Profiles In Douchebagette-ery

I have nothing against Stephanie Klein personally. Hell, I don't even know her. But as I was clicking my way across the blogiverse recently, I stumbled across her blog "Greek Tragedy: Stories of My Life". Her self-absorbed whining about dating is just another example of a growing cliche among female writers: the Wannabe Carrie Bradshaw Syndrome.

What is Carrie Bradshaw Syndrome? I've sort of touched on this before, but the huge success of "Sex and the City" has spawned a legion of deluded, completely talentless hackette "writers" who seem determined to turn their own failures in love into some kind of cute, clever narrative that will garner them fame and fortune, as it did for Candace Bushnell (CB's creator and alter-ego).

While thousands of these discount-desiger-clothing-clad fashionista wannabes sit smugly outside of the Conde Naste building with their horn-rimmed glasses, tapping out an endless ocean of words on their iBooks in an attempt to solve the great mysteries of their miserable love lives, not a single one of them seems to have the wherewithal figure out the obvious, simple answer to their infinite stream of cutesy-carrie rhetorical questions -- either He's Just Not That Into You. Or you're far too self-obsessed for anyone to ever want to even think about dating you. Duh.

Blogging, by nature, is a self-indulgent past-time, so I'm not without guilt. But here at BlaggBlogg, you'll not find an "About Me" section where I brag about the time I had dinner with Jack Nicholson and he didn't speak to me (perhaps because I'm hopelessly uninteresting?) or about the time when I was outside the bathroom at some bar and That Dude Who Plays Mr. Big On Sex and the City asked me out (okay, said he wanted to fuck me in the back of his rented limo, but whatever).

One might misconstrue my criticism as self-righteous resentment, but again, this is not an attack on Stephanie Klein, just the unoriginal, lazy gaggle of female writers who would rather try to ride the feeble-minded media wave of Carrie Bradshaw-esqueness than actually tell an interesting, honest or original story.

But hey, I'm not the one being ignored by Jack Nicholson.