Too Often Punched by an Angel: Money. Sex. Drugs. Death.

What it do, homiez?
The title of this post has to do with the four topics psychotherapists and counselors least like discussing with their patients/clients, yet which are often the sources of a whole rickety raft of emotional pain and behavioral discombobulation. Many mental health practitioners tend to avoid these like the plague.
Not Dr. Ding.
I like to just wade right in, once I’ve got a little rapport going. Some of my best conversational gambits have been:
“Uh, hey, just how much are you liking those two Vicodin 7.5/750s you’re taking every four hours?”
“Ever declared bankruptcy? How good are you at addition and subtraction?”
“Just how horny are you?” or “Exactly how unsatisfying is your sex life?”
and
“Anybody up and died on you lately?”.
I know, I know, it sounds god-awful and you now see me as an insensitive, boorish blah blah blah blah. But, on the upside, driving the mack truck of potentially embarrassing interrogatives gets them over with, and asking them crack-off-the-bat like this tends to make any following questions seem incredibly non-threatening, tame, easy-to-answer, et cetera. I also like to think that being irreverent right up front tends to free up folks to just be who they are with me, and to get to that kind of level of emotional honesty that makes for good psychotherapy progress (eventually).
Dr. Ding does not advocate using these openers willy-nilly, but she does think it very droll to entertain the notion that perhaps the world would be a bit better place if we could talk about all these things with using a frigging shitload of euphemisms and denial, a la “My child would never have premarital relations or consider abusing substances!” Jeebus. Blow out the gaslights and switch to electric. Or: “S/he passed away.” Why not just say they were punched by an angel instead? I love it when people say money’s a little tight right now when the truth is more like “I was seeing a very special lady and spent all my money taking her out for ramantic dinners hired a hooker and did blow off her right asscheek all night.”
It’s good to ask direct questions, but only if you can handle the responses and not run away like a little Victorian girly-mon, pigtails a-flying, shrieking into the night.
Not that Dr. Ding has never done that, particularly not very early in her career, say, circa June 1, 1993 while wearing a large bow in her hair and sporting a long pink floral dress with white tights. Oh never.
| Etsy: QueenBodacious |
Funny Monkey for Your Bloggy Enjoyment
I’m just purely out of psychological wisdom today, so here’s a picture of a cutely bewildered baby monkey for you.

Enjoy!
| Etsy: QueenBodacious |
Touched By A Robot
Sigh. Dr. Ding is at this very moment awaiting her favorite automobile diagnostician in the entire world to return with a car battery for The Precious. Swamp heat is hard on vehicles, and The Precious wouldn’t turn over this morning. So I’ve been waiting here, semi-patiently all day. Luckily, I’ve been home to sign for some long-anticipated packages. I even cleaned up the kitchen. I have also done laundry and organized my bathroom (the beyonce has his own, which is part of the secret of our success as a couple). And yet I grow restless.
You may find this abhorrent, but Dr. Ding LOATHES housework. The only thing worth doing within the domestic domain, in my estimation, is laundry. That’s it. Everything else is just a huge time-waster. I keep trying to convince the beyonce that we must needs hire a parlor maid, or at the very least a scullery maid, but he won’t hear of it, the dastardly despoiler that he is.
I think perhaps we could meet in the middle by constructing a steampunk robot who answers to the name of Jeeves. Jeeves’ suprahuman efforts around the house would leave the beyonce and I free to pursue our mutual vision of world domination, 1950s Tiki style. We’re like SO behind on that project, I can’t even begin to tell you.

| Etsy: QueenBodacious |
I’m a lil’ pisst at Owen Wilson
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By now everyone has doubtless gawked at all the Owen Wilson scuttlebutt about his alleged drug overdose/suicide attempt. Dr. Ding just wants it to be on the record that Owen Wilson was fucking brilliant in The Life Aquatic, by turns angelic, fallible, heroic, horny, and tragic; no easy feat to pull off as an actor. Equally awesome in The Royal Tenenbaums. I loved him in the movies he did with Jackie Chan. His peformances in Zoolander and Starsky & Hutch still makes me giggle, despite having seen each four times. He was even memorable in that stupid piece-of-shit remake they did of The Haunting of Hill House. I’m sure he’s done other movies in which he was terrific, like the Wedding Crashers, but the aforememntioned are the only ones Dr. Ding has actually taken time out of her thrill-a-minute life to see.
But back to my main point, which is that although I adore Owen Wilson as an actor I am really fucking pissed that he, Owen Wilson The Person, apparently tried to off himself or O.D. or whatthefuckever. Because the soul-body connection being what it is, if Owen Wilson The Person steps on a rainbow, it must necessarily follow that so too does Owen Wilson The Actor. And if this happens, I am without just that much less hilarity, aw-shucks inanity, cuteness, and brilliantly sardonic acting in my life, and frankly, dear readers, that would fucking blow.
It would fucking blow gigantic gelatinous chunks of vile, Chunky Sirloin Burger, Linda-Blair-Pea-Soup chunky-assed vomit.
Owen Wilson, I have revealed my true feelings here. I don’t feel particularly sorry for you or worried, I just want you to know that if you indeed had died I would have been goddamned upset about it. Please take all the time you need to get well, and please be careful and more loving with your life from here on out. Or what, you may ask? Or the world shall shudder ‘neath the hellfire of Dingariffic grumpiness sure to be rained down upon it should you pass from this realm before Fate has decreed it so, thus depriving Dr. Ding of her rightful future merriment in and appreciation of your many talents.
Although I firmly believe that the working-through of grief is ultimately what heals us from most of life’s maladies, I have absolutely zero desire at this time to experience it in regards to Owen Wilson.
I have no fucking idea how to end this post because I’m still so annoyed, so instead I’ll leave you with some of my favorite Zoolander dialogue, where he plays the supermodel Hansel.
Hansel: So I’m rappelling down Mount Vesuvius when suddenly I slip, and I start to fall. Just falling, ahh ahh, I’ll never forget the terror. When suddenly I realize “Holy shit, Hansel, haven’t you been smoking Peyote for six straight days, and couldn’t some of this maybe be in your head?”
Derek Zoolander: And?
Hansel: And it was. I was totally fine. I’ve never even been to Mount Vesuvius.
| Etsy: QueenBodacious |
Dear Dr. Ding

