My Courageous Story
Dr. Ding bitchily survived the great A/C disaster of June 17, 2008 and has received a great deal of useful information regarding quiescently frozen underwear and glitta. I have the best readers, period.
I’m not sure y’all noted it, but I’ve joined the Humor-Blogs dot com website, and you can find the nugget on the far right sidebar if you scroll down past “Top Dingers.” Better yet….if you click on it, I receive a mild electrical shock at extremely inopportune moments, like when I’m talking to patients. Go on, try it.
Okay, so maybe it’s not as Milgram-ey as all that. Maybe you click it and HumorBlogs raises my I dunno “inappropriate-yet-entertaining” rating or some pointless shit that’s sure to get me nowhere in my continued attempts at world domination.
But back to you. Y’all are terrific. If GirlJesus™ were here, she’d give all y’all a marg or five, plus extra cheese and sour cream on your nachos in honor of your blog-commenting fabulosity. We would all then have a frug contest and give each other bouffant hairstyles in order to pay homage to her. Because today…today Dr. Ding envisages GirlJesus™ looking especially Nancy-Sinatraesque. It may have been the heat earlier or it may have been my stunning gift for invoking the syncretic powers of lesser 1960s celebrities. Either way: fabulous!
Zzonk! Biff! Kapow!
Many thanks to @labanjohnson for bringing this to my attention. It’s a very amusing picture taken at the Caroline Collective grand opening here in our very own H-town. Can you find the shrink who thinks she’s Catwoman?
No?
Okay. Let’s try this again. Can you find the shrink who thinks she’s a very nerdy Catwoman?
For Lo The Fashion Apocalyse Is Nigh
Dear GirlJesus™:
Dr. Ding knoweth not what sort of crazed and hellish fashion conspiracy created these shoes. But please, oh please, by the power of Your Heavenly Silver Shitkickers, Platform-Style, remove these jazzy huarache abominations from the collective unconscious so that we will no longer be so afflicted by their creepy and highly punctured 1980s spiritual vibration. For they were fugly then, fugly now, world without end, amen.
How To Be All Coolio, Just Like Dr. Ding
So there I was, toodling along the highways and byways of East Jesus Junction, TX (due south of Bumblefuck RFD), thinking to myself: Self, how can you, Dr. Ding, be cool? Not just cool, but supercool. Like, a Coolio level of cool. Should you get a gigantic, Wicca-bitch back piece that says “Blessed Be, Motherfuckers” in Olde English script? Or perhaps robin’s-egg blue Bettie Page bangs and an eyebrow piercing? The intolerably sensible-then-but-apparently-cool-nowadays stewardess haircut you briefly sported in 1985?
And then the holy Crackberry of Antioch did tremble to alert me of the following: @Diva_Ali had posted on her blog, the aptly-named Tiara Clink. “It’s about fricken time. Calloo! Callay!” I expostulated, with only slightly more drama than was neccessary, swerving comically to avoid hitting several crows feasting on an opossum carcass, and sloshing Coke Zero wantonly ‘pon my frock-coat.
Read the post and check out The Diva’s take on the Rock of Skank Tour. You will laugh. And even better: you will realize that you, Dr. Ding, and all the rest of us are waaaaay cooler than we thought, just the way we are.
Way.
I’m Tellin’ All Y’all It’s Sabotage
Dr. Ding is considering having some sort of theme to each week’s bloggue ripostes. Such as, oh, I don’t know…sabotage, perhaps?
Then again, maybe I’ll just keep cranking out the randomly interconnected, discursive reflections and rants.
In the meantime, help yourself to a big serving of “Sabotage” by the always funk-e-fresh Beastie Boys.
Confessions of Dr. Ding
Bless me, GirlJesus™ for I have sinned.
These are my sins since the time of my last confession.
1. Forgot to blog about the death of Arthur C. Clarke.
2. Didn’t eat any Easter Bunny chocolate in honor of you and your awesome holy silver Go-Go boots. Plumb forgot.
3. Have been tormented by incessant recollections very bad 1980s hair-metal (not to mention entire K-Tel record and tape commercial soundtracks) and have complained vociferously to any and all who would listen.
4. I haven’t been honoring you and your Immaculate Heart of the Platform Shitkickers by celebrating your Last Brunch with the customary ritual of drinking an entire pitcher of frozen margs at Chi-Chi’s, followed by nachos con queso. Sorry.
5. Last, in order to exorcize myself of the Hair Lords’ hold on me, I’m inflicting this video on my unsuspecting readership. I do, however, resolve to go and sin no more and to amend my life as you would have me do, all Nancy Sinatra-style.
Amen.