I'm back I'm back... See, you know Sarko dumped me. So according to the B&N ivillage style mainstream (armchair) psychologist's relationship advice, I must either go buy a cargo of bubble bath soap, lavender bath salt, exfoliating body scrub, Dead Sea mud mask, cucumber peeling mask, human embryo lip booster, Egyptian mummy eye mask, toe nail aloe vera, cream cheese anti-bacterial hand wash, tranquil mint underarm shave creme, surgeon-knife-sharp stainless steel tweeser (life-long free sharpening), tub-round aromatherapeutic scented Jesus candles (no Jehovah's Witnesses flavor cuz they smell even worse geez...), marsupial rejuvenating facial moisturizer, eucalyptus spearmint foot treatment; book a vacation in Club Med; learn a new language or lose 20lb, right?
But it's not like I didn't take a shower this morning; I've just come back from a vacation; I'm already learning my 3rd language; and if I'm 20lb lighter I must be very ill. So what does any of these "chick reads" do for me?
Sometimes I really wonder if all those women's self-help books are secretly published by Bath and Body Works if not Kiehl's. Haven't all scorned women washed themselves in the past ten years? Why do recovery and healing always have something to do with personal hygiene? Can society encourage heartbroken women, women of low self esteem, dysfunctional women to actually get their asses up and do SOMETHING other than take a damn long shower for heaven's sake?! Getting the chicks to the spa is called "self-love"? Wait wait, hold on here. I may not know about the Caucus or if an airliner crashed into the Pentagon as much as the smart educated folks but speaking of chick stuff, you can't fool me honey; I know quite well that's consumerism and patriarchy in disguise.
It's painfully sickening to even just witness this kind of pseudo-female-empowering / pseudo-Feminist mainstream chick culture. Do these "make yourself pretty then run into him in a party" advisors all have their brains between their legs and live in Orange County? Incredible.
Will I write a book about defecating if somebody pays me $50,000? Sure, why not, everybody has to pay rent. But to make themselves big by confusing, mis-leading, mentally manipulating and hurting the ego of the women that are already suffering, in hell, confused, is just low. For a man with a nauseous face like Greg Behrendt, I won't even let him open my car door; don't even mention his "advice". Believing anything such a man says is as stupid as believing in Atkins while he died obese himself. In Downtown Chick's jurisdiction, what people like Greg Behrendt do is on about the same level as pedophilic crime or molesting the developmentally disabled.
I was about to suspect the wife's eyesight who co-writes with him but then you see, a picture is worth a thousand words. Dude, what a couple. It's beyond belief this kind of losers represent this country's celebrity level icons of relationship related nonfiction literature and people see him as "funny" and "witty". I mean, sheesh, even a McDonald's double cheese burger is of a better taste than them. Disgusting.