I don’t like to admit that I read Dooce.com. That blog ain’t exactly Dostoyevsky. But, I love that fallen Mormon chick who lives in Salt Lake City. She’s got two cool kids and two cool dogs. A husband who has his own blog, all about design and photography and stuff. She swears a lot. She makes me laugh. She posts with a regularity that I can only aspire to. (It's like she's the valedictorian of posting.) Her photos are out of this world, and she’s the reason I bought the most expensive camera I could afford.
Sometimes, I try to tell myself I won’t read her anymore, like when she’s talking about Bangladesh or training for her stupid marathon, but I always come back. I can’t quit Coca-Cola and I can’t quit Dooce. There, I said it.
So, when I read that she and her husband had separated, I was all surprised and sad. So much so that my friend Roger said, “Are you actually UPSET that Dooce and her husband broke up? You’re upset. About the Internet chick you’ve never met.”
I said, “No, no of course not. I’m upset about Seal and Heidi.”
But what I really meant was, “I’m SO SAD about Dooce!" Damn. That sucks. I thought those bloggernauts would make it in this crazy world.
So here is my message to my favorite blogger:
Dooce, I know there’s a lot of haters out there, but I’m all about hater-free zones. So, if you need my private jet or the use of my Swiss chalet, just say the word. Just consider it a gift from one mogul to another.
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