somewhere out there
Somewhere there are people right now, who are happening upon a very funny weblog. It's caustic, it's unexpected, it has several funny punchlines per post.
They laugh, they chuckle, they wonder who this new blogger is with such a snappy design sense and wit. But they won't know who it is, because the blogger is anonymous, and because they don't realize that the anonymous funny blogger is Heather B. Hamilton, a.k.a. in a former internet life as Dooce.
None of them will be able to come tell me, and Heather will continue to be writing her kickass writing and I can't read it. It's an injustice, I tell you.
Oh how I miss the sweet taste of "How to Annoy Me" and "How to Charm Me". I need my Heather B. Hamilton fix.
If you don't know what the hell I'm talking about, then you really need to go right now to the Dooce archives, which are still being maintained. But who knows for how long.
This goes without saying, I know, but if you know of the whereabouts of Heather, please, I beg you, tell me where she is. And to the people who have Emailed me, and have showed up in my referral logs with hopeful searches about constipation and mormonism...I don't know where she is either. Sorry.
A few of my favorite Dooce's, starting with the ones that probably got her fired from her job:
i think i've said something about something
bend your lover's elbow under your karachi, thus stimulating his lower kandahar
rachel's not a dog. she's my little sister
when a weblog takes over your life