Ever get one of those random DMs from a “psychic” offering you a life-altering reading for the low price of your dignity? Well, this one slid into my inbox hoping for a date of birth and maybe a gullible soul. Instead, she got clairvoyant chaos, sacred sarcasm, and a one-way ticket to spiritual confusion. Behold—the divine comedy that unfolded.
Psychic: Hello 👋 Have you ever done any reading before?
Me: Only sacred scrolls and ingredient labels. Do those count?
Psychic: What’s your favorite color?
Me: Whatever hue best cloaks me from karmic debt.
Psychic: And your zodiac sign?
Me: I was born when Saturn did a backflip in Aries and the heavens blinked twice. So… complicated.
Psychic: Pick one — 1, 2, or 3.
Me: I pick 7. Yes, I know it wasn't an option. But neither was being born with clairvoyant sarcasm, and yet here we are.
Psychic: Send me your picture and date of birth.
Me: Sadly, I cannot send my picture—it's considered a relic by three obscure cults and triggers spontaneous enlightenment in at least one of them.
As for my birthday, let's just say I was born before time had the audacity to call itself linear.
Psychic: Okay. Do you want a text or FaceTime reading?
Me: Do you offer smoke signal readings? My spirit guides only speak in wisps.
(Psychic blocked me at this point)
📿✨Moral of the story: If you're going to slide into the inbox of the Enlightened, bring offerings. And maybe a translator. Preferably one who speaks fluent sarcasm and ghostly incense trails.
Laffed so hard I’d only started so finish with polite laugh, heehaw, snort, belly laugh, gut-buster, can’t-breathe-laughing-so-hard, spit out whatever I’m drinking (or eating) & fall out of my chair 😂🤣😆
snicker, giggle,
Laffed so hard I’d only started so finish with polite laugh, heehaw, snort, belly laugh, gut-buster, can’t-breathe-laughing-so-hard, spit out whatever I’m drinking (or eating) & fall out of my chair 😂🤣😆