Step right up and get yourself diagnosed by the inimitable Dr_Paprika himself. Just post a quick blurb about your current mood, some likes and dislikes and he’ll cheerfully rip you a new one. (Did I type that out loud?)
I mean, he’ll give an insightful analysis of your condition. Remember folks, you can’t spell analysis without A-N-A-L. So, wait no further and get on board, because this thread’s going to be a genuine coffee-splorting-on-the-monitor sort of affair.
I give you the one and only Dr_Paprika!
PS: Doc, I’m feeling a little grumpy. I got all confused trying to sort out my multiple personalities in your “What Species of Doper Are You” thread over in MPSIMS. Now I’m resentful and ready to lash out at the hampster again. He nearly gnawed off my pinkie last time so I’m sure he’s ready for another round. What should I do?
Doc, I’m always tired, I’m endlessly bitter, and right now I’m pissed off because I’m at work on a beautiful day and I just broke a nail. I don’t think the cause of my grumpiness is really that simple, though. So what’s my deal?
Hi Doc. My major symptom seems to be that I am avoiding cleaning up the house. It is a big mess. I know I will be happier once it’s cleaned up, but I just can’t seem to get started. What’s wrong with me?
Hey Doc, I have a big problem that’s been causing trouble for me with everyone I know. They say I’m too happy. No matter how hard I try to be miserable, nothing seems to work. Please, I need help!
I’m in a constant state of sexual arousal. I flirt endessly with men that I know I can’t really have and it makes me want them even more. I engage in really kinky virtual sexual practices and I’m not ashamed of it.
Help me Doctor. [sub]Oh and did I ever mention that Paprika, reminds me of a Pap test and I feel so dirty all exposed like this. Yes, I’m a dirty, dirty girl.[/sub]
doc, doctor, good doctor p, herr doktor professor paprika, illuminate me. i am in dire need of your diagnostic genius.
do i take two red ones and one blue one, or two blue ones and one red one?
also, when making a grilled cheese, i shamelessly add another pat of butter when i flip it, even though i know damn well there is enough butter left in the pan already. doc, whats wrong with me?
I spend too much time here, hanging out, reading what all these brilliant, verbally adroit and charmingly adult people have to say about the world. I’m forever counting the number of letters in their names, and interrupting serious dissertations with pointless observations and queries.
My question - how do I blow up a cat? There was a thread about this when I first joined, I neglected to read it at the time, and I have been unable to find it since.
I only ask for information, you know. I’d never do it myself.
Excuse me everybody, but I’m going to have to see your insurance cards before the good doctor will even consider being in the same building as you and all of your assorted neurotic personalities. One at a time now…
AETBOND417:
Oh right. Like I haven’t heard that line a million times :rolleyes: Juniper200:
Oh puhleeease. I don’t know what kind of construction work you do for a living, but ordinary carpenter’s nails are 50¢ for a box of 1000 so get over it already. Sheesh. Green Bean:
Oh boy is that ever a loaded question. Obviously you’ve never seen that mug shot they took of you last year. Whooooo-wee. DonQuixote:
No need to state the obvious. Can’t you hear everybody in the waiting room talking about you?
Just wait until you get our bill. Mermaid:
Okay now we know who to send the carpet cleaning bill to.
I’d like to help but first you’ve got to tell us what the problem is. Scylla:
I desire to poop on you sneakily.
Wrong office; the methadode clinic is down the hall. essvee:
Lord have mercy. His diagnostic “genius” would probably not touch you with a ten foot couch. Let’s get your straight jacket back on and he’ll think about seeing you. Redboss:
Excuse me? What parallel universe are you living in?
We covered this in last week’s session, for which we still haven’t received your payment.
The doctor does not care to hear about your failures and inadequacies, thankyouverymuch.
Or your ridiculous, irrational inhibitions. DonQuixote:
HEY mister happy pants go BACK into the waiting room and finish that 1982 National Geographic article. Don’t make me get the men with the butterfly nets again.
Why “you” and the rest of “them” continue this charade is quite beyond me. Why I have known this place to be a setup from the getgo. Intriguing personalities, statements that entertain and provoke me, usernames whose origins lie in myth, fantasy, fairy tales, and silliness: this message board is no more real than the “life” you’ve constructed for me.
