Ask Dr. Ding

Hell if I know, but lots of you have asked about how to choose a psychotherapist. Dr. Ding thinks you should first check out APA’s website. There are also lots of other sites, like www.PsychCentral.com, that will actually give you pretty good, serious answers.

Dr. Ding is here to give you good, non-serious answers. If you choose to glean some sort of actual understanding or clarity from them, it’s your nickel.

1. If there is an excessive amount of animal fur present in the consultation area (the room where you sit and talk), think twice. It’s Dr. Ding’s opinion that this area is to be considered sacred space. Failing that, it shouldn’t be a place where cats lick their genitals, where meals are prepared or eaten, or where you notice anything resembling a lack of confidentiality. Some therapists work from home, some from offices, some inside large agencies. It’s perfectly fine to work from home, but the area should look clean and professional.

The space where you meet should be clean, safe, and private. Under no circumstances should you engage in psychotherapy on a leaking, sinking garbage barge. There should be some sort of window covering so your confidentiality is preserved, as well as a nitrogen-rich atmosphere. A door is often helpful, as are walls and a comfortable chair or sofa. You get the idea.

2. Pay attention to your feelings. For once. For Chrissakes. If you’re feeling uncomfortable with the devotional velvet depiction of The Last Supper hanging on the wall over a couch that smells like things that are best kept inside underpants, this probably means something important.

Also: when you make that initial appointment, you’re evaluating your new potential shrink just as much as they’re evaluating you. So, if you feel hinky, remember that you don’t have to come back. Or even stay the whole 50 minute hour.

Remember — you don’t have to tell everything all at once in the first session. If you feel pressed more than just slightly beyond* your comfort zone for human interaction to reveal stuff you’d rather not deal with, you should feel comfortable saying no. If this isn’t respected, move on.

3. Do you feel listened to and taken seriously? If not, go to someone else. Psychotherapy is predicated upon the healing relationship achieved by patient and therapist, which includes stuff like trust, openness, respectful communication, blah blah. But be sure ask yourself if deep down you feel that this person is “getting” you. Sometimes it takes more than one session before this kind of rapport can be achieved, but you probably have all the information you need about this within the first 10-15 minutes. (more…)

Dr. Ding found a review of the EatMeCrunchy Bowl on Shiny Shiny, which is a veddy brill website from the UK, sweetie darlings, which led me to Firebox, who is now of course sold out of these little low-tech delights.

The concept behind this revolutionary breakfast bowl is forehead-slappingly simple. A removable shelf covers 70% of the bowl’s base, holding the cereal above the milk. All you have to do is eat your cereal from the shelf-less section of the bowl where the cereal and milk meet, pushing the cereal in as required. Brilliant!

Awright yawl. Now Dr. Ding is off The Clash, and is moving on to The Specials. I used to have the coolest Specials t-shirt ever. Which made me, of course, yes, you guessed it, cool.

If you can ignore the Pythonesque mugging and $7.19 budget, feast your ears on Madness’ Night Boat to Cairo, possibly one of my favorite saxomaphone solos of all time.

And to round out our tour thru the music of Dr. Ding’s early adolescence, I’ll leave you with the whacked-out Madness doing One Step Beyond.

Rudie Can’t Fail!

Fuck!! I traded London Calling, and now I’ve got ole brew-drinking Rudie.

Well, enjoy Joe Strumner and the Mescaleros version. For some reason, this song has always made me want to 1) dance and then 2) possibly punch someone who desperately needs it, or maybe just blow up a building. Only a small one, though.

I don’t know why, but today Dr. Ding cannot get this song out of her head. So, in the interests of sharing my obsession with my readership so that I no longer struggle alone, speakers up.

Come on. Admit it. You love a geek. Smart, usually acerbic, iconoclastic and fascinated by stuff no one else understands, The Geek can be difficult to purchase for.

Never fear. Dr. Ding has compiled a list of top 5 geeky gifts to get you going in the right direction.

