Love Songs...or Not - A Rebuttal to the Rebuttal

It’s seems I have stumbled upon a topic of interest. Not to be outdone by the infamous e, here are my further musings on the desolate, tonally-void wasteland that comprises contemporary love songs.

More Than Words - Extreme

What would you do if my heart was torn in two
More than words to show you feel
That your love for me is real

If your heart is torn in two, I’m afraid you need more help than I am able to give you, and far more help than words alone can provide. Please place your local emergency service provider on speed dial if this is an actual concern you have regarding your heart. I hear medic alert also offers a wonderful service.

White Houses - Vanessa Carlton

Love, or something ignites in my veins
And I pray it never fades

Oh honey, that’s not love, that’s gonorrhea. You had better pray it fades and then take a good, strong dose of a doctor prescribed anti-bacterial to aid in the process.

Truly Madly Deeply - Savage Garden

I want to stand with you on a mountain.
I want to bathe with you in the sea.
I want to lay like this forever.
Until the sky falls down on me…

Oh, so many complaints in so few lines. Where to begin? First off, I am not bathing in any sea. Do you know what is in the sea? Organisms. I am not taking an organism infested skinny-dip with anyone in the name of love. I’m all for bathing in a general sense, don’t get me wrong, but chlorine and indoor plumbing were invented for a reason - use them.

Moving on, laying in one position for a prolonged period of time, for any reason, is just illogical. Did the writer of this song never hear of bed sores? Biology 101 people, it isn’t that hard. Obviously the song writer found the time to read up on Chicken Little, did the fear derived from this children’s story simply stunt him or her from continuing on in the educational system? The sky isn’t going to fall on anyone anytime soon. Get a grip.

Oh, and one more thing. Do you know what else is in the sea? Fish urine, jelly fish, that damn volleyball from Castaway, all the toxic runoff from New Jersey, and the rotting corpses of one-time Titanic passengers. Ew.

You’re A God - Vertical Horizon

Cause you’re a God
And I am not
And I just thought
That you should know

Why thank you for noticing! For this song I have no complaints, just wanted to stroke my ego a bit.

Bring Me To Life - Evanescence

How can you see into my eyes like open doors
Leading you down into my core
Where I’ve become so numb, without a soul

Without a soul, huh? Dated Jesse McCartney recently?

Girlfriend - Avril Lavigne

You're so fine
I want you mine
You're so delicious
I think about you all the time
You're so addictive

Delicious and addictive? Is he some kind of food byproduct or tolerance inhibiting substance? Chocolate? Caffeine?? Cocaine???

Where Does My Heart Beat Now? - Celine Dion

I don’t even have to move past the title of this one. I sincerely hope your heart is still beating in your chest. If not, you may want to locate Jesse McCartney, I hear he may have a bit of a voodoo, soul-stealing thing going on. Oh wait, if your heart was beating somewhere other than your chest, you wouldn’t have to worry about it…because you’d be dead.

All I Ask Of You - The Phantom of the Opera

Say you love me every waking moment,
turn my head with talk of summertime...
Say you need me with you now and always...
Promise me that all you say is true -
that's all I ask of you...

Every waking moment? Seriously? You need verbal reassurance of my feelings every…waking…moment? I’ll make you a voice recording, you insecure bastard.

Ain’t No Other Man - Christina Aguilera

I had feelings from the start
Couldn't stand to be apart
Something about you caught my eye
Something moved me deep inside

Something moved her deep inside? Was it gastro-intestinal in nature? Walgreen’s is open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. I’m just saying.

Crazy Bitch - Buckcherry

You're a crazy bitch
But you fuck so good, I'm on top of it
When I dream, I'm doing you all night
Scratches all down my back to keep me right on

Well, isn’t this just the pinnacle of romance? With lyrics like these, it’s quite possible that Buckcherry may even give that silver-tongued master of love, Ludacris, a run for his money.

