On the warpath again: Reasons why TOADM’s moms did a really bad job.

If you have Charter or U-Verse or anything like that, you probably are familiar with the “Music Choice” channels. Most of our friends know that we’re pretty big rock/metal fans, though I’ll admit to playing the “Jazz” and “Light Classical” segments just as much, if not more often, than I blare Nine Inch Nails or Five Fingered Death Punch. But this morning, just as we were getting the kiddo bundled up for a frigid run, we heard this fabulous new ditty on the rock channel: “B**** Came Back,” by Theory of a Deadman (hereafter indicated as TOADM). Now, I don’t know if you’re familiar at all with punchline intense talent that is TOADM, but just so you can get the full picture of this brilliant lyrical creation, here’s how it goes:

The —– came back the very next day
Oh, the —– came back, I thought she was a goner
But, the —– came back, she couldn’t stay away
Don’t you know the —– came back?

I like her so much better when she’s down on her knees
Cause when she’s in my face that’s when I’m starting to see
That all my friends will laugh at thinking that we’d be wrong
Well she’s so f—–‘ stupid that she’s singing along

The trouble with girls is they’re all the same
Forget the diamonds and pearls they just want a ring
Before you know it you’re like a dog on a leash
Well you can try and change the world but you won’t change me

The —– came back the very next day
Oh, the —– came back, I thought she was a goner
But, the ——came back, she couldn’t stay away
Don’t you know the —– came back?

There she goes again just always breaking my balls
No matter what I do somehow it’s always my fault
She says I must be cheating cause I turned off my phone
But that’s the only frickin’ way she’ll leave me alone

The trouble with girls is is never enough
They love to complain and they never shut up
They like to tell you the way it ought to be
Go on and tell the world but just don’t tell me

The —– came back the very next day
Oh, the —– came back, I thought she was a goner
But, the —– came back, she couldn’t stay away
Don’t you know the —– came back?

Really, this is brilliant stuff. What an effective cover-up for such clear ineptitude at…well, life. You see, there’s this entire segment of the current generation of men now who have apparently stopped maturing at the age of about 13 or 14 – and unfortunately, friends, TOADM is the kind of thing that happens. I think the emotional/intellectual self-conversation would have to go something like this:

“Self, what shall I do with my life? Let’s see…I barely scored a 620 on the SAT (spelled my name wrong…again!), and I’ve flunked half the coursework to get an interdisciplinary studies “certificate” at the local adult night school. Mom and dad are going to kick me out if I don’t get a job by the time I’m 27! What’s a loser like me to do? Oh, I know! I’ll start a band with my other shiftless buddies and write insipid songs about how women are the source of ALL my problems (not the fact that I’m a waste of cells, space, resources, and oxygen!)! Yeah! Girls suck!”

So you end up with junk like this, a misogynistic anthem of woman hatred, penned by guys who have no real talent other than being able to convert oxygen to carbon dioxide while hold a guitar. Or a microphone. Or a tune. Revolutionary stuff, folks. I’m also going to assume, from the sounds of it, that these halfwits have really poor taste in women. Just an inkling, not sure where I picked it up (could’ve also been a deduction from all their other gems, like “Low Life” or “Bad Girlfriend”). The sad part is that, maybe circa 2004 or 2005, these guys didn’t actually sound like the poor man’s version of Nickelback that they are today (didn’t know there could be such a thing, did you?). In fact, I *might* have had one or two of their songs on my MP3 player back in junior year. That said, TOADM’s lead singer still sounded exactly like Chad Kroeger, which is sad, because the poor d-bag actually looks more like a cross between Elvis and Justin Bieber. It’s a funny thing to behold.

You know, hearing stuff like this makes me really appreciate my husband more than I usually do (which is to say, a lot – he’s amazing). My husband was raised by a ball-busting, no-crap-taking, call-it-like-she-sees-it sort of woman. She has a Jamie Lee Curtis haircut, and is two inches taller than you. Jonathan’s dad was no sissy when he picked her – he knew there’d be arguments that she’d win, and he knew she would knock him into next week if he ever tried to pull a Chris Brown/Rihanna on her (not that he’d ever dream of it – turns out, his mother raised him better than that, too).

I was raised by a similar pair of bad asses. My mom can run with the big dogs – she wouldn’t have snagged my dad if she was some meek, lowly woman. This probably accounts for why she and I really butted heads in my teens and early 20s – because we were cut from the same cloth, and people who are similar often have the hardest time accepting one another. Something about looking in the mirror and seeing our own flaws doesn’t always set well with us.

