I know, I know, East Coast. I said I’d post on Wednesday. I worked on 3 different drafts today, but nothing got finished. Pringles has an internal alarm that senses when I’m working and goes off in the form of waking, whining, or wandering into danger.
I’ve been following the Dooce vs. PartyPants drama on both GOMI and Dooce. It adds a fascinating layer to the onion blossom that is the Armstrong Divorce Saga. I’ve been a Dooce reader for years. Like two of them. She pioneered this thing I’m doing right now (blogging – not eating peanut butter M&Ms and watching “Survivor”). I’m surprised to see her respond to a gossip site with such anger and vehemence. Most successful people don’t dignify their critics with responses. I’m sure that’s difficult to do, but they don’t call it the high road for nothing. I wonder, as usual, what the real story is. Heather claimed she needed a blog break and GOMI posted a blurb saying she was lying. It was fake; because HA was filming a project in L.A. I also read that a woman claimed she saw HA at Coachella. I think that’s like Burning Man Light, yes? Or is it the other way around? Burning Man is Coachella for little bitches? All I know is my husband would love to go to either one because he loves boobies.
The name conjurs up a roach stagecoach in my brain. It isn’t pretty. I don’t know if that sighting was real, or what jorts are. I didn’t see an obscenity sprinkled post from Dooce telling Twitter girl the definition of libel. Amazing what a letter from a lawyer can do. Dooce became Dooce fighting The Man. Now Dooce IS The Man. A true American success story. Like Joseph Smith.
Damn it, the baby woke up. 11:10 my time. What do you know? I kept my word.