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Gypsy Lurv Letters

October 15, 2007

Lurv Letters

Dear Perv,
While I’m sure that leaning forward, putting my hands on my knees, and lifting my shoulders is an EXCELLENT way to stretch my back, there is no way in hell I’m doing it in a corset.  Especially not with you sitting there staring at me.

No Lurv,
The Gypsy

Dear Pervs in General,
I reserve the right to refuse to give you a palm reading if I think you’re only giving me money so I’ll hold your hand.  Whoops, sorry, I have completely lost the ability to do palm readings!  I’m sure my grandmother would be perfectly happy to accommodate you, though.

Lurv,
The Gypsy

Dear Customers,
You’re at a renaissance festival.  It’s set in England.  We, as the participants of this festival, are required to refer to all of the money as “pounds.”  Get it?  It’s the English money.  It’s all a part of that whole “renaissance mood” you paid $20 to experience.  Quit being stupid about it.  I promise, there is no crack about the damned money thing that I haven’t already heard.  There is no ‘exchange rate’ here, I don’t take slabs of fat off of your tubby butt, and I can crank out a loud and personally tailored innuendo about your performance skills faster than you can complete that hip thrust and eyebrow wiggle.

No Lurv,
The Gypsy

Dear Repeat Customers,
So nice to see you again!  Please do not expect me to remember you.  I do anywhere from 20 to 40 readings in a single week-end.  There are 8 week-ends to this faire.  You do the math.  Thank you for coming back to see me, but please understand that I have enough trouble remember customers from an hour ago, let alone customers from a year ago.

Lurv,
The Gypsy

Questions you should never ask a fortuneteller:

Does he really love me?
If you’re not sure, why are you with him?

Is he my soul mate?
If you have to ask, the answer is probably no.

Should I buy a house, a new car, a full wardrobe right after my bankruptcy?
What do I look like, an accountant?  I’m gonna go with NO.

Am I going to die?
Uh…  yes?  Unless you’ve discovered the Holy Grail, I’m gonna go with YES.

When am I going to die?
Someday.  Probably in the next five minutes if you don’t stop bugging me.

Can I get another reading?
Nope.  I flatly refuse to take more money from you, thus adding to my “new washer and dryer” fund.

Is my husband poisoning me?
No shit, she actually asked this.  And we went with “Uh….  Maybe you should see a therapist about that one.”

Is your accent/hair/name/personal history/family history real?
Nope.  It’s all a figment of your imagination.  You’re at a renaissance festival.  Quit asking the actors to drop the façade.  There are rumors going around that management is watching to be sure that everyone is playing up the part.  Some of those rumors include ‘mystery shoppers’ who are trying to get people to drop character (which is really more of a ‘workplace suck’).  I really don’t want to be one of the ones who gets caught out because you’re too much of a jerk to play along.

For the record:  It’s all fake.  We call it ‘acting.’

An actual sucky customer:

So this kid comes in with his mom.  Kiddo wants a palm reading.  Fine.  As I’m putting away the cards from the previous reading, he coughs into his right hand.  Ugh.  This isn’t going to go well.  Mommy’s precious little boy doesn’t pay a whole lot of attention to me during the reading, but whatever.  Half the time it’s more for the parent’s benefit anyways.  You can’t exactly tell a kid that the line on his hand means he’s ADHD and expect a coherent response.  Lots of really young kid readings are the parent looking for some insight into their kid’s heads.  Either that or they’re too cheap for an adult reading but still want the thrill of seeing the fortune teller.  Anyways.  We get through the reading, and as we’re doing the wrap up, the kid sticks out his lip, and proceeds to run his hand down it.  EWWWWW.  KID SPIT.  ON MY HANDS.  I sent them away as quickly as possible, and then ran off to wash my hands.  Geez, lady, can’t you teach your kid about germs or something?  YUCK.

Hand sanitizer is my friend.

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