I’ve always wanted to go to a psychic, sit down across from her/him, then throw a wicked punch right at their jaw. As the psychic was looking up from the floor, I’d be totally perplexed, “Dude, why didn’t ya duck?”.
I went to a really good psychic, dragged there out of curiousity and some very believing friends. First of all he was male, which I wasn’t expecting (I wonder what the percentages are on male vs female psychics). Most of what he said was non-specific enough and based off of a (very good) reading of my body language that it didn’t make me cry “bullshit” to his face.
I actually liked something he said: he told me my shyness and insecurity was based on the fact my creativity was stifled as a kid - ok, that would fit for most shy people, and there’s something about me that obviously said that I had an underlying creativity that was being hidden under a bushel - but it was kind of comforting nontheless (kind of like he gave me an out for not being more extroverted). I think the guy would have made a great therapist, and I hope he uses his “powers” more in that line than in telling people he’ll talk to loved ones who have “crossed over.”
It was also very interesting when my friends and I compared readings. He must have spotted me for a skeptic because my reading was much more general, and they got crap like who they were in previous lives.
And ooooh NurseCarmen your powers are spooooky! Please, the lotto numbers, quick!
I’ve been, twice. The first one was out of curiosity and boredom. She made some predictions that turned out completely true, although not terribly unlikely. The second one roped me in because she was a total babe. She was wrong on 100% of her observations.
When i was in college, there was a fair at a nearby church. They asked for volunteers among the students.
A friend of mine and I decided to set up a fortune-telling booth. We would practise something we called hydromancia-- the rules of which we made up on the spot. My friend was the assistant, dressed in flowing robes and wearing a turban! I was made up as a typical movie gypsie fortune-teller.
When each customer arrived, she’d pour water from a jug into a bowl. The client and I would each place our hands on the edge of the bowl, fingers dipped into the water.
Then I would “read” the future, i.e. make up stories for each client. Most of my predictions were of a general nature, but towards the end of the evening, I told one lady that she would give birth to twins in the near future.
Well, to my misfortune, she had twins… At the next year’s fair, the queue in front of my booth reached all the way to the back of the hall. I was so exhausted, as was my friend, that we ended up “recycling” the water, instead of providing fresh water each time.
Luckily for me, the parish priest got wind that something wasn’t quite right-- it’s a sin to practise these arts according to the Catholic Church-- and he said that the Church fair would no longer provide a fortune-telling booth.
We had posted a disclaimer that the purpose of the booth was to provide entertainment, but the untimely arrival of a set of twins makes for convincing word-of-mouth publicity.
P.S. I went to a fortune teller in a fair once. I was 14, and she told me that I’d marry someone from overseas. That sounded absurd to me, living in the middle of the boondocks at the time. However, I did eventually move to the city and marry a guy from Europe.
Hey, good test! And if you do ever meet one that says “please don’t hit me” before you even clench your fist, you’ll know you’ve finally found a real one.
That, or that word’s spread through the “biz” about the guy going around punching psychics.
Yes. It was all done in complete jest and not really expecting anything ‘real’ or accurate.
Did four psychics. Two were entertaining. One was a buzzkill and the fourth was horrible. Just horrible. A waste of my five bucks spent. She just gave fragmented bits of whatever…nonsense. She was a total fraud.
Well, one of her fragmented bits hit the nail on the head probably two years later and I didn’t remember until a year after that.
The incident involved my then boyfriend/now husbands parents and their motorcycle crash*.
*16 years ago this past saturday.
Ought to find better sex workers. Psychics should KNOW what you want!
Back in college, I was researching psychics for a journalism class (basically, to suggest that they were bullshit). One offered me a free reading.
She told me the name of my “guardian angel,” a full name that was meaningless to me. Later, I mentioned it to my mother, who told me that it was her grandmother’s name – and not a common name, at that. That was a little weird.
The psychic also told me I’d get married at 24, but that wasn’t exactly far-fetched.
The other three psychics I interviewed for the project were totally bogus. Two explained, off-record, how they would read body language, clothing, jewelry, etc., to tell the client what they wanted to hear.
Good stories, and I got an A in the class.