Ask Dr. Ding

So I’m out walking Pooperella just now, and a minivanful of what I’m assuming might have been Japanese tourists slows to a crawl as they approach me, your formidable HBIC of this here blog. Pooperella is checking her p-mail or some goddamned Dog Whisperer thing I know nothing about when several of the tourists start pointing and gesturing at me excitedly. I gave them the side-eye and kept on hustlin’. I am pretty sure at least one of them took my picture, because some flashes went off right before they peeled out.

When I got back inside I asked The Beyoncé what the dealio was, and he took a look at me and suggested that maybe the tourists were impressed with my overall chola look. Puzzled, I eventually after a couple hours of napping ran pell-mell to the bathroom mirror and was forced to concede that indeed I looked like an Irish-Luxembourger-American who could possibly have a straight razor up in her Winehouse. Or who could punch your lights out using only the force of her Irish Catholic guiltfu*. Or who could whip up two gallons of wax bean soup in under an hour and serve it to you with a ridiculous French accent.

I definitely looked like I might cut a bitch, and apparently this completely escaped me when I did my a.m. mirror check. So I decided to have The Beyoncé commemorate my normal weekend look this auspicious occasion. I have no idea if this is what a 40 year-old chubby shrink is supposed to look like, but this is what we’re workin’ with. Good thing those tourists got their photos before I had to pull a strap.

*Just like kungfu only guiltier.