Via National Geographic

So in the aftermath of the truly staggeringly awful earthquake in Haiti*, Dr. Ding would like to share with you a list of things that also suck wrinkly donkey balls at 500+ psi.  Why?  Because I haven’t had coffee or Tab The All-Occasion Beverage in almost 2 weeks, nor red meat, alcohol, butter, cheese, sugar, salt, citrus, or wheat.

I’m still crabby as hell, still mud-brained, still attempting to summon phantasmogorical British monkey butlers to cart my tired ass away from the horrid clouds of flatus that seem to follow me wherever I go.  For awhile last week there I was being chased by a giant all-knowing eyeball, but that seems to have slacked off a litle.

I’m definitely having First World problems.  Deal.

1.  Pat Roberston.  What a tool.  Last I checked, Jesus wasn’t into blaming the victim.

2.  The fact that I can’t think of a more descriptive term than “tool” with which to label Pat Robertson.

3.  Shitty grammar.  The world is definitely getting dumb and dumberer.

4.  Rue McClanahan having a stroke.  Be strong, Rue!  The world needs more sexy, sassy 75 year-olds.

5.  I’m out of ideas already.  Where was I going with this post again?

I think we can all agree: that’s enough.

* Information on how to help:

Yele Haiti: http://www.yele.org/
Red Cross: http://www.redcross.org/
Doctors Without Borders: http://doctorswithoutborders.org/

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Just thought I’d give y’all a little update.  I had reams of wild and woolly dreams last night, none of which I can presently remember clearly, but I’m pretty sure there was a giant sandwich involved in one of them.

Been doing a lot of musing and introspection lately, and let me tell you this; it totally blows donkey balls at 400 psi.  I need to stop asking my patients to do this, it’s totally gnarly.  Anycarbs, I realized last night that my problematic relationship with food probably began at a very young age, when I attended St. Patrick’s Church.  The math went something like so:

GO TO CHURCH + DOUGHNUTS AFTERWARD = ETERNAL SALVATION

Does that sound right to you?  I think I’m missing some kind of metaphysical denominator here, like “NUMBER OF SPRINKLES” or maybe “YOU’RE A GOOD GIRL!”.

Also: there is a poker cue jabbing me rather impertinently in the back of my brains at the moment.  How to fix besides a trip to Dunkin Donuts?  Please advise.

I’m back on the Elimination Diet wagon, all old-timey like.  This is Day Four.  My last coherent memory has to do with chopping raw vegetables and drinking some kind of shake that tasted nothing like a bacon martini.  Nothing.  Like.

The hardest part so far has been withdrawing from caffeine, and it’s only been like 4 hours.  Ok, that’s a lie – I’m drinking some stealthy black tea right now.  Anyway, it sucks because it makes my eyeballs feel very bulgey.  Bulgy.  Bugly.

In preparation for downing 4 to 5 of the aforementioned scrumptious shakes per day in order to cleanse my sinful, dirty innards, I’ve been eating lots of veggies, fruits and legumes, and drinking lots of water.  And farting in three-part harmony.  And dissociating from reality in fun ways.  To wit: this morning I found myself up early and then vacuuming, laundering, dog-walking and inexplicably making beef jerky in a food dehydrator*.  I’m not sure what all this means because I should definitely be working on treatment plan updates instead of engaging in these Ding-inappropriate behaviors, but because I can’t really remember where I left my DSM-IVR I just gotta keep it real.  Thusly.  Bugly.

Why am I putting myself through this kind of recockulous fuckery?  I’m making a list because The Beyoncé and I live across the street from a goddamned Coldstone Creamery and this makes it hard to focus on other things.  No joke.

• I wanna be able to fit my voluptuous calves into supercute magenta ski boots next season.
• My aunt is a breast cancer survivor and reducing my body fat will improve my chances of not getting it.
• Eating more green stuff is good for staving off Alzeheimer’s Disease.
• I want a pair of those fancy 7even jeans in the worst way, and they only go up to a 12.  Bastards.
• My allergy symptoms will get lots better.
• Having more energy and sleeping great is nice.
• My symptoms of PCOS and endometriosis will lessen considerably.
• I want to be able to perform a lot of ninja-style moves on the dancefloor.
• My thyroid function might improve.
• I think gallivanting about town surrounded by a giant green methane cloud is sexy.

I think that’s enough.

Ed. Note: I forgot to include the * thingy.  * means that I actually own a real, 3-D food dehydrator and that I wasn’t referring to something related to the hot winds emanating from my hind end.  Just so we’re clear.

Since it’s the end of a whole decade Dr. Ding has decided to bust a cap in the metaphorical ass of this recent lapse and take AskDrDing in a whole new direction.

Don’t worry, though, y’all…I’ll still be writing about farts aplenty, since I’m going to be restarting my assplosion diet of yore, The Elimination Diet.

As you may remember, we’ve moved back to Denver, where the cost of living is higher and psychologists are a dime-a-dozen, so my caseload is smaller and my net income is lower.  There are all manner of shrinks panhandling on streetcorners for patients, hawking their wares like carnival barkers: “Chakras!  Get yer chakras buffed here!” and “We’ll process your family-of-origin issues for 50% less than the other gal”.  It’s cutthroat.  But it’s okay, because it keeps me sharp as well as grateful for what I got.  Which brings me to my majestic point.

We’re in a recession.  For anyone who has ever spent more than 2 years in grad school, this is pretty much more of same.  I spent ages 22-30 as a very po person in my very own personal recession. How did I survive?

1.  I ate cheap.  I don’t mean I ate Ramen noodles all the time (although my internal organs are now pretty much made of MSG).  I almost always brought my lunch or dinner to school or work.  I bought in bulk whenever possible, used coupons, and rarely bought brand-name anything.  I cooked in large batches and froze what I could.  I didn’t usually buy vending machine food because of the giant markup.  Well, and because I needed those quarters for laundry.

