Washington DC. I grew up dreaming of the monuments and history. Then I went there and it totally sucked. Uncle Barack didn’t even have the decency of being in town. Syrian Rebels apparently take precedent. Paging Bill Clinton. I have a blue dress and am not afraid to use it.
Luckily, Juanita saved me… cause we fucking create history. It is kind of cute that the boys in DC have such big egos. But I don’t have time for all that drama. The only narcissist in my life is me. And Juanita. She’s sometimes worse than me. But I’ll forgive her.
So during our visit to DC, Juanita and I headed to Georgetown for much needed shopping. Best prescription that my therapist ever prescribed me—when having a bad day, spend 10K. But, we didn’t have 10K. More like $10. I can only go “real” shopping with my parents because otherwise they guilt trip me and tell me to “pay for it myself.” Like who does that to their children? Eww.
So we did the next best thing, $5 palm readings. Juanita warned me that psychics profile you. I told her not to worry her pretty little head off. Worrying causes frown lines and wrinkles.
When we got to the psychic, the smelly old hag immediately noticed Juanita’s Neiman Marcus bag, which I was fucking holding for her. But no worries, she sale shopped. We don’t pay full price, that’s what daddy’s checkbook is for. DUH.
Juanita gave me the “I told you so” resting-bitch face. That caused even more wrinkles. Luckily, botox is seriously the best invention of modern medicine. Who says vaccines are important when everyone knows that good looks are what gets you through hard times. No pun intended. It was ironic though, cause I thought profiling was just for cops (more on that later.)
Turns out the $5 dollar palm reading didn’t include a whole reading. We opted for the $25 upgrade. Life is just like flying, always upgrade. That is a mantra of my life.
Juanita, the skeptic, went for her reading first to get it over with. When she went into the room, I worried that she was being murdered. But she came out and she was glowing. Then it was my turn. And I didn’t get to hear about her reading first, so I went into it blind. I guess the future was calling.
First, I had to hold a crystal stick to determine how much energy I have. Apparently I have a lot. But Monica, the psychic said my energy is the wrong kind. I have a curse. I got it from my momma. In the womb. Allegedly, someone did black magic or voodoo on my mom because my mom had a conflict with a woman in her family while she while she was pregnant with me. And this curse will be passed to my children. Fuck. But it got worse.
Monica said I will find love but not until I am healed since I am on a path to failure. The bitch also said that when I walk into a room people can read my bad energy. Excuse me? I thought I had a radiant energy, what kind of psychic school did Monica go to anyway?
I guess she could sense how upset I was, so she tried to sugar coat things. She said that I have faced a lot of obstacles early in life, and that I care more about helping others than myself. She then went on to say that lot of people take advantage of me, and there’s only a handful of people that I can trust. Thanks, for the memories of my shitty childhood, Monica.
But it got spookier. She said that recently there was a man who disappointed me and that we would have a conflict in 2 weeks. Earth to the Monica, a man disappoints me on a regular basis. Welcome to being a girl. If you are Roberta or Juanita, you attract trouble.
Monica’s solution to my curse was to work with me at her office doing meditation and yoga to “heal me.” And guess what? This was the only solution for me to be on the path for a “good life and success.” She even told me she would give me a discount so it would ONLY cost $375. There’s no magic pill to make you lose three inches off your waist, so I figured psychic energy must be the same. So, I smiled, took her card and tipped her because I’m a classy bitch.
Then when I left, I found out that Juanita had the fucking best reading of her life. She was laughing at me, too. And I was the one profiled because I was carrying my lazy friend’s Neiman Marcus bag. What a whore. All Juanita wanted to do was read me her reading of her perfect life.
So I burst into tears because my fucking BFF was telling me how this was all going to come true. This is the hoe who didn’t believe in psychics an hour ago. What a hypocrite. There I was crying in Paper Source on M street and she didn’t even get me a “get well” card for my curse. It’s not like chlamydia. I can’t just take an antibiotic and get “all better.”
I finally got the brilliant idea to look up yelp reviews of the psychic because Juanita was going on and on about how she is going to travel in March because Monica told her so. Well guess what? I am not the first one she cursed. The scammer profiled us and many others. Even telling someone that their curse was as bad as stage four cancer. News alert: Monica’s in DC are trashy low-lifes who have a reputation for taking advantage of powerful people. My future is just beginning and Monicas will never stand in my way. Thank you, Bill-motherfucking-Clinton.