Send Me Your Questions!

Hello, gentle reader. Back in the old-timey days over here at Ask Dr. Ding, I used to ride a ridiculously oversized Victorian bicycle and sport voluminous Mary Todd Lincoln crinolines and receive actual questions from actual readers about all sorts of topics related to relationships, work, love, death, laudanum intoxication, you name it. And I miss it.

Somewhere along the line, I started blogging about a lot of other stuff, like my love of drag queens, Tater Tot casserole, and terrible movies.

But something is missing, and that something is you.

So. PLEASE write me questions to which I can respond either on here, or in my videos, for you see I stink at groveling, so you’re just going to have to humor me. See what I mean? I’m think I’m over here being all beseeching and whatnot, but I can’t quite get the right tone. But I’m so for real. Write meh. All authors are guaranteed anonymity, and if you don’t provide a groovy pseudonym I’ll invent one for you.

You can go up to the really sexy menu bar at the top, underneath the candle pic, and click Talk To Me, or you can just click on this, and it shall take you there on the wings of eagles or some shit like that.

Or, hit me up at askdrding (at)

Oh Mah Gah, I'm Back Again

Undershirts! Undershirts! Undershirts!

Undershirts! Undershirts! Undershirts!

I haven’t been on this thing in a minute. Mostly because the few times I’ve gotten on here and opened a page, the intro lyrics to the old Highlander TV show would play in my head, in their entirety.  This would then lead to a lot of nostalgia for the 1990s, but not, I repeat NOT for the high-waisted pants so popular then. Oh my Lort, no.

My life has changed considerably since the heyday of AskDrDing. For starters, I moved from Houston back to Denver, and changed my career path after toiling away in various institutional-type settings, opening up a small private practice and returning to teaching. I broke it off with the Beyoncé.  I had a sprinkler system installed in the backyard.  I lost a bunch of weight in 2011 but then, yay, found part of it in 2012 when my Achilles got all bitchazz on me. Learned they still make Big League Chew.

In 2012 I bought the vehicle of my dreams, a janky, to’ up 2004 Land Rover Discovery. I attempted and failed at 2 more NaNoWriMos. Traveled a bunch.  My beloved Pooparella became ill with cancer and died in 2013. I stopped writing in the 3rd person. Reconnected with many dear friends from the olden times. Learned to cook things other than Tater Tot casserole. By which I mean salads. Shacked up with a wonderful new fella, who I have yet to nickname.

Rediscovered* my spirituality.  Bought new furniture.  Started doing Tarot card readings again. Made a fuckton of apple butter. Endured the deaths of three people close to me.  Mourned intensely. Resumed having visions and dreams. Made new friends. Learned that I’d been wearing the wrong bra size for 20 years.  Realized I no longer feel the need to hide or qualify my belief  in the transcendence as well as the immanence of the soul. Became addicted to True Detective and Words With Friends. Bought a steam vacuum and used that fucker.

It’s a rich tapestry, people. I’ve started putting together some YouTube videos. I’ve got other projects in the works as well.

No more butlers. Or careless talk of pushpins. Or bids for world domination.

It’s all about healing the world, baby. Immanentizing the eschaton.

Things there will still be: drag queens, glitter, profanity, sarcasm, toots, incisive commentary on the nature of human existence and whatnot.

Stay up, players. Send me your questions. Ding out.

*Yas. I got some splaining to do here.


And just for fun:







Momma Needs Her Lil' Smokies

Hey y’all.

Dr. Ding was just setting here watching her stories on the tell-o-vision kerwhatchit, thinking Goddang, where is my links at? My blogroll done look like crap! or something equally insightful.

Seriously. Send me your blog links. The blogroll is woefully out-of-date and wants for reorganizing. Evil Manservant Jeebes is pretty much useless these days, much preferring to polish the furniture with whale oil and cordite than to help with such housekeeping matters, craven Dunhill-smoking blaggard that he is.



Phone: (720) 235-8135


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