Dr. Ding’s Top 5 Geek Gifts

By Dr. Ding

1. 56 Geeks poster from MyExtraLife. Get the 8×12 for $9.99, or the 20×30 for $29.99, by Scott Johnson. Fucking hilarious.

2. Gorgeous handcrafted SO2 wooden ZaNa flash drives. Made from merbau wood (whateverthefuck that is), silver 925 or natural amber. When you plug it in, a flashing amber light is used as the access indicator. Coolness. Priced at $64 for 1GB, and $83 for 2GB. Order here.

3. Pretty much anything from The Mozilla Store. Dr. Ding and The Beyonce heavily favor the nifty t-shirts, thus proclaiming our geekish status. Say it loud, say it proud.

4. Briggs & Riley rolling computer case. Simply the best I’ve ever owned. They even come sized for those of you with 17″ monster monitors. Priced between $349 and $499, they ain’t cheap, but they last forever and can take tremendous abuse without signs of wear. They’re also loaded with lots of clever extras. Boring as hell in black, but here I’d gladly trade color for functionality.

5. Red Swingline stapler. At only $21.99, it can be yours just by visiting ThinkGeek.com. There’s nothing quite so pure and quintessentially Art Deco as the beautifully functional Swingline. Behold.

(All)Y’all:

A former student of Dr. Ding sent me this (totally fake, non-empircally or otherwise-validated) Tibetan Personality Test, supposedly endorsed by His Holiness The Dalai Lama, or, as I sometimes refer to him, Buddykins. I have absolutely no idea if it indeed was ever endorsed by Buddykins or not, but I really thought it was a gas, and people…I for once am not talking about farts.

My results came back as the title of this post would imply. Who knew that Dr. Ding was such a money-grubbing whore* tied to ye olde apron string?

Dr. Ding would very much like to meet Buddykins some day, as he looks most fetching with his impishly joyous smile, adorably bald head, and googly glasses. I believe we would have a festive lunch of graham crackers and hot yak butter tea, and then end up pillow-fighting and telling bad jokes.

Whenever I see Buddykins’ image, I am positively stricken with the urge to tickle him under that right arm that remains uncovered, because he’s so goddamned cute. Or maybe it’s the whole wisdom-of-the-ages thing. Oh, and probably being the reincarnation of the Bodhisattva of Compassion thing…..that might have something to do with it too.

*I kid, I kid. Just a little humor for all y’all**.

**Here in Texas, the pronoun y’all is often considered singular, whereas all y’all is considered the plural form thereof. Just thought all y’all would want to know.

Hey Dingstereenos!

It feels good to give. Not until you’re broke, burned-out, wildly annoyed, agitated, or a lil bit psychotic…but giving just feels like a good thing to do. Acts of altruism can help enhance feelings of personal accomplishment and self-efficacy, which is a fancy way of saying that when you give, you really feel like you’ve done something more meaningful than, say, tipping your leg waxer.

Two of my favorite charitable organizations are the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer, and the Texas Marine Mammal Stranding Network. Oh, and then there are the inimitable Save 2nd Base and Save Second Base charities, who have truly witty t-shirts.

I walked, gasped, limped, and bitched my way through the Chicago Walk last year and I’m doing it again this year in Houston in April. There will probably be a higher bitching-to-walking ratio as the humidity is likely to be significantly irritating to my delicate constitution. But walk I shall. This year Dr. Ding is going to raise $3,600 to help fund medically underserved men and women with the disease by attempting to trudge 39 miserable goddamned concrete miles over the course of 2 days*. There will also be urban camping, of which I am not fond, but last year I was so exhaustedly close to total moral collapse that I just didn’t fucking care where I slept.

Won’t you please allow me to blackmail you into donating? Send me an email and I’ll send you the link to my Avon Walk homepage. Once there, feel free to empty your pockets. Aah. Now don’t you feel peachy?

