Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Psychic Readings..

I got my fortune told the other day, and in retrospect I am pissed off that I did it. I don’t understand why I paid some woman with saggy boobs and acne scars to tell me about how miserable my life is. I left there a little sickened with the thought that this woman was making so much money off people when I don’t even think she is legit. Below are some of the things that made me ask the question: “How ‘psychic’ is this bitch?” **NOTE** I DO BELIEVE IN THOSE WITH SUPERNATURAL ABILITIES, JUST NOT THIS FAKER.

1. My Love Life

This Miss Cleo wannabe told me that I was having issues in relationships, as if that was some ground breaking phenomenon. Hmmm...Ok, well, I counter that statement with “Who isn’t?” Are you trying to sit there and tell me that I am the ONLY person who is having love issues? Everyone else is completely happy? No Ma’am.

2. My Poor Life Decisions

She asked me why I didn’t go to school longer, “you should have kept going”. Now, for those of you who have the pleasure of listening to me have complete break downs about my second guessing of opting not to pursue a college education, you will know that this rattled me a little. This is when I started to doubt her though. I sat there for a hot minute and pondered how she could have known this. Well, one reason could have been that I look like I am 12, I mean I got a kid’s menu the other day, it’s not a secret that I look like a 7th grader. Aside from my cherubic demeanor, I am sure she also noted how soft and moisturized my hands were, due to my bi-monthly paraffin waxes, and thought that they could only be the hands of someone not withered and aged my the cruelties of time.

3. “You Hate Yourself, You Are Not Happy”

While hate is a strong word, I will give her this, I am not “in love” with myself, which is sad, I know. And while I do have difficulties embracing myself, I have to point out this tiny fact. If you were a borderline plus size gay man in West Hollywood, wouldn’t you find it hard to love yourself too? I mean, sure I have a personality that is pretty damn impressive, I must say, but WeHo is the pinnacle of gay perfection, which means you should only be seen, and not heard. I am not one of these 6’2 waxed, bleached, tanned, buffed, men in designer (although this is Yves Saint Laurent mascara, thanks for asking), who carries his teacup Chihuahua in a Louis tote. I am 5’8 wearing a Banana Republic bag and Jessica Simpson platforms, how couture am I? This bitch hit the nail on the head, but it is a bit of an exaggeration, because while all these men are gorgeous, they are equally as self loathing as I, for one reason or another. No big shocker, lady.


She put on quite a show I must say, I mean she was no Meryl Streep, but more like a Hillary Swank, doing enough work to get by, and still getting invited to parties just because she has been around long enough. Whatever.
I do need to love myself more, I am taking that lesson from the experience, but I am also telling myself that she is just some lady with a couch who “reads palms”. At least she didn’t start sacrificing a goat in front of me. I mean, I know that these are Jessica Simpson shoes, but do you know how hard it is to get blood out of suede?


Loving you, and myself Always. Ever so thankful for your support..

Xoxoxooxx
William

2 comments:

  1. Please post more!! I am a new fan. You have a book in the making.

    PS = What is WeHo?

    ReplyDelete
  2. duhhh, West Hollywood....kind of like SoHo - South Homewood!!!

    ReplyDelete