In the mean time, here I am married to basically the only guy who could ever accept me. I know I’m a bitter pill, people. You have to know that was one of my top 5 goals in life, to be the kind of woman that my husband had to have a set in order to deal with. I think that makes me choosy, not difficult! 😉 And whilst my husband’s male coworkers compete over who is the most whipped of them all, I have to chuckle to myself, “Really?” Let’s see, one of ya looks like Paul Giamatti (that’s not a compliment) and swears he’ll “Never give in and get married,” while the other one spends all his time paying to put up his wife’s entire extended family for months at a time. Please, compete on. What. The. Crap. Jonathan says the conversations make for a good laugh, because the whole time he’s thinking “Wow. My wife is pretty cool.”

That, by the way, was an actual quote from Wilhoit. You can ask him.

But my point is this: Real men don’t gun for an easy catch, a quiet girl who will just cook and have babies and not argue about anything. Real men seek out women with strength, spirit, soul – women who will tell them when they’re wrong, and love them regardless. Women who will seek to edify them, but won’t shrink from putting their foot down when the time comes. Real men simply do not seek out what amounts to a slightly more animated version of a blow-up doll with vital stats. They want someone with a little bite, a little life in them. Someone who isn’t so washed of all their spirit that they just sit there like some 1950s douche advertisement heroine.

At least, that’s how I was raised. And luckily, that’s how my husband was raised. And it’s a pretty safe bet that our children will be raised that way.

Which is how I know something is amiss with anyone who thinks that this approach to the male-female relationship is normal or healthy in any way whatsoever. A healthy relationship is a lot like a business partnership in that you don’t want to be in a partnership with someone who is financially weaker or less apt for leadership than you are. If anything, you want to be in a partnership with someone who is on similarly solid or perhaps even stronger ground. You go into life together, you make these decisions together, and you experience all the consequences and results of this partnership together.

These guys from TOADM actually make me think of a couple of guys I used to know back in college who often argued in favor of the superiority of men. I remember one encounter with one of them where he physically got in my face for making a decision at work about ____ (insert issue where he was obviously more qualified by virtue of having a “dangly”). He couldn’t believe it when I threw a full Nalgene bottle at his head and told him what he could do with it (and if you’re thinking “She did that to me once,” don’t get all excited. It’s happened more than once. You are not special.). I never claimed to be “fair and balanced,” people. And besides, that was, like, EONS ago. Clearly, I’d never do something like that now…*wink*.

There were more of those types. One is still alone. The other guy is, far as I know, still alone. And then one of them is in jail. Oh, and alone.

And I think that pretty much says it all. These guys are what is ruining the world – little boys stomping around in big boy boots and yelling. Those are the guys. They’re the guys that raise girls with daddy issues. These are the guys who raise little boys who grow up to beat their wives. These are the guys who think “No” actually means “Yes,” and that “she was asking for it” if she’s wearing anything less than a turtleneck. These are the guys who helped plunge our economy into the crapper because they lack any semblance of personal responsibility or fiscal/common sense. These are the guys who whine to their buddies about how their wives “make them babysit,” i.e. take care of their spawn on occasion. For the love of all that’s holy, you want me to commit to not sleeping with my secretary, AND you want me to actually fulfill some semblance of fatherly obligations? What are you woman, a crazy person?!

To put it bluntly: These are little boys, masquerading around in their daddies’ big boys undies and yelling “Girls are stupid! Throw rocks at them!” And thankfully, it looks like those dimwits are getting less and less chances to procreate (I’m telling you folks, there IS a God). Though I have to say, I’ve inadvertently had to sit through their opening act for another band (it wasn’t my favorite show ever, let’s just say), and I’m kind of disturbed at the number of teenage chicklets who wear very little, go stand in the pit, and then remove what little they have on in order to “offer” themselves to these little boy. Girls, you’re not helping, and you’re certainly not winning any respect.

So clearly I’m exactly the type of chick they’re harping on, which is why I’m so excited for this opportunity!!

I’m just going to continue to do the things that tick guys like these off and turn my husband on (because, it turns out, he’s not dead inside like the dudes from TOADM). You know how I’m going to do it? By doing exactly what they hate. You know – breathing, reading things (and probably at a much higher grade level than them), having B cup boobies, etc. I’m going to continue wearing garments that fall in that grey area of normalcy located somewhere between a burka and a plastic dress with stripper shoes. I’m going to continue voting, saying whatever pops into my crazy little head, and occasionally telling my husband that I don’t feel like cooking (though not very often…I really like cooking). And if you think I’m a nasty piece of work, just wait until you meet my future hypothetical daughter. Version 2.0 is really going to be something. 😉

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