The Wall Street Journal peeks inside the — controversial! impassioned! and dare we say even more narcissistic than the regular blogosphere! — world that is the mommy blogosphere today, and first of all, we regret to inform you that self-righteous Babble daddyblogger Steve Almond quit last week in a fit of self-righteousness. And I meant to go trolling for more pointless mommyblog controversies with which to display some sort of snarkpower, but then I got sucked into the life of "stay at home mom or Shit Ass Ho Motherfucker" Dooce. Dooce is the superfamous blog of Heather Armstrong, a former "unemployed drunk" and depressive Hills fan and abundant resorter to profanity who got fired for internet indiscretion once and pretty much is the living blogging manifestation of my greatest fear: that not even expelling a human being from one's vagina is enough to make people like me grow up.
She's had to learn to draw boundaries on what she writes, to avoid hurting loved ones. An "aching and bleeding diatribe" she posted a few years ago against her parents' faith, Mormonism, alienated them so badly that "it was like a bomb had gone off in my family," she says. "My dad didn't speak to me for several months, and my mom was devastated." She took down the posts, thinking, "OK, this is a little bit more powerful than I'd thought it would be," she says.
She's since made up with her parents, who were probably shattered by the realization their religion is a lie, but it's not like they were going to learn that lesson in the afterlife. And in all seriousness, she clearly is something of a grownup, because she has nice pictures on her wall that her roommate isn't responsible for:
Maybe because he's been taking Prozac, or maybe it's because of all that HOT HOT SEX, but when I told Jon what I wanted the wall to look like, he said something like, why aim for perfection when approximation is so much easier? Which is the most romantic thing that has ever come out of his mouth, so I pushed him down on the floor and ripped off all his clothes.
Um yeah, there's lots of stuff like that. Why aim for a perfect kicker when approximation of someone else's less hangover-burdened humor is so much easier? Go hang out with this Dooce lady if you want a side of "thoughts" with your profanity today because I drank enough whiskey to kill a fetus last night.