Give up, I will not be taken in.
PS: Can you make it snow just one more time in New York? Not another no show Noreaster, but something bright, calm, and flaky.
I’m trapped in an unhealthy sexual relationship with a bottle of Astroglide. As much as I give, it just seems to me that my lover’s reservoir of like compensation is becoming less and less each day. What do I do?
Oh baby. Oh baby. Oh baby. Oh baby. Baby. Baby! Ohhhhhh! Babbbbbby! Oh Baby! Oh. Oh. Okay baby, your hour is over. Now get the fuck out. I need the couch and stuff. My receptionist will make pointless small talk with you before giving you a bill since maple syrup is not covered by your current insurance plan. And I’m sorry I couldn’t tear you anything new today. See you next week.
Okay, time for lunch and… WTF? Why the hell is my waiting room full of low life layabouts? Holy Hannah, I’m too sleepy to spend an hour with each of these saps… I’ll just string them along with some broad generalizations and jargon and use a lot of pretentious German words.
Zenster
You’re a mess. On one hand, you’re a delightful wheaty cereal high in fibre and nutrition. This side is passive and boring. On the other side, you’re a white, sweet frosting of glucose that reminds you of your forgotten childhood bedwetting. I call this side anger, since sugar makes kids aggressive and cooks tend to be pedantic about gastronomic minutiae.
What I’m saying is that you are passive-aggressive. Like a tasteless hunk of fibre, you bought a hamster since you thought it would take less time than larger pets and would also double as a form of sexual gratification. I mean, seems odd the first things you would mention, even before your name, is A-N-A-L and the tearing off new ones. On the other hand, your dichotomy makes you grumpy and fills you with ennui. You try to wrestle your hamster when he bites your “pinkie”. Start wrestling with your fears instead. Accept the fact you are part pedantic Expert, part Sweetness and Light.
Passive agressive people respond well to group psychotherapy. I have another patient with some of the same problems you do. I’ll hook you two up. Now get the fuck out. I’m hungry and there’s still lots of people to see. Why is it always “me me me me me” with you people? My receptionist will ignore you for the next ten minutes and thenbitch that her worthless daughter never eats her salmon mousse.
This problem is deeper than simple cixelsyd or even an expressive thought disorder, two minor ailments that would not stop you running for high political office in North America. In fact, you have difficulty typing because you have a formal thought disorder of the type seen in schizophrenics, Hollywood movie stars, fundamentalists and people who SUCCEED in running for high political office in Norh America. You cry all day because you are sad. You are sad in part because you depend on psychiatric advice from a person who reminds you of your manifold inadequacies, partly because you have to pay to see the aforementioned genius, partly because you are clearly a Class Clown poster and others fail to appreciate your genius, and partly since you have repressed memories of an unrequited love with the schizoid teacher who taught you “keyboarding” in high school and haunts your dreams with a seductive “f f f space, j j j space, f j f space”. Now find your own space, by which I mean, get the fuck out of my office. My receptionist will belittle your disabilities and will dress up like you at our next office party. NEXT! Juniper
Let me tell you a story. A Montrealer has a party and invites his French friends, asking them each to dress up as an emotion. His first friend shows up at the door. My friend sees he has spray painted his entire body green. “Jean-Claude, good costume, but why green?”. “My friend, I am green with envy”.
The next guest shows up by and by. She is wearing red boots, a red skirt, a red blouse, red gloves and too much rouge. “Great costume, Jeanne-Claudette, but what is it?”. “My friend, I am red with ANGER!”
By and by, the next guest rings the bell. My friend opens the door and is stunned when he sees his friend stark naked, his hoo ha hidden only by a giant pear that he holds directly in front of his muchacho. “Jean-Jean, that is a great costume, but I’m confused. What is it?”. “My friend, I am fucking in dis pear.”
