Tuesday, February 26, 2008

The future's bright...

It's an eventful half-hour in which you find out that you're going to be getting married in 2009, will later have two kids (a boy and a child), will move house in the next six months and get a dog, be offered a new job in May, have a book published (but not a novel. Sob) and finally, to cap it all off, will script write, star in and direct your own film/comedy series. Jumpin' Jeebus, I haven't had to assimilate so much info since the night before the Business Org. exam in the leaving, and I fucked that up too.

But I want to get something clear before I go on - and I know I do tend to go on - I'm not a fuckwit. There are many reading this who will think that fuckwits who go to fortune tellers are, as it says on their tin, fuckwits. I am alot of things but fuckwit is not one of them.

That said, I did go to a fortune teller at the weekend. Like a proper fuckwit. What can I say, I like to try out new experiences for the craic and a friend of mine told me this particular tarot reader was good. It's just a rite of passage type thing I wanted to cross off the list of life experiences, like smoking, having my first pint, my first kiss (in that order, I'm Irish) and also, learning to crack walnuts between the cheeks of my arse.

I wouldn't class myself as especially spiritual or anything; a spiritual awakening to me generally means a dozy jolting to life shortly after Communion is over. Nor do I run about in a purple cape tripping across my crystal balls and wondering if my tantric chakras are properly aligned with the equinal aspect of the sun in Aries. But hey, I was curious and my mind is a sieve. I mean sewer. Feck it to hell, I meant to say sponge. Ah whatever, fuck off Freud.

Back at the tent, it didn't get off to a great start as my mystic was running slightly late, reminiscent of the clairvoyant that had to close due to unforeseen circumstances, I mused. Anyway, I entertained myself during my wait by counting the intervals between passing ambulances outside and by browsing through the trays of spangly jewellery, mystic runes, incense candles, spell books, mood rings and magical stones. It was like being in a hardware shop in Cavan, (where every man has magical stones), only I couldn't get a pint and there were no coffins out the back.

Herself eventually emerged from her little booth at the back of the shop some time later, disappointingly not through a veil of click-clackety beads or in a cloud of smoke, and ushered me in, disappointingly not with a warty crooked finger with pointy claws. She looked the part in other ways though. She had a big swishy power-overcoat on, upturned collar and all the way down to her ankles, dark panda-effect makeup on her huge eyes and what I'd call 'suitable' jewellery - in that it was fucking ridiculous shit that nobody other than a fortune teller would wear. It was the sort of stuff Jimmy Saville threw out in the 70s, before the BBC found it again and gave it to Pat Butcher.

I liked her hair though. Very dark, well kept and nicely groomed, you know, like a big horse. I can't stand soothsayers with deliberately 'mad' hair, looking all loopy like Kate Bush on a bad hair day or Einstein, who just had bad hair every day.

Anyway, I was mystically enlightened over the next half hour. In that my wallet was enlightened by about 50 euro. I have to say I didn't go in there with grandiose expectations but that said, still wasn't terribly impressed overall. There was some insights she tumbled to unprompted (she knew I was into the gym and stuff) but in looking back, alot of the stuff she did say that seemed to make any sense was probably only accurate because I'd revealed something earlier and she was building on that. Or then again, maybe nobody, not even the sharpest occult mind, can penetrate the multi-layered labyrinthine halls of the layered chambers of Terence McDanger's fantastic personality onion behind the mask.

She certainly didn't do as well as she did for my friend, but there were a few things she got right though.

Such as, near the end, she told me that she could see I was into reading and writing, but especially liked humour and wacky stuff. "In fact," she giggled, "I think you'll probably soon write something taking the piss out of fortune tellers."

Er....

15 moos and woofs:

Thriftcriminal said...

Ha! Tarot. REAL soothsaying is done by plunging your arms up to the elbows into the entrails of a recently sacrificed goat! Check out the fortune teller in the film Mallrats, now her I would go to.....

Rosie said...

i went once - i was due to meet my soulmate in january. tall, dark-haired, meet him through work...

*tumbleweed*

conclusion: it's a load of balls.

nuttycow said...

Hell, at least it was a fortune teller telling you this and not your significant other (if applicable). That would be scary.

I've never held much for the fortune thing - especially not for £40 odd.

"I forsee you will be losing a significant sum of money in the near future"

Paul Heron said...

50 euro !?!
Just read the post again...
50 euro !?!
Ouch...
50 euro, I can only assume it's your good natured side which hoped to give us all a laugh ;-)

Terence McDanger said...

Well yes Paul like so many things now, I went into it knowing I'd get an ould blog out of it if nothing else!

Ach she wasn't all bad in fairness, there were some things she came up with, but I wouldn't write them in my blog as I want to maintain my cover as an international moo of mystery.

I'll have the last laugh though, when I'm rowing with the new missus over whose turn it is to burp the two babies or walk the dog, because I'll be pressed for time trying to hold down a new job and write my new smash hit TV series. That'll learn ye!

Baino said...

mmm . . commented yesterday and it didn't save . . poo!

Ahhh . . load of bunkum and fifty euro! I knew you were mad. Although I should have paid more attention to my Feb horoscope which warned of a foot injury! Broke me bloody toe on a door stop last week!

Terence McDanger said...

You flamin' galah:)

Kath Lockett said...

Good post, Terry McD. I'm curious though - have you learned, yet, to crack walnuts between your arse cheeks?

Terence McDanger said...

Alas no, but if I try very hard I can open doors with round handles (for when I've got two cups of tea, for instance), if I reverse just right.

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