Best Not To Mess With Ouija


Every paranormal thriller that stars one of these intriguing little boards shows a bunch of unsuspecting teenagers having stupidly acquired one, after being warned not to mess with it, sitting around attempting to speak to the dead.  Before long they are being haunted, demonized, and murdered until the hero or heroine destroys it once and for all … or so they think.

It was the summer of 1999 and we were living on Long Island.  My cousin had told us about a friend of his, Mike, whose mother was allegedly a witch.  Mike lived alone with his mom in this creepy old house not unlike the one from  the Amityville horror.  There were rumors that the house was haunted, and that black magic spells were being performed there by Mikes mother and those from her coven, but there was never any real proof.

Mikes mother was away and it was decided that he was going to have a party, and we were all invited. We were told to bring sleeping bags in case people wanted to crash.  My cousin and I couldn’t resist as we had a penchant for creepy houses, and possible hauntings, plus Mike was really fun.

Being intuitive myself, the moment we pulled up to the house I could feel a strange vibe.  It wasn’t particularly evil, it was just strange.  My concerns faded quickly when Mike threw open the front door dressed in a Hawaiian shirt blasting Bob Marley.  You could smell the BBQ in the back and I was starving so any thoughts of ghosts quickly disappeared.

There were only a handful of us who stayed after midnight.  We were all gathered in Mikes living room when Andy, a handsome yet completely clueless young lad had a fantastic idea.

“Hey Mike, let’s go up in the attic and check out your moms voodoo psychic shit.”  Andy would be the first to be killed if this was a movie.

“I don’t know man.  She specifically told us to stay out of there.”

Becca leaned in seductively.  She was a beautiful girl with sun streaked hair and perfect features. She would be killed second for sure, most likely while having sex with Mike.

“Come on.  I want to see.  I’ve heard so much about this place.”

Becca licked Mikes ear and before we knew it, we were in the attic.  There were so many amazing things to see; crystal balls, tarot decks, candles of all colors, books, and of course a very old Ouija board.  Now when I say Ouija Board I am not talking about the board game.  This thing was carved out of wood and the planchette was made of pure crystal.  This board did not speak of fine family fun as in a hasbro game, this thing meant business.

Becca (of course) grabbed it. “Look at this! Oh my god we have to do this.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” I piped up.  Becca stem rolled me with her eyes.  In an ironic plot twist, if looks could kill, I’d be dead.

“Mikey. Can we please try this?”

Mike hesitated. “I don’t know…” Another ear lick followed and we were suddenly downstairs sitting around the board.

The only light we could see was from the moon and the many candles Andy and my cousin had lit.  Mike and my cousin put their hands on the planchette.  Becca began.

“Are there any spirits in this house that wish to speak with us?”

“We probably should protect ourselves with white light before we do that.” I casually mentioned.

I was just resurrected and killed again by Becca.  “It’s your soul babe.” I said defensively.

“Shut it.” came the response

Slowly the planchette began moving across the board. First a G.  Then an E.  Followed by and T.  Next came an O.  Then a U, and finally a T.

Becca was writing down the words as Mike and my cousin moved the planchette.  “I can’t quite make it out.”

“It says get out. ” I chimed in.

“Will you please shut up.” Becca spat at me.

“Holy shit!” screamed Mike.  The board was going back and forth, ‘ M A M A G A G A.’

“Mama Gaga” yelled my cousin as their fingers raced along the board.  I thought for a moment they were just messing with us until I saw the look on their faces.

“Fuck this thing.” screamed Mike and he flung the planchette.  Mike grabbed the board and without thinking, broke it clean in half.  He grabbed both pieces, opened the front door, and chucked it out.  Mike would be the hero that returns for the sequel.

We sat in an uneasy silence. “Let’s just go to bed.” Mike said.  “I’ve had enough of this shit.”

We blew out the candles, grabbed our sleeping bags and tried to forget what had just happened.  Before any of us could really get comfortable, the doorbell rang.

“Who the fuck could that be?” said Andy.

“Don’t open the door.” I said.  Everyone rolled their eyes at me.  I see my self as the voice of reason, they see me as the buzz kill.  There really is nothing common about sense.



Mike threw open the door with a baseball bat in hand.  No one was there.  He looked left, then right.  Nothing.  Then he looked down.  There, sitting at his feet was the Ouija Board… and it was completely put back together.

We don’t know what ever became of that board, because we didn’t stick around to find out.   I grabbed all my shit and ran out of the house dragging my cousin with me.  You see, I would have been the girl who lived in the movie, not because I am particularly beautiful or special but because I am smart enough to know that when a spirit tells you to “Get Out” … you get the fuck out.

