…

He asks me if I have any questions. I think perhaps it might be a little rude to ask him what I am wondering so I say no and collect my tape.

E sits down for her reading. She is excitedly feeding him all the information he needs to ‘read’ her cards. Her head bobbing up and down and I know that she is eating it up.

I consider ringing MPS and telling him that we need to add another category to our budget. ‘Kelley loving herself more fund’, but alas I have run out of credit on my phone…

Hmmmm, perhaps the psycho psychic was right. I foresee some money troubles in our future. Those toys and dominatrix boots are not cheap…

Tagged as: mumbo jumbo, psychic festival, psychic readings, wankers