Somebody Buy Me This
Oh my gentle GirlJesus™. I found this gem over at List of The Day. I want!
What’s not to love? Purple-haired aliens, mesh manboob shirts, and supergroovy space vehicles. I immediately put it at the top of my Netflix queue. If this is wrong, then I don’t want to be right.
And while I’m on the subject of cinéma vérité, when are you bitchez going to pony up and buy me Killer Drag Queens on Dope like I demanded asked so nicely? Chop chop.
| Etsy: QueenBodacious |
Lordy Lordy Look Who’s 40

That’s right, you’ns. Dr. Ding is turning 40 tomorrow and I couldn’t be happier. Why? Read on, my gentle and very sexy readers.
1. Finally, I will have a smokescreen for my pottymouthed, irreverent and curmudgeonly behavior. People will just go “Oh, it’s probably just the perimenopause talking” and leave it at that, which then allows me to continue my bid for global domination unfettered by things like decorum. Or, quite possibly, a job.
2. I will be squarely in the zone of negative a-fuck-giving. I’ve been teetering between Not Caring One Whit about what others think and Not Giving A Tinker’s Damn, but rollin’ with the 4-0 heaves me into some hippy-zen kind of mental state where I’m all cool with letting the stream of life, like flow on by me, man. Wow. It’s just so….there, you know?
3. According to the ancient ways of my people* turning 40 entitles me legally to go swanning around whenver I feel like it while demanding that people pay homage by throwing glitter and the occasional set of rhinestone eyelashes.
4. Most people don’t know this, but being out of one’s 30s automatically imbues one with deep mystical wisdom, effortless grace, and the sudden ability to perform the Electric Booglaoo. Truth. Behold:
*Women who unabashedly adore drag queens, 1980s nighttime soap opera wardrobes, and pretty much anything with a reflective surface.
| Etsy: QueenBodacious |
Oh Baby You. You Got What Ding Need.
A few weeks ago, Dr. Ding was overcome by a fit of nostalgia and posted a torrent of Biz Markie-related posts and the following YouTube video on Twitter in the vain hope of self-adminstering a cure for my musical affliction.
It didn’t take.
So, here you go. Mr. Markie in all his funky, Momma-ranking, Mozart-bewigged glory. I’m including the lyrics after the jump so you can sing along.
You know you want to.
| Etsy: QueenBodacious |
The Watchmen Trailer. That Is All.
Self Improvement DIY: How To Make Your Very Own Intrapsychic Sith Lord For Fun And Profit
This One Goes Out To All The Little People
So if you’ve read this, you’ve undoubtedly begun to question Dr. Ding’s sanity intentions. No matter. I want to be perfectly clear…I write this blog entirely for the amusement of the wee fae folk who live in my closet and multiply my shoe collection while writing indignant letters to the editor about stuff like shoddy toadstools and weed-killer.
Okay, in all fairness, I guess this blog is really for myself plus the expansion of my ongoing bid for Global Domination, Non-Nefarious Type, Recurrent, Severe.
Back to how to assemble your very own Intrapsychic Sith Lord. I’ve probably lost you already, so feel free to slap yourself around a little, a la one of those fast-talking film noir private eyes who wear their trousers hiked up to their armpits. Better?
Saintly Advisor v. Peculiar Advisor: Saying The Same Thing?
A very peculiar advisor of mine (not Saintly Advisor) in Gradual School once told me, “Young Dingenstein, you must know this if you are to know anything of importance in psychotherapy: defend the Self, not the Ego.” I of coure was totally puzzled by this remark, as Saintly Advisor had just given me the whole importance-of-intimidation knowledge the semester before. I pegged it immediately as Crazy Talk, and filed it away under Things I Will Act Like I Understand When I’m In The Presence Of Faculty, because I was really into my Jennifer Aniston haircut and brown lipstick back then, and had a hard time focusing without the benefit of two pots of coffee, three diet Pepsis, and a pack of menthol Marlboros.
The following semester, during the course of clinical supervision, Peculiar Advisor made the same defend-the-Self speech again, only this time it started to sink in a little bit further. By the time I finished Gradual School, ninety freaking years later, I had a somewhat more encompassing idea of what he meant, but still the deeper applications of this statement confounded me utterly.
The Delicate Art Of Self-Protection
So here’s the thing. If you’re someone who might be construed as a Lightworker (read: decent, helpful person who feels guided to make the world a better place), you may at times feel uncomfortable or awkward defending yourself against the blandishments of the myriad asshats and douchebags of planet earth. This is where Darth Maul and his ilk come in.