Keep Seeking,









Reshuffle. Reshuffle. Reshuffle



Tarot and Candle.jpg

It is the plight of every great psychic when they are giving a reading, to have the person on the receiving end become less than thrilled with the outcome.  After all, most people aren’t looking for the truth, they are waiting to be told what they want to hear.

My dear friend Bertha had asked me to take her to see a very good psychic in the Bronx who we will call “Bella.”  Now I had gone to Bella many times and she was as good as they come.  She was rough around the edges, and highly paranoid but other than that, she was a fantastic reader.

I went first and Bertha waited outside in the lobby.  Bella didn’t want to cross energies.  After my reading Bertha went in for hers.  I paced the lobby waiting for her and a half hour later she emerged, less than enamored.

“How was it?”  I asked

“She’s the worst.” Was the reply.

“Well what did she tell you?”

Bertha looked like she had sucked down and enourmous bag of sour patch kids.  Her whole face was puckered in such a way I thought it might cave into her head.

“She said that Rony and I are not going to make it.”

I had heard very little about this Rony character.  All I knew was that Bertha and Rony had been hooking up for the last three months.  I had never met him in person as he liked to keep himself away from her friends.  While I found this a bit odd, I just tossed it up to each is own and went about my way.

Bertha was so perturbed at this idea she turned to me and sharply said, “I want you to read my cards.”

I almost choked.  “What?”

“You can read cards.  You tell me what I know in my heart to be true.”

Against my better judgement I went home and obliged my slowly psychcotic turning friend.

I shuffled, she picked her cards and we went into the reading.  The minute I saw the tarot cards I gasped.   The King of Wands and The Page of Cups were followed by the Devil, the Lovers and finally the Three of Swords.  Underneath the King of Wands was the Queen of Wands.

“Bertha.  Is Rony married?! I exclaimed in a non-existant attempt at holding back.

Bertha turned beet red.  “Is that what the cards are saying?  He’s still with that bitch.”

“Bertha, that bitch is his wife and he’s not leaving her.  He’s not going to end it with her.”

“Reshuffle.” she spat

At first I was a little taken aback at her brazen demand.  But ever the empath, I decided to appease my slowly unhinging friend.  I reshuffled and laid the cards out.

“Same outcome Bertha.”  I said.  As a matter of fact, almost all the same cards appeared.”

Bertha slammed her fist into my favorite throw pillow sending the beads flying.  Perhaps we should’ve discussed her anger issues.  I thought it best not to bring it up.

“Reshuffle.” She said.

“Bertha.  The outcome is going to be the same…”

“Just do it.”

I did.  Four more times with no change to the outcome.  It was as if the cards were becoming more impatient with her by the minute.  When the Ten of Swords appeared followed by the Three of Swords and lastly the Devil, I’d had enough.

“My cards are off the clock. They’ve given you you’re answer.  Do what you want with the information.  My fingers are raw from shuffling.”

Bertha pushed the cards off the bed in the most petulant of ways and huffed her way out of my apartment.  She slammed the door so hard my Marilyn paintings went crashing to the ground.

It would be four months before she would speak to me again.  And this was only after Ms. Bertha was dropped by her married lover who incidentally had a restraining order against her.  Ms. Bertha learned the hard way that sometimes in life, you just cannot reshuffle.


Keep Seeking,




The Liar, the Bitch and the BJ: Part II


“He’s lying,” Said Scarlett without so much as a pause.  “Whatever line of crap he is giving you … it is all a lie.”

It had been two days since my boyfriend Matt came back from LA with a little secret that with the help of my psychic Scarlet and my best friend was being slowly revealed.

I looked at the number written on my notepad.  Brigit.  I could call her and find out what really happened. She would tell me right?  After all, we gals are supposed to stick together.

I immediately called Stephie. ” What do you think? Should I just call this slut puppy and  see if she will tell me the truth?”

Ever the feminist Stephie replied, “Well don’t call her a slut.  WE don’t know that she’s actually a slut. She might not have known that Matt had a girlfriend.  He’s very good at lying, he probably lied to her too.”

I thought about it for a moment.  It was true.  There was no reason to throw this girl under the bus, after all she might be a victim too.

Stephie arrived at my apartment an hour later.  We dialed the phone making sure to  keep it on speaker.

“Hello” came a familiar voice.

“Hi. This is Matt’s girlfriend. It appears you might have spent some quality time with him the past weekend.”

Silence. Then:

“I might have met him.  I meet a lot of people in my line of work.”

I felt the sarcasm rising in my throat but cut myself off right before the snark left my lips.

“Might have met him?  I know you met, I saw of picture of the two of you at the club.”

Silence again. “I can’t believe this.  He… I can’t believe this.”

“So it’s true?  You hooked up with him?”

“No it’s not true.” she retorted.

Stephie crinkled her nose.

