Man, I feel like (telling) a woman

An intimate reflection from Audrey

I have noticed that, recently, I have had some very deep conversations with men.

They have frequently taken place at the Usual Spot. They have also taken place at small dinner parties (including my own), hockey parties in private homes and bars (Go Sens Go!), and even at weddings (esp. while eating yummy Greek food).

As well, I have had these conversations during vacations in Europe with friends, in e-mail messages, and on the phone.

It seems that, these days, my male friends and I are always cautioning each other, don't blog this, before launching into a detailed story. We seem to be opening up more to each other. It seems that we suddenly all know about each others' salaries and mortgages and love lives and, unfortunately, angst.

In the past, only my boyfriends would have intimate discussions with me. They would tell me of the girlfriend who left them for their best friend, of the father who beat them, of the impact on them when their parents divorced or when one of their parents passed away suddenly, of their financial and career worries.

My other male friends would discuss romances, family, work, and money, but only on a very general level. (My women friends and I have always had these intimate conversations - especially when we have been trying to figure out men!)

However, now my eyes have been opened to the fact that men worry about the same things that my women friends and I worry about!

Men worry about:
1. Why a love interest only wants to be friends with them;
2. How they should treat a love interest if that love interest is already in a relationship, but if there is undeniable chemistry between them;
3. What are the appropriate levels of intimacy with a love interest;
4. How long they should stay in their present job.
5. How to dress well, without appearing to have made any effort;
6. How to take care of friends and family members who are going through a tough time;
7. If they should rent or buy. And, if they wish to buy, should they buy a family-sized house if they are single;
8. If they should have children, get married, settle down;
9. What is the best way to live a meaningful life; and
10. How to get over a broken heart.

Have I changed, or have men?

Say it ain't so, Pho. . .

Oh my... chagrin (deep) and despondency (utter). How could they? Post-last-call gourmets, gourmands and fur-bearin' varmints alike among the ESIs demand to know the meaning of this! For goodness' sake!

After we waxed all exuberant about Mr Pho on Elgin Street's felicitously diverse menu, they deleted poutine from the sign.

If this was the other side of the Ottawa River, perhaps we could see the twitchy hands of the infamous Language Police. But those particular officious bureaucratic twits do not patrol here. Yet. We have plenty of others.

And anyhoo, if I recall my colonial-era geopolitics correctly, Viet Nam and France once had a close relationship, such that decades later, the (heh...) lingua franca of that country is still pretty much French. It's a French Fact.

So why is there not room on Mr Pho's shiny new sign for peaceful coexistence, a diplomatic detente for the two great solitudes of Pho and Poutine? Tasty, tasty solitudes.... I digress.

One hesitates, in these benighted times and in this context, to stir up the currently-loaded term 'reasonable accommodation'. Yet it seems to my dust-glazed approximately-amber prairie eyes that, indeed, nothing on that sign replaces the deliciousity that is poutine. Except, well, a sad, sad blank space, pretty much exactly the right size for the word 'poutine'...

Why can't they all just get along again? I mean, it's not like the remaining Pho (...well, 'noodle soup'...), Pad Thai and Shawarma are exactly kissin' culinary cousins. So what happened? Enquiring minds need to pho... ummm, know...

Let's give AndrewZRX more help

We haven't heard from AndrewZRX for a while. I suspect he has blogger's block. I also suspect that, with the wide range of things he could write about in his one posting on our blog, he doesn't know what he should go with.

That is why I have placed a poll in the side bar. Please take a moment to read the list and vote for your choices.

I believe I can add items to the list until the poll closes, so feel free to suggest additions in the comments to this posting.

Emergency Meeting Minutes: 2007-11-09 Part 2 - Megan's Terms of Reference

Venue: The Usual Spot
Present: Fourth Dwarf, Coyote, Agatha, Conch Shell, the Chair
Absent with notice: Independent Observer

Minutes by: 4D

After working out the contest details, the ESIs turn to a discussion of the Terms of Reference for the Consutancy Contract with an Ottawa Super-Blogger

Chair: I'd like to see bench-marking.

4th Dwarf: A confidentiality clause?

Aggie: She can help us explore the sex angle.

4D: But no ass piracy.

Conch Shell: We don't self-analyze. She should know that.

4D: Maybe we need help with that.

CS: If we think an idea is stupid, we will only attack the idea and not the person.

Chair: Maybe we'll attack the person a little.

Aggie: We will use only "I" statements.

Coyote: For example?

Aggie: "I feel that's fucking stupid."

Coyote: Should we redraw the org chart?

CS: What org chart?

Somebody: exactly.

4D: Does she think there are there other professionals we should consult? Graphics? Publicity?

Aggie: Raw food chefs...

Coyote: Molecular food chefs...

Plates arrive and the meeting is adjourned.

A night at the opera

In our mutual quest to understand and appreciate all things Italian, Audrey and I joined friends this week at Opera Lyra's inspiring performance of Don Giovanni.

Here is Audrey's list of the top five reasons to go to the opera:

1. Beautiful, well-dressed men in the audience.
2. Beautiful, well-dressed men onstage.
3. The performers sing in Italian but it is almost impossible to distinguish the words. Therefore, practise your French instead by reading the English surtitles and then the French ones.
4. Make notes for future play "Springsteen: the Rock Opera".
5. Be one of the local glitterati for an evening!