You are full of envy and rage and you are fucking in despair. It’s nice out and you resent being in the office. You are angry because you broke a nail. You are sad because you are grumpy and want to know your deal. The cards never lie, Juniper. Your deal is that that though you long to be a WIld Woman Out of Control, in fact you are a repressed Performance Artist. Be yourself. Spray paint your body yellow, go downtown, and ask all the attractive men you see there if they like your banana. Now get the fuck out of my office. Bye and bye. My receptionist will give you my bill and screw you purple. Green Bean
Freud is famous for two things: a delicious recipe for peanut fudge handed down from psychiatrist to psychiatrist in a bombastic orgy held every ten years in Vienna under the full moon, and the quote “Work and love, those are the basics. Without them there is neurosis.”
And rightfully so. “Work fascinates me”, said Jerome K. Jerome. “I could sit and watch it for hours.” Everyone has trouble getting started with work. But you take it one step too far. You know getting it done would help you, but you can’t do it since you find cleaning dull. You need to add an element of fun and fantasy to the job to make it more satisfying. Next time you are picking up scattered clothes, pretend you are an archeologist in the Rift Valley unearthing evidence of a previous Neandrethal civiliztion. (This is probably close to the truth if you have family or roommates). Next time you are washing clothes, pretend the machine is a boat taking you into unexplored realms of the Amazon. The next time you need to dust and clean, dress up in a sexy French maid outfit. A lot of these outfits are sold for the purposes of gratuitious entertainment and are made of flimsy material. You deserve a good quality outfit, and should wear it to the office when you come for your appointment next week so I can see that you have a good quality garment and take pictures and verify that the outfit fits properly. Now until next week, get the fuck out of here, and see my receptionist who will get started cleaning out the contents of your bank account.
You are one deluded dude, a fact shown by your choice of the name Don Quixote. Stop tilting at windmills and express your inner torment. You say you are happy and others resent your spirited mood. Then you say nothing makes you miserable. Then you piss and moan that you’re miserable since as part of my psychotherapy, I make you wait in my waiting room that hasn’t seen a new magazine since 1992. Finally, you admit the truth, and not to me (I might add) that there are lots of things you do not enjoy. You do not enjoy, for example, masturbating when both of your parents are in the room.
And this stands to reason. Your parents resented you. They taught you to swim by throwing you in a sack and tossing you in the river. They tied a piece of porterhouse around your neck to get the dog to play with you. It ain’t the spirited moods that they resent, but the fact that their parents did the same thing to them. There’s a wall between you and your parents. Until you resolve this communication difficulty, there will always be a wall between you and everyone you know.
Include your parents in all your activities. You don’t enjoy masturbating in front of them since they are not active participants in the process. Don’t be a jerk. Be a circle jerk. This will bring you closer to your parents. It will make you miserable and confused, which will resolve your original complaint. It will tear down the wall, Performance Artist. You don’t need no education. After all it’s not easy. Banging your head against some mad buggers wall. Now my receptionist will give you another brick. Get out! Mermaid
You’re a mess. Part Schizoid, part Wild Woman Out Of Control, part salmon. Don’t worry. I can help you. But first, when was your last Pap test? If I’m not mistaken, I smell fish, and I warn you that transmitted diseases predispose to cervical cancer even in mermaids. So, purely for professional reasons, let me quickly build a speculum out of Lego and make sure, for the benefit of your health, that everything is okay. I’m sorry you feel dirty. Tell me much more about this. What kinky sexual practices are you thinking of that give you no shame. I need you to tell me in excruciating detail so I can make a fair and balanced assessment of whether decent people should feel ashamed of this. I’ll tell my receptionist to cancel the rest of my appointments for the time being so you can get back to me and give me this information. I must also warn you that you seem to be feeling quite aggressive and flirtatious, but are also quite passive since you don’t end up getting the men you want. I’m going to introduce you to a friend of mine, who must rename anonymous for reasons of personal confidentiality that we medical professionals consider very important. So, I’m going to refer to him only as “Zen Star”. I also feel this patient is passive-aggressive and would benefit, as I would, from gently coating you in Vermont maple syrup, the proper method from washing it off, and showing you how to properly whip your salmon into a satisfying mousse. My receptionist and I will also participate, since group psychotherapy in my experience is beneficial for all the participants.
The office is closed for the night. Attrayant, get in here. And don’t tell the other patients we won’t be seeing them for a while. As a doctor, I know they have nothing better to do then wait in my office reading Reader’s Digest articles and gossiping about the other patients.