I admit I was a bit taken aback.  Typically when I called some chic that Matt hooked up with they were all too willing to apologize and admit it.  Was it possible that this chic was just a female version of Matt?

“Listen, I’m sure if I were you, I’d be embarrassed right now but woman to woman, I just want to know the truth.”

I thought for a moment that Brigit might have had some compassion for me seeing that she is a woman too.  She hadn’t known he was taken.  She might have even thought that he was going to have a long distance relationship with her.  Sure they just met for 24 hours but stranger things have happened.

“Look.  If your boyfriend is cheating on you, that’s not my problem, it’s yours. ”

I held the phone away from my face to avoid blowing it up with my energetic rage.

“So you knew about me.”

“He told me twice he had a girlfriend but like I said, we didn’t hook up.”  She was becoming suddenly very brazen.

“Well he told me you did.” I lied.  “So why would he say that if it wasn’t true.”

“Well if he told you then why are you calling me?” was the response.

Touché, I thought. Before I could react, Stephie had grabbed the phone “You stupid slut!  Where are your morals? This must just be another day in your life when some random guy with a girlfriend uses your mouth as a toilet bowl.”

With that I grabbed the phone and hung it up.

“Well.  Now I know it’s true.”

“I cannot believe that girl.  She is what is wrong with women.  Women do not stick together, they tear each other apart.  If she would have told Matt to go fuck himself then she would be…”

“Steph.  Who cares.  She is one on a long list of many.  I know you are hoping that somehow you can led the charge on the “I am Woman” movement but you might be in for a bigger fight then you anticipate.”

Stephie nodded her head.

“Besides.  We have a bigger fish to fry.”

I text Matt that he should not come home because I was afraid I couldn’t be responsible for what I might do to him.  He of course arrived a half hour later.

“I spoke to Brigit.”

Matt had that incredulous look on his face that always overcomes me with a feeling of wanting to slap him.

“I did not hook up with that girl.”

“She said you did.”

“She wouldn’t say that.”

Wow were these two meant for each other, I thought.

“Why not?”

“Why would some girl tell you she hooked up with your boyfriend?”

“I think the real question is why would my boyfriend hook up with some random girl?”

“You know what, you’re crazy.” he spat at me.

There it was … the “you’re crazy” line.  The line that admits guilt for all sociopaths and narcissists almost instantaneously.  Rest assured young ones when you hear that line, it’s game over and you have won.

Matt screamed at the top of his lungs in hopes that the volume would somehow trigger a reaction in my brain proving him innocent once and for all.

But all I kept hearing  was Scarlet. “He’s lying.” Whatever line of crap he’s giving you is just a lie.”

I threw a vase at Matt and chased him out of my apartment with a broom.  It would be another whole two months before Matt would admit to what happened out in LA.  By that time we were already broken up as there would be one more incident that would finally cause me to snap. And as with all things in my world of having to know, there was one very in tune psychic who would be advising this junkie on how exactly to rid myself of the trash once and for all.

To See or Not to See … What Is Your Question?

Adobe Spark (1)

I paced the large windows of my Upper East Side Apartment.  God bless NYC the city that never sleeps, otherwise I might be feeling insecure about my three a.m. pacing.

Where is he? I thought.

I had been living with my boyfriend Matt for the last year and he had developed this very interesting habit of having multiple “guys nights” beginning on Thursday and ending somewhere in the wee hours of Sunday morning.  Trying not to be the over controlling psychotic girlfriend who doesn’t “trust” her boyfriend I didn’t protest. I couldn’t let Matt see me as insecure.  I was the cool girlfriend remember? No, rather than be categorized as crazy,  I did what I do best…called a psychic.

“Welcome to Keen, your personal advisor.  Please hold while we contact the person you’ve selected.  This may take a minute so please be patient.”

Within  seconds I was connected.

“Hi this is Angela, what is your question?” said a melodic voice on the other end of the phone.

I wasted no time and got right to it.  “My boyfriend has been gone all night… since 6pm and isn’t answering my calls.  Is he cheating on me?”

“What is his name?”

“Matt.” I replied.

“Hang on a second.”  I could hear the shuffling of the cards.  I kept wanting her to say no, that he was hopelessly devoted to me but that somehow his phone died and he was lost, or he had been kidnapped and having his kidneys stolen, or quite possibly dead …  anything but cheating.  But my heart knew better.

“Okay.  Well I do see him with someone.  A female. dark hair.”

My heart stopped.

“Is he sleeping with her?”

“Sleeping is not the word I would use here.  I would say he is or has been intimate with her, yes.  I’m sorry sweetie.

“Where is he? Can you see him?”

“I do see him. It looks like they’re in an apartment of sorts, maybe a hotel room or a youth hostel. Something like that.”

I could feel my heart beating through my chest.

She continued. “Ya know this guy just isn’t really the one for you.  There is someone much better coming in once you ditch this loser.”