It’s perfectly okay to defend yourself with a lightsaber parry/thrust/spin, e.g. “Your (particular action) is not alright with me” or perhaps “I said ‘no’ and I meant it so stop pissing down my leg and telling me it’s raining” and even “Hi-yah! Back, you varlet, back you knave. Back I say!” Or words to that effect. Most of us are raised to think this is effrontery. It’s not.
In fact, it is non-negotiably neccessary to have the ability to stand up for your deep convictions, to insist on your integrity, to speak out against injustice and abuses and to pierce right to the heart of things when who you are is being impugned.
It is NOT such a good idea to defend your ego in the same manner. The ego is all about maintaining the illusion of power, control, and security, and it’s pretty short-sighted. The classy move here is generally to let the force pass rather than join in the affray and make yourself look just as insecure, fear-based, and, well…douchey as the person or persons who are attacking you.
Hi, I’m Nice. Now Start Treating Me Bad
My only substantive critique of the whole Lightworker (see also: Positive Psychology) movement amongst helping professionals and their allies is that it can tend to leave a person prey to the swindlers, the charlatans, and the predators of this world. Why? I’d hazard the cause has something to do with a relentless and occasionally naïve focus on Everything Pleasant And Groovy. And trust me, having spent a great deal of time behind bars, I can assure you that there are decidedly unpleasant folks are out there, and that at some point you’re going to run into one.
This is where the Intrapsychic Sith Lord can be your best friend as you cut a swath through the bullshittery and general idiocy that can befall the Lightworkers of this world. Sometimes, in order to protect what is good and true within you, you gotta be willing kick a little ass.
So how do you deal with mean people when you’re not?
Well, let’s think about this: how did Darth Maul* get to be so fucking awesomely awesome at kicking Jedi ass?
Simple: rehearsal.
Practice saying “no” to people who don’t have your best interests at heart. Practice a few short but polite phrases when you’re confronted with something you find repugnant. Learn to defend your own honor instead of waiting for somone to rush to your aid. Borrow some verbal jiu-jitsu joint locks if you have to, or make some up. You can borrow them from film, from someone you admire, from wherever, but get them. And make them yours.
And now that I’ve got all that out of my system, here’s a little extrapsychic Sith Lord action for youse:
* Yeah about that. I know I totally could have used a Jedi Knight as a metaphor for appropriate psychological self-defense, but that dude who played ole Darth Maul could fight like a some kind of awesome Bruce Lee banshee and I totally dig that. Plus, I sometimes throw random topics into Jeebes’ bowler hat and force myself to write about the first two I extract just to keep The Force strong within me. Go big or go home, I say.
| Etsy: QueenBodacious |
Dear Dr. Ding
Ed. note: By the Sacred Silver Go-Go Boots of GirlJesus™, Dr. Ding is delighted to take a break from her strenuous biweekly posting schedule featuring mostly YouTube videos, tiny monkeys, and random pelvic thrusting in order to respond to reader mail.
Dear Dr. Ding:
Why don’t you write some posts about all your interesting (or “clinically significant”) adventures at work, the crazy things your patients do? I know you, girl. You’ve worked in max. security prison, drug treatment, a pain management clinic, private practice, inpatient, outpatient, impatient (see I can be funny too), and now you work in long-term care. I know you must have some really funny stories in there. Dish.
You Know Who
Dear You Know Who:
Le heave. Le sigh. Dr. Ding most assuredly DOES possess a vast reservoir of highly clinically significant and/or hysterically funny anecdotes from her varied career to date. However, this stuff just isn’t cricket for me to offer up here for reader amusement. We can talk about my loathing of paradoxical intent, my delight in rediscovering Ericksonian hypnosis for pain control, and the fact that I find it disproportionately hilarious to call managed care “damaged care”…but I view the confidential bond between shrink and shrinkee as not just an ethical precept, but something inviolable, something actually sacred.
I know, I’m totally harshing your humor buzz, You Know Who. And I know you’re going to be annoyed with me personally, kind of like that time I spat out that hellish swill you call a well-made gin martini. But I just can’t talk about specifics. Can I speak in generalities about some rather uh whimsical social trends I’ve witnessed over the last couple of decades? Sure. Can I reveal the cure for aging in a scabrous yet silly way? Sure. But it ends there.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some go-go boots I must needs attend to fortwith. Chi Chi’s doesn’t take reservations after 7:00 p.m. you know, no matter whose spiritual posse you’re rolling with.
| Etsy: QueenBodacious |