Dear Dr. Ding:
What is the best way to tell someone that they are driving you crazy and that you need them to stop doing something? I have a relative I’m close to and who I hang out with a lot, who ends every sentence with “but what can I do?” or “nothing anyone can do about it, that’s just life” whenever we talk about her bratty kids or her lazy husband or her abusive boss. I don’t even know where to begin with this. I love her dearly but I can’t take this.
Pissin’ Cousin
Dear Pissin’:
Here’s the thing. This is a Huge Fucking Secret. Not the one with the cheesy wax seal illustration on the front called The Secret, but the real kind. I’m going to give it to you straight up, no chaser.
People don’t want to change.
There, I said it.
And ya know what? We can’t make them change. Even if they give us juicy, faux-helpless, “Po lil ole me, ah jes cain’t do nuthin’ right!” lines like your passive-dependent cousin, ones that seem to churn up maternal, caretaking, rescue fantasy scenarios deep within us that we can somehow, in some great and heroic way help them become less doormatty.
We’re just not that powerful. Not you, not me, not Oprah. Trust.
Your puling cousin probably feels the way she has allowed others to treat her is quite normal and in some way safe, and is looking to you for validation of these unfortunate choices. Your instinctual disgust at her seeming acceptance of the shittitudinous behavior of others is healthy and in fact should be shared, just as you said it here. You can briefly explain that you care about her and that it pains you to see her so beaten-down. You know the words, and you certainly don’t need my permission to say them. But what you do need is a strategy for dealing with what happens in your relationship after this conversation, because chances are excellent to outstanding that she just doesn’t want things to be any different, despite her complaints and your best efforts.
I’m not sure what kind of relationship you have, but if indeed you value your connection with her, you may need to take a time-out to as to preserve your sanity. It’s quite maddening to be around folks who don’t care much about themselves, and who deliberately engineer their life circumstances so that this poor relationship with themselves can persist, with minimal alteration. But…. you don’t have to be a witness to her idiocy. Take a break. Tell her you feel you need to be around people who can take responsibility for themselves and their circumstances in a more healthy way.
Your cousin may be absolutely shocked to hear that she sounds so sick when you tell her how much her behavior is affecting you, which would be a great moment to suggest counseling or psychotherapy, but don’t hold your breath that she’ll suddenly snap out of a lifetime of being everyone’s emotional punching-bag, all bushy-tailed and insightful and courageous, and say Oh Golly Yes, I See Where I’ve Got To Change I’ll Make An Appointment Immediately. She’ll probably be stunned and may express some hurt or irritation at what she will misperceive as a lack of support. Be prepared for this, possibly by wearing shoes with excellent traction so you can make a hasty escape if the situation warrants. I recommend these for those times when you need to look stylishly confrontational but also need solid foot-speed. Dr. Ding can attest to their awesome power. But back to you, Pissin’.
Another fairly livable solution is to insist you not talk about certain subjects with her until the day comes when she grows a set and quits whining. Just declare her victim stance off-limits, change the subject, get off the phone, get up and pour yourself a bourbon. Whatever. You didn’t cause her poor self-worth, but you have Dr. Ding’s 100% permission to no longer enable it by allowing her to polish her martyr’s crown when you’re together.
Some folks are perversely proud of all the horrid interpersonal manure that gets heaped upon them due to their utter lack of self-respect. They falsely spiritualize it, by telling people that they’re just trying to be a good Christian/Muslim/Buddhist/Yogi and that this is their lot in life/cross to bear/Dharma/karmic debt. They will then rationalize, explain away, justify, and intellectualize that it’s all just fine, even in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary. This particular form of self-inflicted suffering is an awesomely effective way of avoiding living a fuller, happier, riskier, more meaningful and possible lonelier life, and it is fantastically addicting.
So as for you, Dear Pissin’, if you like to sit around and listen to your cousin bitch about her non-Ricky Martin-style vida loca, then you may be riding in the caboose of the Crazy Train she’s driving (and by this I want you to understand I am not accusing you of biting the heads off of bats or of having continual mini-strokes on your own reality TV show, but I am accusing you of possibly secretly enjoying your cousin’s train wreck of a life and finding yours superior in comparison). Is that a trip you really want to take as often as you have been? Why not figure out why you’ve been spending so much time with someone who is so very negative and unrelentingly self-defeating.
You might ask yourself why you’re allowing yourself to be distracted from your sacred and holy life purpose by whiny-assed pukers who aren’t interested in personal responsibility.
And I’m spent.
| Etsy: QueenBodacious |
On Feelings and Faith: Selected quotes brought to you by Dr. Ding

Never apologize for showing feeling. When you do so, you apologize for the truth. ~Benjamin Disraeli
It is folly for a man to pray to the gods for that which he has the power to obtain by himself. ~Epicurus
People are like stained-glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in their true beauty is revealed only if there is light from within. ~Elisabeth Kübler-Ross
| Etsy: QueenBodacious |