Speaking of Ludacris…

What’s Your Fantasy - Ludacris

I wanna, li-li-li-lick you from yo' head to yo' toes
And I wanna, move from the bed down to the down to the to the flo'
Then I wanna, ahh ahh - you make it so good I don't wanna leave
But I gotta, kn-kn-kn-know what-what's your fan-ta-ta-sy

My personal fantasy is to end an evening not covered in your spit. Thanks.

And I don’t care, I love Peter Gabriel's In Your Eyes. What, like opera is so much better? Scroll up, I’ve included a little opera in my analysis. You know, the phantom of. Yeah, that’s what I thought.

River. Bottom of. (You know I'm talking to you)

~the retro housewife

Love Songs...or Not

Ah, love songs. We all know them when we hear them. Some are good (Peter Gabriel’s In Your Eyes comes to mind), some are bad (any song by any American Idol® winner - that's right, I'm talking to you Clarkson - comes to mind), and then some are just plain frightening. May I suggest, as the forerunner in this final category, Jesse McCartney’s Beautiful Soul? Ignore the angelic, pre-pubescent vocals and big-eyed, Precious Moments® style appearance of the singer, for just one moment, and focus on the actual lyrics of this pop music gem:

I don't want another pretty face
I don't want just anyone to hold
I don't want my love to go to waste
I want you and your beautiful soul

I know that you are something special
To you I'd be always faithful
I want to be what you always needed
Then I hope you'll see the heart in me

[Chorus:]
I don't want another pretty face
I don't want just anyone to hold
I don't want my love to go to waste
I want you and your beautiful soul
You're the one I wanna chase
You're the one I wanna hold
I wont let another minute go to waste
I want you and your beautiful soul

You might need time to think it over
But I'm just fine moving forward
I'll ease your mind
If you give me the chance
I will never make you cry c`mon let's try

[Chorus]

Am I crazy for wanting you?
Maybe do you think you could want me too?
I don't wanna waste your time
Do you see things the way I do?
I just wanna know that you feel it too
There is nothing left to hide

[Chorus 2x]

Ooooooo
Beautiful Soul, yeah
Oooooo, yeah
Your beautiful soul
Yeah

What kind of pseudo-vampiristic, mentally disturbed, Antichrist-wannabe came up with these lyrics? Remove the word “beautiful” from the chorus and you are left with an effeminate, Aryan, boybander reject crying out for the souls of tweenage fangirls everywhere. What, does he store them in jars somewhere? Does he have some kind of voodoo side-gig going just in case the whole pop stardom thing fails?

But back to the matter at hand; how is this horrific mockery of misplaced sentiment a love song? Scratch that, how does this even pass for music? You want me and my soul? I’m sorry, that’s part of a package deal. Frankly, you aren’t getting anywhere near either of us.


~the retro housewife

form and function - where the fashion industry fails

I have always been a form-follows-function kind of gal. If something is going to be in existence, than it should damn well have some purpose other than mere space occupation. It is just good, sound logic; we live on a planet with a finite amount of space, therefore the objects occupying said space should have purpose for doing so. A purpose and a function. You wouldn’t put a random pillar, unconnected to either floor or ceiling, in the center of your living room. You wouldn’t drive a sedan with a fifth tire that lightly skims the road as you drive. You wouldn’t buy a mitt that skins potatoes when you have a drawer full of perfectly good knives. Form should follow function.

Why then do some women insist on wearing tacky, oversized, ugly and unpurposeful belts? A belt is not a complicated article of clothing, it only has two functions - to hold up your pants or to cinch your waist (and I’m not even entirely sure about the latter). So what, then, is the function of these abhorrent, gigantic, and inevitably mismatched wastes of material that pass as wide waist belts? They aren’t holding up pants. They aren’t cinching the waist (they are, however, making it look bigger by drawing all attention to it). As for their decorative qualities, this look is even less classy than the hip-jiggling hula girl glued to the dashboard of all NYC taxis.

So I ask you, is there a purpose, a reason, for this hideous,

functionless,

fashion paux pas?

