So, I’m looking for a job. We’ve had this conversation. It’s miserable, I’m miserable, we’re all miserable. I’ve tried being myself, a la ex-co-blogger Eddie (“I wore a see-through camisole and talked about Kreayshawn! They’re giving me a raise!”), I tried not being myself, I’ve tried long resumes, I’ve tried short resumes, I’ve tried bursting into tears in a temp agency – zip.
So, I tried magic.
Originally, Meg and I had a bigger idea. We were going to try to break our bad luck with a self-designed voodoo ritual, but after a short heart-to-heart about Meg’s condo board (“I’m on thin ice after Evie as it is, and if they find all that blood in the drain…”) we decided to lowball it and order a prefab spell from the internet.
St. Expedite is the patron of doing things quickly, which explains why we’ve never met. He likes red things and, apparently, candles with herbs sprinkled in the wax.
Before performing a spell, it’s considered wise to “cast a circle” of protection around yourself. According to wiccanonline.com (or similar), this is done by:
- Giving the room a good cleansing smudge with sage. We did this by lighting sage incense and walking around the room chanting “Smudging… smudging…smudging…”
- Getting in the north corner of the room, facing north, bowing, and saying “I cast this circle in the name of love and light, and ask that it protect me from all malevolent and unwanted spirits.”
- Repeating the bow and love-and-light bit while facing east, south, and west.
- Pointing at the earth and turning around three times, counterclockwise (if you do it backward the dead will absolutely rise)
- Adding any other words you feel appropriate. I elected to add the spell Angela Lansbury used in Bedknobs and Broomsticks to make suits of armor fight the Nazis: “Treguna mekoides tricorum satis dee!”
Either from Hocus Pocus or an episode of Are You Afraid of the Dark? I have the idea that you’re also supposed to also make an actual circle of actual salt. Meg offered me my choice of garlic salt or sea salt in a grinder. I chose the grinder because I like the sound it makes.
Now that we were protected, we were ready to do the spell. It had an odd, Oprah vibe: we had to visualize what we wanted and then write it down in detail, including desired starting salary. Essentially, it was a cover letter to the beyond. I don’t actually know what rules govern this situation, so in case it falls under the birthday-wish rules, I won’t say exactly what I wrote. I bet you can guess – I relied heavily on the phrase “shit, anything at this point.”
Well, we visualized and we wrote, then lit the candle and put it on top of our papers. The spell goes like this:
"St. Expedite, I call upon you,
I ask for your powerful support.
You know what is necesary and what is urgently needed.
Please help me remedy economic problems.
That I may obtain ufficient money for necessities.
Please help me find gainful employment very soon,
so that this heavy burden of concern
will be lifted from my heart
and I will soon be able to provide
for those whom God has entrusted to my care.
By your grace, Blesed Saint"
(NOW STATE YOUR OWN PETITION)
When you're done Say:
"Expedite now what I ask of you.
Expedite now what I want of you.
Do this for me, Saint Expedite,
And when it is accomplished,
I will as rapidly reply for my part
With an offering to you.
So Mote It Be! Blesed Be!"
Afterward, I banged my fist on the table to make it official, then poured some of the melted wax on my paper. It seemed like the magic thing to do. The paper with the spell on it has a very strict warning at the bottom – apparently St. Expedite is touchy, and if he does you a favor and you don’t give a thanksgiving offering, he’ll pull the whole thing down around your ears. So be warned.
We already had candles lit and the circle laid, so we decided to have a séance. That previous sentence says more about my life than I wish it did.
The internet was less helpful than usual on séances. It seems like the kind of thing that would have a specific, involved ritual around it, but no: you just light a candle, hold hands, and wait for the ghosts. You’re supposed to give them an easy way to contact you: set out a glass of water to jiggle a la Jurassic Park, or just ask them to tap. (With what?) We had a hard time choosing someone to contact. I wanted to try to contact my recently deceased grandfather, but somehow waking him up so I could blog about it seemed disrespectful, so we settled on Nancy Mitford, the not-incredibly-famous British humorist I wrote my graduate thesis on. She wasn’t home, or whatever, so we moved on to Gerald Ford – I thought it might help to try someone with a tie to the Washington area. Well, Gerald apparently only contacts registered Republicans, despite our argument that after the Reagan realignment it’s really a different party than he remembers, and Betty wasn’t communicative either. So we did what you’d expect us to do and went after Bea Arthur. So much for not being predictable.
Meg: Bea? Calling Bea Arthur. Paging Beatrice Arthur.
Me: Bernice? Bernice Frankel? We know your birth name! We’re true fans!
Meg: Bea, if you’re listening, we want to thank you for being a friend.
Me: “Lady Godiva was a freedom rider, she didn’t care if…”
Meg: Shut up, or we won’t hear if she taps.
Me: Bernice?
Meg: We’d appreciate a quick hello, we know you’re probably busy with Estelle and Rue…
Tap.
Me: RUE?!
Meg: Did you see that we dedicated our third book to you?
Rue: Tap.
Me: Were you pleased:
[Long pause]
Rue (playfully): Tap.
Meg: We weren’t kidding! We cherished you!
Me: We still do!
Meg: Feel free to drop back in anytime.
Me: We’ll make cheesecake! Presumably you can enjoy the smell, or something!
This is a dramatization, but I. Swear. To. God. We heard three distinct taps in answer to our questions. Either we contacted Rue McClanahan from beyond the grave or the air conditioner was on. I know what I’ve chosen to believe.
Also: Rue McClanahan can back from the grave to acknowledge that we dedicated a book to her before the book was released. Garry Shandling has had since November to acknowledge that Brainwashing was dedicated to him, and I mailed him a free copy. AND HE’S ALIVE.
All this happened Friday night. Today, Monday:
- Got an ACTUAL JOB INTERVIEW for an ACTUAL JOB in ACTUAL NEW ORLEANS. 99% sure it’s not a prank.
- Got called about working a polling station during the primaries, which will allow me to fulfill my lifelong dream of looking a first-time voter dead in the eye and saying “there is a wrong answer – you know that, right?” AND is a day’s work
- Got the author copies of It Seemed Like A Good Idea…, which means Amazon will be shipping soon. It has an attractive cover and is filled to the BRIM with laughs. You should buy two copies and keep one in your panic room, just in case.
- Got a free banana from the corner bodega, just because it was going bad!
St. Expedite and Rue McClanahan – fixing my terrible life for over three days.
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