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Heather, breath of musty air, has found the solution to shivering in her mansion – go on another trip. After taking a moment to mock her daughter’s card, Dooce evidently boarded a plane to spend Valentine’s Day in New York City:
…where I took some time to sleep and eat and wander around aimlessly like a proper tourist, forcing myself to release what had become some sort of death grip on the sails of life and work and the idea of my future.
In order to cope with the neverending stress of being Dooce, she did touristy things like take pictures of men standing in front of subways and hanging around the Empire State Building, which is obviously how most mothers want to spend their Valentine’s Day.
If this is “the winter where I’m doing the best I can to save money on my heating bill”, why is she spending money to jaunt off to NYC for a Valentine’s Day “sleep and eat”? I mean, she never says anymore why she takes all these trips but since she states that all she did was eat, sleep, and mosey around being a tourist contemplating the Titanic that is her life and brand, one assumes this is something she paid for herself.
Which…honestly, fine, whatever. She can spend her money on what she wants. Mostly *I* want to know why can’t she sleep in her own house? She’s constantly running off to hotels to “sleep”. Either that house is sitting on an evil burial ground and she truly is unable to get a blink of sleep for weeks at a time, or she’s not taking all these trips just to “sleep”.
While millions of people sat alone on February 13th wondering how to avoid the next day, Heather Armstrong, mansion buyer, sat staring at a card from her daughter. Ever the loving, accepting, uncritical mother, Dooce proceeded to post her feelings about her daughter’s effort for the internet to read:
My favorite part is that I have no neck. My head is just attached to my torso. And it’s as wide as my torso. And my skirt is so short that you can see my perfectly square lady parts. Just focus on that and you won’t freak out about the fact that I have no feet.
I get that this is her schtick – complaints or sarcasm about absolutely everything – but just once couldn’t she just say “thank you darling, it’s wonderful”, stick it on the fridge, and spare her child yet another public round of her snark? The time to mock this sort of thing is when she’s 20 and then you pull the card out and privately lol at it together. But right now she’s a little kid. Give her a damn break, lady.
This morning when I checked the weather on my phone it said it was nine degrees outside…This is not normal for Utah, and it just happens to be the winter where I’m doing the best I can to save money on my heating bill. The heat is on in the girls’ rooms and in the living room where they spend most of their time. However, I do not have heat in my bedroom or bathroom. The thermostat last night said it was 51 degrees in there.
Of course it could be as simple as Dooce trying to minimize the wastefulness of heating the unused rooms in her mansion. But considering it was this side of two years ago that the New York Times was estimating dooce.com made “an estimated $30,000 to $50,000 a month or more”, one has to wonder if this is a sign that the Dooce media empire is winding down.
In news that shocked absolutely no one, Mr. and Mrs. Dooce finally decided to publicly announce their impending divorce. Via matching press release type posts on their respective websites, the Armstrongs preemptively shut down any discussion on the matter:
We know that due to the public nature of what we do that there will be speculation as to the details concerning this decision, however we will not host any discussion of this matter on any of the sites we own…As always, feel free to contact us privately should you have questions or concerns.
I’m pretty sure the entire world knew where this was heading, but for those of you who needed more confirmation than Jon’s vagueposts there you go.
Jon Armstrong, serial vagueblogger, is vagueblogging again. Shortly after helping his estranged wife reinvent her dying site, Mr. Dooce began posting his latest round of obtuse affirmations that sound like something ripped from an Oprah book club selection. Evidently that hasn’t gotten him enough e-hugs from the crowd of slobbering middle aged women in his comments, because he stepped it up to a full blown post of “huh?”
Slowly, ever slowly, I feel it coming on.
It has been a long time coming. And by long I mean at least a decade, probably more.
Affirmation: I define myself. No one else.
While I have to admit his post is amazing if you picture it being read by William Shatner, I’m confused by his constant “maybe I’m talking about Dooce, maybe I’m talking about Adult Swim, maybe I’m talking about my ska band” posts. And while he claims “I appreciate your desire to want to know more, but I’m not posting here for pageviews. I’m posting because I find a great deal of joy in sharing what I share” I think we can all agree that if that were the case, there wouldn’t be ads and an “order a print of my latest experiment in blur” link underneath every picture.
So are these vagueposts really just a cry for pageviews? Is he rattled after spending time with Dooce doing a redesign that about 50% of the world doesn’t like? Has he finally met someone new? And finally, why can’t bloggers just say what they mean instead of vagueblogging/vaguetweeting?