The Challenges of Guiding Spirits That Aren’t Vodka.
Every time I go to Cleveland to visit my old ass parents, they are always entertaining me with their enchanting family stories. “Cammi, your Grandfather cheated on your grandmother with countless women.” My father might say, or, ”Cammi, your Uncle had a second wife and children in Italy he financially supported for his entire life.” and then my mother may chime in with, “Cammi, your Grandfather got married two weeks after your Grandmother died.”
I usually just shake my head and say, “Delightful! Now tell me, what are we having for dinner?”
But, most recently, my mother told me my Great Grandmother was Seminole Indian. “Finally!” I yelled and as she transitioned into talking about a show on the Food Network, I ran right over to the google and asked it how I get in touch with my Spirit Guide.
After a few chants, candle lighting, and some crystal rubbing, I focused, as per the internet’s suggestion, and simply said, “I want to meet my Spirit Guide.” The internet told me not to expect famous people, don’t ask the Spirit Guide stupid questions like, “Will I win the lottery?” and don’t be surprised if your Spirit Guide is demonic.
Moments later she arrived. And she was furious. Like, in a “can’t wait to get out of these tight pants way.”
To be contined…..
What a rave looks like today. If this rave looks boring, it’s because it was.
I may never be able to rave again because of how hard I raved that night.
Yeah. That’s what I said.
At the restaurant bar waiting to be seated the other night, I asked Warren if he wanted me to get sone shrooms. The woman standing next to us overheard me. She looked at me In the eyes in surprise. I said to her, “Yeah, I said shrooms. It’s going to get crazy.” Then she looked away terrified.
Driving down 2nd Avenue with a house.