“Yes I know.  Every psychic, friend, family member, or general human I come in contact with  has told me that.  Do you know what it’s like when every time you walk into a room with your boyfriend people look at you like “Okay who brought the douchebag?”

She laughed. ” Actually yes. I can relate. Look honey,  if that’s not the universe telling ya something, I don’t know what is.”

“I’m just not ready to let go.  I’m not being very strong right now.” I said most pathetically.

“You will be.  One day there will be a straw that breaks the camels back and you will be surprised at how strong you will be.  There will be no turning back.  You will do it and move on.”

I thanked her for the reading and gave her a five star rating.

I stared out the window for a good long time. Finally, I picked up the phone and called my bestie.

“Get your shortest skirt and highest heels.  We’re going downtown.”

As the cab pulled up in front of Marquee, Steph and I could see Matt’s gaggle of friends hanging outside.

“Hey Frankie” Steph yelled as we crossed the street.  You could see the fear in his eyes as they shifted wildly from her to me back to her then to me.

“Where is he?” I growled.

Frankie stuttered making a valiant effort in coming up with a story but alas he just wasn’t a good liar.

“If you don’t tell us right now where he is I’m going to charge you interest on all the money I’ve lent you.” Steph’s green eyes burned with rage.  You do not mess with Steph and money. Ever.

Score! Frankie hung his head in defeat. “Okay but if I tell you, you didn’t hear it from me.”

Of course I didn’t hear from you I thought as this poor unfortunate soul spilled his guts on a manhattan street corner… I have a secret weapon that I’ll never mention to you.

Steph and I pulled up in front of a youth hostel five blocks away from Marquee.  Our timing was almost too perfect as Matt came bouncing out undoubtedly after receiving the warning call from his goons.

As Matt and I locked eyes, mine burning with rage, he began searching the ethers for an explanation.

“Babe. It’s not what it looks like.  I can explain.”

No need I thought as this myopic worm spun a tale worthy of a pulitzer…

Let this be a lesson to you and all your lying cheating friends.  When dealing with matters of the heart, you can’t fuck with a psychic junkie.

The Rule Of Three


The Rule Of Three
Majority Rules

I was terribly late in meeting my bestie, and I am rarely late.  Natural disasters, the apocalypse or impromptu conversations with random strangers on the subway may be the only thing keeping me … that and a tarot reading.  As I burst through the door I barely had enough time to apologize before I was frantically trying to get back on the phone.

“You look like hell.  What happened?” Stephie asked me as I pushed my way past her holding my phone up for service bars.

“Just give me a second.  Damn you AT&T.  I lost service on your street. I have to get back to this lady.”

“What lady?” Steph asked with genuine concern

“I already asked two psychics if Mark was cheating on me, I was talking to the third and we just got cut off.”

“Uh huh.” Stephie stared at me like a disappointed parent.

“Stop looking at me with those judgy eyes.  You’re making me nervous.”

“I’m making you nervous.  You’re acting like a straight up psycho which by the way in case you hadn’t noticed, there is only one vowel difference between psychic and psycho.”  Steph began laughing at her own joke which is why I do so love her.

She got me.  Any play on words will get me to stop immediately in my tracks.  She had successfully distracted my Amygdala from sounding the panic alarm.   I could feel myself calming down…coming to my senses.  Clever girl.

**Side Note**  When choosing best friends in this world always pick ones who are ready, willing and able to call you out on your shit AND who readily accept the same from you.  Any other scenario, the friendship is based on superficial bullshit and should be avoided at all costs.

Stephie gently took the phone from my hand.  I started shaking like a virgin at a prison rodeo. “What is the matter with you?” she repeated.

“It’s the rule of three.”  I explained.  “I need to call three psychics.  After speaking with three, the majority rules.  If two out of three give me a similar answer then I know that is the truth.”

“Sounds like an expensive way to find out if Mark’s cheating on you.”

“It’s the only way.” I barked back

“If you have to ask if someone is cheating wouldn’t you think your intuition is answering  that question for you?”

This is what happens when your best friend is so ridiculously smart, everything she says makes sense making you look even more hysterically insane.

“True.” I said clearly defeated.

Stephie took pity on me and handed me the phone.  I immediately bounced back from the dead.

“Thank you!!!”  My thumbs moved at breakneck speed.  Within seconds I heard that robotic voice I so look forward to.

“Thank you for calling Keen, your personal advisor. Please hold while we try to connect to the person you’ve selected.  This may take a minute so please be patient…”

I waited for the beep and suddenly I was on the phone with number three.  After ten minutes of pure psychotic bliss I had my answer.

“Well?” said Stephie

“That lying, stinking, cheating snake!” I screamed as I threw my phone across the room.

Majority had ruled.