Ask Dr. Ding

Apparently, not Dr. Ding, that’s who.

I’m supposed to be lying gratefully in a teensy and damp plastic tent after pounding out 26 miles right about now, courtesy of the Houston 2008 Avon Breast Cancer Walk. But no. ‘Twas not to be.

One of my major 2008 goals was to raise $3600 for The Walk this year, doubling last year’s take. In order to walk, Avon requires that you raise $1800, and Dr. Ding raised a piddly $1445.

Alas. I fell quite a bit short of my goal.

Which sucks. I’ve been preoccupied with some workplace issues lately, working a fairly ridiculous number of hours under ah…less than ideal conditions, and hallucinating the absence of squirrels. Ergo I did a half-assed job of browbeating my peeps into ponying me up into the requisite $1800 range. Although I’ve developed a strong immunity to inappropriate guilt, I admit I’m disappointed in my own ability here to harrass, cajole, and outright emotionally blackmail an unsuspecting public into busting out the cashola in support of the ta-ta cancer cure.

On the other hand, I’m sitting on my couch in the comfort of an air-conditioned living room, drinking a cold diet 7-Up and patting Pooperella contentedly. I’m not sore, burned, bitten, swearing, exhausted, and in dire need of a plastic cup of Gatorade mixed with Grey Goose, which I would be if I was on The Walk. Why, I can just summon my evil manservant Jeebes to mix said cocktail, and to bring it to me on a silver salver. Yes.

In re the remainder of the 2008 list: I’m pleased to report that I’m doing a fantastic job of getting manicures, pedicures, and massages, as well as yeoman work in the area of regular oil changes for The Precious. Whew. That’s some challenging, personal limit-pushing stuff there, people. Damn. I don’t know how much longer I can keep up this ardous type of deeply spiritual introspection coupled with decisive and visionary strides into the future.

Full disclosure: I have yet to convince The Beyoncé to pose for that very tasteful nude-but-for-a-sombrero pictorial, but then again, we haven’t made it to Mexico yet, either.

Jeebus. Come to think of it, I’m really not doing such a hot job at all.

Treatment recommendation reminders for myself:

• More browbeating!
• More pressure on The Beyoncé to drink tequila while pantsless and proximal to sombrero!
• More controlling, less listening!
• More steampunk Star Wars!

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