The blogosphere sometimes feels like a really popular but kinda cheesy happy hour spot (in San Francisco: think Americano or Circa). Everybody talks and talks about it like it's the best thing since sliced bread, but you often leave wishing you TVO-d last night's The L Word while thinking, yes, people really are that stupid.
Finding useful, well written content in the blogosphere is like shopping for the perfect outfit an hour before the party. When you know what you want and you've got a deadline, you're never going to find it. The blog and shopping Gods just don't work like that.
For example, this past Sunday, I decided I wanted to cook dinner. Cooking dinner means I am not eating cottage cheese while standing in my fridge door or licking big spoonfulls of peanut butter while at my desk. Cooking dinner is a commitment, an activity that requires mental and physical exertion and some serious multitasking. One must study the recipe, turn on ovens and stoves, pull ingredients from cupboards and fridge compartments, use knives, mix things together in different bowels, different pans, under different heats, while setting timers like a mad clock lady, and negotiating verbs like "brown", "broil", and "dice".
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