I was still freaked out by Saturday nights Ouija board session when my friend Victoria sheepishly asked if I wanted to go to a seance to watch the professionals get their spirits on. Yeah, of course I do. And maybe someone there would have advice on what the hell I should do with my Ouija board. Destroy it? Or is that bad juju? Temporarily, its being stored it in the crawl space in our basement for lack of a better idea.
Yesterday was a cold, dreary day here. Perfect weather for navy bean and kale soup from Whole Foods in the afternoon and conjuring up the dead in the evening.
Victoria picked me up and we were on our way, we were right on time, until we missed the turn. What were we thinking? That we mere mortals were in control? No. The spirits had a plan. Clearly, they wanted us to know there were hidden apartment buildings you can't see across from Marshall's until you turn in. I'm sure there's significance in this. I'm just too small minded to see what it means in the bigger plan. Yet.
Miraculously, or serendipitously, whatever, we arrived just in time before the doors closed. To a hot room jam packed with people. Thank god we weren't doing Bikram yoga cause someone would've gotten elbowed. We had a seat and the medium began. Two things became very clear right away: 1. She was a medium range medium, at best. And. 2. I shouldn't have eaten that navy bean soup. Because now my gut was bubbling with the worst gas I've ever had. Not only was it extremely painful, it rumbled loudly and sounded like a spirit was stuck in my intestines and screeching and wailing to get out.
So I did the only thing I could do. Sucked in my stomach muscles whenever I felt the gas in an effort to muffle the sounds and then roll it down to the lower abs when the gas moved, like a belly dance roll. Until it moved down to the sphincter and I clenched my ass with all my might. Praying to god it didn't reek the way it wrenched.
While I was otherwise occupied, we'd already been visited by Steve McQueen, who apparently liked old cars and told his sister she had a pebble in her purse. Who the fuck doesn't have a pebble in their purse? And a photo? Wow, no one has that! And really? That's your message from beyond? "Hey there! It's me, your long dead brother. By the way, there's a pebble in your purse."
Then there's "that" lady who's a total spirit whore who won't shut up with her dead people commentary and how everything relates to her. She was visited by her dead fiance and someone else, by that point, it didn't even matter. She'd felt their presence in the room she claimed.
So, since I'm fucking dying of gas pains, I try my own little internal spiritual test. Mom, if you're here, give me a sign by relieving my gas pains. But don't make me fart a horrendously loud stinking fart. Thank you. Unless I'm supposed to say amen. I'm not sure. Fill in the appropriate salutation here. And. Absolutely nothing happened. Unequivocal proof that this whole seance thing was a sham. But forget hot yoga, I did get an incredible ab and ass workout. So it wasn't all a wash.
Although I should have just let it rip while announcing, "Listen, I think Steve McQueef is speaking through me!"
We left completely underwhelmed. Victoria confirmed it sounded like I had a demon in my gut and I insisted she drop me at the end of my driveway, so I could let it all out on the long walk up. Of course that's not what happened. Oh, I farted all the way up, but I wasn't done yet. And when I started to tell Craig the story, I let out some more evil spirits mid conversation.
Then, I was laughing, farting and there's a slight possibility I was also sharting. But, I won't confirm that.
The thing is, I still don't know what the hell to do with my Ouija board! Maybe I should skip the middle medium person and consult with it directly. What I do know for a fact is I shouldn't eat any beans today.