Red Bull, Ice Cream, and Oprah - a Recipe for Philosophical Renderings?

So I finally did see Knocked Up, and had almost completely forgotten about the workplace "battle" between women, which motivated the before-mentioned wonder women host to gather her thoughts and share with others.

The scene took place two times in the movie, at the beginning, when our heroine Allison receives great news, and towards the end, where her meeting yet again proves triumphant. Without ruining too much of the film for those who haven't seen it, the other women in the room repeatedly, and seriously, makes comments which are not wholly outlandish, but certainly unnerving, and precarious towards Allison. The irk is immediately evident.

Call me literal, but it was the women's frank attitude that lended an attractive reality to the situation. A hard-working women gets a promotion which most likely has occurred over 190823590 times in other movies before. The coworker with the comments made the situation original. I got a raise after I cried for an hour, burdened with stress. Not to sound pitiful, but think about translating that into film? Whimpering "thank you, this means so much to me" with reddened eyes.

But what irked me more so, was the way in which the women treated their men. Debbie, Allison's older, and somewhat neurotic, sister blatantly preached to her younger sibling about how she is "conquering" her husband, breaking him down to build him back up again, leaving unwanted personality traits and annoying nuances behind. I should at this time mention that this notion came to Debbie through an Oprah epiphany and intermittent chugging sessions of Red Bull and Hagen Daas. This is reminiscent of hazing.

As the situation evolved, Debbie thought Pete was being unfaithful. In reality, he was sneaking off to play fantasy baseball, and go to the movies. For solitude, for space. Debbie trapped him with her rhetorical, rounding questions, overarching queries as to why he didn't want to do things with her, and why wouldn't he think she wanted to go out? In the end, Pete was given to dutiful title of an asshole. Even Ben, the father-to-be, decided it was so. Poor Pete, I say. Since when did solitude and friends become triggers for assholisism. I'd say I've have to side with Pete on this one.