First Timers

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories.

Who shived you in the neck?

Blogger Profile: The name's Northe.
Been blogging since: September 2004.
View my complete profile here.

Home Angry Time Stories Do People Really Do This?
Do People Really Do This? PDF Print E-mail
User Rating: / 4
PoorBest 
Written by Northe   
Friday, 12 March 2010 07:12

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories. While you're at it, go ahead and Register, approval grants access to exclusive content.

Who among the Angry Time faction has heard of a Fortune Party?  If you have, it better have been passed to you via 3rd hand information. If not, and you were an unsuspecting mark, I dare say you fall into a somewhat forgivable category of peons where a torturous interrogation could possibly absolve you of such a sin. Though you'd have a whale's bladder worth of explaining to do as to why you would be caught in such a trance without asking relevant questions or showing any spine. The last possibility, if you are someone who has attended these carnival acts without being under the influence of some ungodly cocktail of medication, or worse even still, if you are the Lord Fontleroy of Fortune Parties then I'll go ahead and shuttle you myself to the hallway that houses my vast array of character assassination awards hung like trophy bucks along the wall. You, the willing participant, are the kind of asshole that I loathe. It is people like you who are active, yet make no mistake, failing and disgraceful participants in those pyramid scheme companies.. oh, sorry.. I meant to say, "Multi-Level Marketing Agencies" are you not? Damn right you are. You're one of those idiots for sure.. or mayhaps I go too far. Maybe you're so stinkin' steadfast that you are merely on the fringe of being that colossal failure I describe and are only currently getting sucked in to that hype vacuum. Yeah, you're a real oak.. I can see you now, clutching your pearls with wide eyes and the false hope that this new found "Plan B" is the answer to your broken and hopeless life.  Wise up, toadstool, your scam company that rewards people for literally buying in to their bullshit rather than paying out for moving product is asinine. Give the situation some thought, you simpleton! By Greyskull, those god forsaken companies and your Fortune Parties are the bane of my existence and participating in either only guarantees that you will one day bathe in the white hot glow of my wrath.

Back to the matter at hand, the Fortune Party. Is this shit real? Are people this bored and/or desperate to feel some sort of ripple through their worthless souls?  Seriously, if you want to move the needle and you've stooped this low you are officially on the same level as Female Boss, the Plastics and the Romans. I don't think I need to go into how disgraceful this position in life's grand scheme of things is, but you'd probably rank between a mite that begs to suckle just a bit of moisture from a dung beetle's prized possession and a malformed bacteria that eats vajeen fungus. For those that are still scratching their oily scalps, a Fortune Party is a gathering of like-minded jackholes that bring a lying fake, aka a psychic, to their inner circle and gives said piece of shit the opportunity to tell them that their futures will be everything they ever wanted and more.

Now, Female Boss finds herself caught within the vortex of suckers that are invited to the party and breaks off a little bit of what's banging around in that dusty kernel of stone between her ears to yours truly, "At first I was so excited about this Fortune Party! Now I am not sure I want to go because the Fortune Teller is charging for her services!"

Oh, did I forget to mention that by being invited I really meant to say, pay to attend a party thrown by a fellow Plastic? Is the previous condemnation of this lunacy I just went on making sense now? How does someone even grapple with the concept of shelling out honest dough to be tickled to sleep by the made-up ramblings of a professional con artist.. at a social event!? Even if they are right, say even half right, you're willing to pay the vagabond to tell you what is going to happen no matter what since its your destiny either fuckin way? Really? How much money do you have and how come you aren't sharing it with me? Riddle me this, you sad sack, what the fuck happened to friendly conversation amongst peers? What about getting the local team of chumlies together for some old-fashioned rough housing and a game of jacks? Maybe some toast points with peanut butter and honey? Anyone? Is society that vapid that everything has become a gimmick? Can I write an entire paragraph based solely on asking questions!?

The kicker is that this obvious and undeniable line of thinking opposing the dastardly idea never even crossed her mind. In fact, quite the contrary. A decent protest to the blatant money grab wasn't even in the vicinity of what topped Female Boss' Stay the Fuck Away From the Fortune Party List. Instead, we find her at odds with this:

"I don't know, Northe. I really want to go. Like, really bad."

"So what's the problem then?" I beg, looking for an iota of intelligence.

"I don't want my fortune told! It scares the hell out of me!"

Well, of course it does!! Voodoo and garlic necklaces for this one. This is hardly a shock coming from the reanimated mound of silly putty with some semblance of a soul staring at me from behind her computer monitor. I know this may come as a shock to you all, but Female Boss' desperate attempt to connect with me and give her any feedback at all has only succeeded in angering me. Hoping that this would be the end of it, I keep my fighting knives sheathed and sit still. Before long, my faith in poor Female Boss is quickly stamped out by my daily visitor, Disappointment, who predictably nudges this clown on further..

"Maybe I'll just go, I could use a good thrill."

Easy there, maniac! Wouldn't want to go from Don Knotts to Evil Knievel so quickly!! Oh, what's the point? Without driving the bus off into the tirade canyon for the 20th time this post, I'll just say that Female Boss ended up attending the shindig. Mmhmm.. she and 18 other people, not including the Plastic host couple, each paid $120 at the door to be wow'd by a trio of ladies "dressed like belly dancers".. one hundred and twenty dollars and eighteen people!!  Are you shitting me!?  Sounds to me like a great rake for a one night sham acted out by a few grifters. What'd she find out? Why hail friends, come gather round while I regurgitate the tale weaved by the fortune teller. Get this, year's end Female Boss was going to have her *ahem* art *burp* not only displayed, but then bought and actually written about in a local art magazine by the end of the year. Local art magazine!?  What does that even mean!? I couldn't believe the charlatan, more cunning than I imagined, was brazen enough to deal out the coup de grâce without even blinking. Then again, how I can blame her? Serving up such a tasty dish to vulnerable, weak-minded prey would be as easy to me as pitchforking ol' Dunkirt right in the belly.

Ah yes, by the way, before I end this it may interest you to know that this all took place at the end of September. Just enough time for that whole window of opportunity, to track someone down and declare vendetta on them for dishonoring you with lies and deceit, to close once comeuppence has revealed its cruel self. What's that? Cmon.. do I really need to dignify the "soothsaying" with the frown inducing reality that never was? Ok, good, I thought not. Pigeons with money never cease to amaze me.. what recession, right?