First, let me just say I have never been more happy to be heading back to school. In ONE week, I will be leaving this hellholish excuse for a city behind, and more importantly summer school. I have discovered that I absolutely HATE summer classes, and I’d sooner chop off a tit than take another one.

Anyway, it seems irony loves to visit me, not that that’s a new condition. This morning I was driving to class and this really crappy morning show was taking a break from yapping about a whole lot of not-a-damn-thing to play an equally crappy song (“Boys and Girls”or whatever by Good Charlotte. Jeez they have issues. I hated their other song “Lifestyles of the Rich and the Famous,” and this one’s even worse. For those of you who haven’t heard it, the chorus goes something like “girls don’t like boys, girls like cars and money.” My response? “boys don’t like girls, boys like sex and blow jobs.” Anyway, I digress…) As I was saying this crappy song was playing, and every other radio station was in the midst of even crappier morning shows, so in an act of desperation, I jabbed the AM/FM button, preparing to listen to sports radio, when lo and behold, I discovered a second FM set of presets. Before I could begin sobbing at the idea of wasting more time programming stations I’ll never listen to (or want to listen to, for that matter,) I noticed that a GOOD song was playing. The previous owner had programmed in some station, I’d never heard of; I’d assumed the Point was the only alternative station we had, but this station was playing Foo Fighters, which made them two steps short of divine in my book. Anyway, as “Times Like These” ended, I was prepared to be bombarded with a slew of station IDs, or an obnoxious DJ on a stupid morning show, or ten minutes of commercials, but NO! Instead the music moved seamlessly to another song, This one I’d never heard before, but it was GOOD. Then a normal sounding DJ came on, announced what song it was, and went back to playing music. I almost orgasmed with joy. There was no chintzy cheesy morning show at all! I listened to music with only TWO commercials for my entire 30 minute commute. Not two commercial breaks, just two commercials, period. The DJ didn’t talk a lot, just announced the name and artist of the occasional song. So I was thinking that maybe it was a start up station, and they hadn’t gotten all their DJ’s together yet, and didn’t have a lot of sponsors, but NO! Later in the day I hear a rare station promo. This station plays as much music as possible, with as few commercials. To do so, they gave up corny DJs and tons of lame promotional events and even decent station IDs. I’m so happy I could cry. The only downside is that I would find the absolute best radio station in the city a week before I leave. Not to mention the fact that I feel like an idiot for not noticing that there were two FM presets on my radio. Ah well. I’ll be in driving heaven all week.

Speaking of radio, so there’s this commercial for some tech school in the area that’s been playing on OTHER radio stations a lot recently (Thanks a ton Clear Channel!), and anyway, part of it goes something like this: “When your check engine light goes on, you A: freak out, or B: CHECK the engine.” Why do I bring this up, you ask? Because it’s the first thing that came to my mind when I read the definition of a metrosexual man. It seemed to be the perfect example of the difference between these so-called metrosexuals, and the type of man I want.

When I read Derrick’s blog about his proud metrosexuality, I had no clue what he was talking about, so I looked it up. Apparently metrosexual is a term to describe the new “softer” straight man, who cares about his appearance, and spends (excessive) money on clothes and skin care products (occasionally makeup), and who enjoys things like the opera (eww) and more cultured events than the man of the past. Thewordspy.com’s definition was: “A dandyish narcissist in love with not only himself, but also his urban lifestyle.”

Now I have no problem at all with metrosexual men. Many of my friends are metrosexual (although none of them wear makeup as far as I know. (slides glance at Derrick). And I would prefer never to know. EVER). Additionally, many of the “meterosexual” characteristics such as wearing jewlery and caring about their appearance, are things that many men dripping with machismo already do. My problem goes back to the engine light. It seems that so many straight men these days have become such overly sensitive pansies, that their balls have shriveled up to the size of a pea. You know, the wrinkly kind that come in dried soup mixes. Is it too much to ask for a manly man?

Some of my friends once told me that my fanstasy man is the kind of guy who’ll beat the crap out of me, order me around, and be chauvinistic, but that’s just not true. Without sounding too much like a personal ad, I have to say that I just want a guy who’s open-minded, listens, and isn’t sexist or racist, but I also want him to burp and scratch himself and watch football with me on Sundays, and not want to talk about his damn feelings all the freakin’ time. Nobody minds sensitivity once in a while, but I want someone who’s going to roll his eyes at chick flicks, not someone who’ll ask me for another tissue. Someone who’ll gag if I mention opera, not clap his (manicured) hands, and jump up and down with glee. Someone who’ll open the hood and CHECK THE DAMN ENGINE! Even if he only has a vague idea about the inner workings of cars, he’ll check it out, as opposed to some sensitive metrosexual who’ll completely spazz and piss his pants before running away to call the mechanic.

I’m not talking about a Neanderthal who desn’t believe in keeping up with current events, fights any thing that looks at him wrong, makes sexist/racist jokes and is homophobic. But is it too much to ask for a guy who’s not a pussy? Something with a little testosterone, perhaps? Metrosexuals are well and good to go shopping with, or just hang out with in general, isn’t there some kind of middle ground? Something somewhere between the realms of metrosexual and asshole chauvinist would be nice. Paula Cole once asked where all the cowboys have gone. Substitute “testicles” for “cowboys” and you’ll understand how I feel.

Sigh. Please no self proclaimed metrosexuals get offened by this; I don’t mean to say that you’re any less masculine or straight (btw, there are many gay guys who’ll check the engine so don’t go thinking “metrosexual” and “homosexual” are related terms.) All I’m saying is that you metroguys are a little too….refined for my tastes, and I use words like “pussy” in the nicest way possible.

Anyway, I’ve noticed that I’ve had to start issuing disclaimers at the end of these. I don’t know whether it’s a sign that I’m trying to be more PC, or a sign that other people are just too serious, and I don’t feel like putting up with their being all offended and crap. Ah well. At this point, I actually really don’t care. Whatever. If you’re still offended, it’s your problem. Get over it. I don’t have time to soothe any more bruised egos.