2.  I lived sans student loans for the 1st 3 years.  I didn’t own a credit card until my 3rd year, and even then I only used it for larger purchases like airline tickets, car rentals, and conference registrations.  Unfortunately I forgot to pay it off for like 5 years, but that’s another story.

3.  I walked a lot, even when I could have driven.

4.  Socializing often consisted of inviting friends over to watch TV like X-Files, Millenium, etc.  Sometimes we’d potluck, sometimes someone would cook.  It was very simple but a lot of fun.  We shared our VCR tapes with each other, sort of like a flintstonesey version of Netflix.

5.  My friends and I would do a lot of lowbrow stuff; farmers’ markets, street fairs, garage sales, auctions, country festivals, etc.  We went to local bars to hear bands, rarely to large venues.  Sometimes we’d just wander out to a nearby state park and drive around, admiring the scenery.  We bowled.  We went to the $2 cinema.  We took walks in the old Victorian parts of town.  It was decidedly low-key, and admittedly by some folks’ standards probably a bit boring.  But the point wasn’t to be part of some hip urban scenester thingy, it was to enjoy each others’ company and to experience a break from the strain of research, practicum, exams, jobs.  And to get stinking drunk.

6.  I bought a lot of my furniture used, except for my mattress and box spring.  Dr. Ding does not sleep on dried-up pee.  I went to garage sales and hauled bookcases home in the back of my verysmall Nissan.  I spray-painted ugly crap to make it look like new and spiffy crap.  I draped Xmas lights over lots of stuff.  Worked.

7.  Bartering.  This was pretty informal; help setting up a garage sale for a homemade pizza dinner, or a pair of inline skates for a sewing table.  Sometimes my girlfriends and I would do clothing exchanges, complete w/accessories.  Note: always wear deodorant when attending one of these.  Trust.

8.  For clothes, I shopped the clearance racks almost exclusively, and would time big purchases like winter coats or interview suits for those big semi-annual blowout department store sales.  I bought a lot of my wardrobe  staples at Target and Wal-Mart, basics like t-shirts, turtlenecks, sweats, hose, socks and undies where it didn’t make much difference in terms of quality.  I repaired my own hemlines, buttons, and cuffs.  I was like some kind of goddamned Laura Ingalls Motherfuckin Wilder, I was.

9.  My friends and I would plan our trips and vacations super-carefully.  Since a lot of this was pre-internet, we used AAA and Rand-McNally road atlases to compute lodging, mileage and fuel costs.  We usually tried to overbudget so that there wouldn’t be any surprises.  We bought cheapo package deals to Vegas, went camping, did some 3-day weekends to attend music festivals, ren faires, museum trips, etc.  And we still had fun.

Despite my cheapy cheapenheimer tendencies, there have always been a few things I would gladly pay full price for, even back then.  Feel free to add your own in the comments, because frankly I haven’t blogged in awhile and my fingers are getting tired.

1.  Bras.  Oh sweet GirlJesus™ yes.  I always would try to find good ones at discount joints like Marshalls first, but it never really bothered me to buy these at regular retail.  My brands:  Olga, Victoria’s Secret, Le Mystère, Glamorise. Good support makes even inexpensive or poorly-tailored clothes look good.

2.  Shoes.  Horrid foot problems run in my family.  <– Did you see what I just did there?  So, I spend $$ on shoes in order to forestall the day when I will be wearing velcroed gastropod orthopedic “comfort oxfords”.

3.  Eyeglasses.  Because eyeballs are important.

4.  Perfume.  Because I’m old school like that.

5.  Twice-yearly haircut.  You can’t fake a really good haircut.  I had long hair back then, so I would trim it up and color it myself to keep costs down, but once per semester I’d spring for a professional haircut to prevent me from looking like the Bay City Rollers.

That’s what Dr. Ding gots for ya, as far as surviving this here recession, people.  Until next time, I’ll see ya at Wal-Mart, where I’ll be in the underwear aisle pondering the merits of cotton granny panties.

All bitchery aside, it’s been a swell film fest (and Cthulhucon) and Portland still has great beer. And, apparently, Live Nude Girls on every other street corner.

Just kidding. Dr. Ding loves Pornland bunches.

Have an unspeakable day!

Dr. Ding likes to commemorate the changing of the seasons and whatnot in kind of a late-1990s, pseudo-Wiccan way where we all wear velvet bodice dresses with long unstraightened tresses and heavy square-toed boots.  Because that is what Wicca is all about.  Trust.

I kinda miss my Ren Faire Maiden days, short-lived tho they were.  It was a lot of fun eating such Faire delicacies as giant barbecued turkey legs and Pickle On A Stick while prancing about in fetching Celtic silver jewelry, looking bosomy.

Okay, so my Ren Faire Maiden days were more like one day, but you can totally see where I’m coming from; specificially, a very sacred purple velour space where I burned a lot of cedarwood candles and Night Queen incense while listening to inscrutable semi-witchy music like Loreena McKennit and Stevie Nicks.

What I’m saying is that all this witchy street cred I’ve accrued since reading “To Ride a Silver Broomstick” back in 1995 supremely qualifies* me to wish you a happy Autumnal Equinox.

*If you are at all interested in witchy or feminist theology stuff you should read Sybil Leek’s Diary of a Witch, the later works of Marjia Gimbutas, Shapeshifters: Shaman Women in Contemporary Society by Michele Jamal, and Sisterhood is Powerful, An Anthology of Writings from the Women’s Liberation Movement (edited by Robin Morgan).

E voilà!

In other news: GIANT NIPPLES.