W1: My cable wouldn't work this morning, so don't ask me about the weather

There is a particular radio show I listen to for a few minutes every morning on my way to Starbucks. It never fails to get my brain firing and my anger juices flowing. Sure, this isn't the healthiest way to wake up, but it works and I use my Mayer-therapy to calm me down afterwards. Anyway, this morning there was a female guest who was asked by some (self-loathing douche bag) caller to tell him to "shut his face" in the meanest tone she could muster. She announced the phrase at a pitch almost inaudible to humans, then followed it with an airy giggle and an apology, "I am so bad at being mean!" Anytime a girl says she "is so bad at being mean," I want to smash her face into the nearest countertop. Not just because I am really good at being mean, but because she is full of shit. I guarangoddamntee you that if anyone called that girl fat/slutty/fake, she would become really good at being mean. What she meant to say is that she is not good at being mean to boys. This is because she is afraid that being mean might tarnish their image of her as a flaxen-haired trick pony, ready to be ridden at a moment's notice with nothing but words of praise and juicy kisses waiting anxiously in her mouth. If she had the slightest glimmer of mean in her eyes, the men might be afraid to approach her and sing lengthy odes about her overwhelming sweetness while they felt up her ass. What is a woman if she isn't sweet, a sugary fucking pile of tits and ass ready for the taking? She is a scary bitch who might just throw herself off the Pedestal of Nudity, put on some jeans and a bra, and tell a man to fuck off unless he had something worthwhile to contribute to her life, and I am not talking about a fat wallet or back massages.