Yes my friends, there is a reason; it is called Crystal Meth and we all know that drugs are bad.

The moral of today’s story: unless you are a pro wrestler or suffering from a hernia, leave the wide waist belts alone.

~ the retro housewife

Children: A Guidebook

Children. When are these things going to go out of style? They’re loud, they’re dirty, they emit strange odors, and they’re far too mobile to be used as an effective accessory. In fact, children are similar in nature to the Ford Pinto; a cute but impractical idea that always ends up causing more grief and costing more money than absolutely necessary. Like the Pinto, Don Imus’s stock, and any computer technology marketed before 1995, children are simply a bad investment. They are also not dishwasher safe.

That said, until cloning processes are perfected, it seems children will remain a necessary evil of society. This does not mean, however, that the act of child possession and rearment should be without rules. Thus I am happy to present the Retro Housewife’s guide to parasitology (also known as parenthood):


10. You may think your specimen’s baby pictures are adorable. They aren’t. Save your friends and colleagues the trouble of avoiding you; burn the pictures.

9. There are leash laws in nearly every state for canines. I have yet to see a toddler come when called, sit, beg, roll over, or play dead. This speaks to the superior nature of dogs. Don’t insult man’s best friends by reinforcing a biased double standard; leash your offspring.

8. What’s more annoying than a toddler babbling in high-pitched baby gibberish? Nothing. Discourage language acquirement and use.

7. Children are rather like parrots. If you must teach them to speak, at least teach them phrases that will amuse your friends and family.

6. You know how children ask a thousand and one questions about everything? Answer each question in the same manner, with a somber look, a low voice, and a firm reply of “Because the dominant ideology has made it so.”

5. Do not child proof your home. There is no reason why early life shouldn’t be like everything else - survival of the fittest.

4. Shopping carts come equipped with child restraints for a reason; use them. Do not let the thing run haphazardly through a store unsupervised. You’re just begging for someone to kick it.

3. If it’s under the age of 12, it doesn’t belong in a movie theater. Period.

2. Children and restaurants don’t mix. If a person wisely decides not to have children, than that person obviously doesn’t want to be subjected to yours, especially not while eating. Just remember, if leaving your child in the car while patronizing a restaurant, make sure to crack a window.

1. If it is still confined to a mobile device, more commonly called a stroller, than for the love of all that’s holy, do not take it to an amusement park! It will be too young to remember the trip, your trip will be spent lugging it around like an oversized department store bag, and you will be known throughout the park as The Douche Bag Who Keeps Running Into The Backs Of People’s Legs With Your Stupid-Ass Stroller. You don’t want that moniker, trust me. People will mock you both behind your back and, if they’re like me, to your face. Save yourself the embarrassment.

~the retro housewife

Writer Profile: The Retro Housewife

The Retro Housewife was born Sue Ann Marie Barbara Jean Wilson on August 14, 1941 in Casper, Wyoming. The daughter of a ruggedly masculine sheriff and her demurely erudite husband, The Retro Housewife took an early and girlishly appropriate interest in those aspects of American art and culture which are so comfortably reminiscent of 18th century thought and tradition. A voracious reader of books, the young Housewife took a special liking to the tragically romantic works of the Frenchman Victor Hugo, most notably his seminal novel "The Hunchback of Notre Dame," from whose dog-eared pages she would later would take her inspiration when selecting a mate.

After earning her Bachelor of Arts degree in English Literature from We-Read-Good College, The Retro Housewife found herself still without a bread-winning spouse. Wisely hedging her bets, she took refuge in post-graduate education, where she is currently spouse-hunting while enrolled as a graduate student in Communication. Unfortunately for The Retro Housewife and her spousal pursuits, The Retro Housewife is an intellectual genius and a brilliant writer, but as we all know, a thinking woman doesn’t attract real men! The Retro Housewife’s star sign is Leo. She likes movies, Infusium 23 shampoo, postmodernist interpretive dance, and playing second fiddle to any man who’s brave enough to play first.