The TMMSN is a pretty cool organization. And better still, it involves very little straining, grunting and cursing on my part. I give money each year and buy a shitload of t-shirts and festive plastic bracelets so that various unfortunate dolphins that wash up on the Gulf shores can be rehabbed, poked, prodded and pretty much pissed-off back into health. I fucking LOVE dolphins. They’re smart, they’re adorable, and their sonar-like communications may actually (more…)

You may be surprised to learn that Dr. Ding has an actual mother and did not daintily spring, wholly formed, from the head of some demon goddess. But, yes, it’s true. Not only does Dr. Ding have a mother, but she has an Irish Catholic Mother.

For those of you who aren’t in the know, most Irish Americans aren’t exactly renowned for their vast skills with the culinary arts. Many in my family can barely open a package of frozen fish sticks without some series of issues cropping up, such as: Do I own a pan? And if so, where is it located? Ah yes, the kitchen. Hmm. Says here to thaw the sticks first, but I’m thinking that’s probably just for the Prods who can’t be bothered to eat fish on Friday. I’d better call Maureen and ask her about this thawing business. Strikes me as totally unnecessary.

Okay, so maybe we aren’t that inept or anachronistic. Maybe it’s just Dr. Ding’s excuse for serving The Beyonce beef hotdogs atop low-carb pasta while passing it off as as Celtic Ratatouille. Maybe.

Regardless, Dr. Ding’s Momma used to make these cookies around the holidays, and let me just say, they’re fantasgreat. They taste like you spent all day baking, or at least flinging bits of flour into the air so that it lands on your face, making it look like you’ve been very assiduously toiling away all day in the kitchen. Not that I’ve ever done that.

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Howdy ho, neighboreenos. It’s that holiday season again, and I’ll just bet you’re wondering how you can fuck it up beyond all recognition. Well never fear, Dr. Ding is here, bearing some much-needed wisdom.

Seems like this time of year everyone wants to de-stress, stay super healthy, simplify, find deeper connections, and just generally take the piss out of Christmas. Or Harmonica. [Same diff. No matter how many points your religion’s star has, it’s all about the return of the Sun god, whether it be Jesus, Mithras, or Ra.]

Well, fuck that, I say.

Whatever happened to having a truly memorable holiday season, stuffed to the gills with excitement, consumerism, mayhem, and senseless idolatry? Read on for ideas.

1. Accept that you CAN and MUST find the perfect gift for everyone you know. Everyone (includes: dentist, cashier at Target, manicurist, UPS guy, someone you once said hello to in the weight room) expects a gift, and it had better be damn good. Failure to locate said gift prior to December 24th just means you are one irredeemably lazy, sorry sack of shit who can’t even bother to try to make up for being such a fatuous ass the rest of the year.

This is your ONLY chance to prove exactly how worthy you are by buying stuff you can’t really afford. It’s the way it’s always been done. Low credit card balances are for sissies. Now hop to it, you miserable wretch. Buy that love! Buy it!

2. Put yourself on a strict diet or exercise plan that leaves you feeling so strung-out and deprived of nutrients that you gorge yourself bucktoothed and cross-eyed at every lousy wax-frostinged office party and odd plate of stale cookies from now until December 31st. With just a smidge of careful planning you might be lucky enough to come down with Type II Diabetes by New Year’s, and fall face-down in the punchbowl when your blood sugar finally plummets. Spectacular. And those zits! That tooth decay! The sullen stare of hypoglycemia. Tout c’est magnifique!

3. Admit it: simple Christmases are booor-ing. So let’s be sure to keep those expectations sky-high, people! Think of how much more everyone will love you for hosting the brunch, the cookie exchange, the candy-making party, the dinner, and the sledding get-together by the lake with the string quartet, not to mention the 20 square feet of taffy you stayed up for 72 hours just to pull by hand. It’s so worth it, and if you don’t do all this, everyone will see what a boring old Grinchy poo you really are. Time to make tinsel by hand! Your job, family, and carpal nerves can totally wait. Insanity NOW!

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