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A little tea, a little chat

I've been a compulsive reader, writer and theatre goer all my life. My book blog is here: http://alittleteaalittlechat.wordpress.com/ Mostly food at the moment but also knitting is here: http://cathyingeneva.wordpress.com/

Currently reading

Democracy Incorporated: Managed Democracy and the Specter of Inverted Totalitarianism
Sheldon S. Wolin
The Temptation of Saint Anthony
Gustave Flaubert
Nebula Award Stories 3
Harlan Ellison, Gary Wright, Samuel R. Delany, Michael Moorcock, Fritz Leiber, Roger Zelazny, J.G. Ballard, Anne McCaffrey
Cosmology and Controversy: The Historical Development of Two Theories of the Universe
Helge Kragh
Gantenbein
Max Frisch
Jealousy: The Other Life of Catherine M. - Catherine Millet, Helen Stevenson So, it’s Mother’s Day here and I just don’t understand any of it. Like this….

A friend warned me yesterday that it was going to be Mother’s Day today and had I forgotten? Well, not so much forgotten as not noticed, but I’m not a mother, Stephen, so? There are advantages, you see, to not being one. But you have one, he replied. That’s easy. My mother would kill me if I so much as mentioned such a piece of marketing crap designed to make mothers feel even worse than they did before.

Lined up at the Post Office a couple of weeks ago, I couldn’t help wondering about the movies you could buy for your mother leading up to the big day. Lots of Audrey Hepburn, for example. Why? Why a bunch of movies about other women looking better and managing better and having better husbands and – is that really what mothers want? Wouldn’t they want sex videos of men with useful attributes and a chance to say to hubby why can’t you do that?

As it happened, last night, I was at a dinner party the point of which was to induce a baby. This was mostly done with basil and chilli, though as far as I know it didn’t work. Picture, if you please, Kate and Michael. Michael pours himself a drop or two of wine. Kate snarls what are you doing. Um, Michael tentatively replies, having some wine? Kate snarls back how come I’m not allowed to have wine and you are?

Huh? I mean, really. HUH!!!! What the fuck’s going on here? Well, I knew, and I was a bit surprised Kate hadn’t noticed, but anyway, I thought I’d point it out. Helllooo, Kate. You are about to have a baby? And your husband isn’t? It doesn’t matter, though, what I think. The woman went and had some wine because it’s all about being equal and that’s what makes them equal. If he has wine then she will too even if she shouldn’t. Honestly. Where do people get this puerile idea that this is what equality is? I wonder if the guy’s expected to have a crap while her baby’s coming out because that’s as close as he’s going to get to the experience. Is she going to be squatting on her bed (or whatever it is they do) saying ‘Well I’m ready, are you ready, Michael?’ and a bit later ‘Michael. What the fuck? It’s just a crap, get on with it.’ ‘That’s all very well for you to say, dear, but you know very well this is a very special crap and I have to get it just right. You know what they said at the clinic about this.’ I wish men didn’t have to be girls these days.

I felt like saying to Michael dump her. Right now. You’re a nice looking chap and you can come with me. But. I no longer have sex with Michaels. I lived with one for quite a while, greatly regretted it and really I just don’t want to get that close to one again. Which is a pity since one of the better offers of sex I’ve had lately has been from a Michael and the whole situation isn’t readily explicable. In fact, I’m thinking I might have to back down on my principles here. The last few nights I’ve been to a couple of dinner parties, I’ve met four very nice men, and….they are all called Michael. Every one of them.

I’m dying to have sex, I mean, really, dying. So if you are reading this and keen and your name’s Michael, do me a favour. Tell me the truth about everything. The wives, the children, the commitments, the psycho stuff you want to do, the psycho stuff you want me to do. No problem, honestly, I don’t care. But lie about the name. Please?

The weird thing about all this is that as far as I can tell it’s only a female thing, this idea that has such a following now about everybody having to share what the woman’s going through. I’m thinking especially of those women who make their husbands diet because they are. If I can’t eat dessert, then you can’t. It’s sick!!!!

What about this: e a bloke whose electric drill breaks down in the back shed. So he brings a hammer into the kitchen, smashes the Bamix with it, because that will make the two of them equal, his wife will be properly sharing his moment of frustration.

Equality isn’t about all being the same. Why is that such a hard concept to understand?

PS: just in case it isn't clear. I have not read this book. But I ran out of room on my other Millet book review, so...

Oh, I forgot. Speaking of woman and men being equal and the same, I like this:



That's the cartoon, but Randall Munroe did a bit of actual work on this and found out that the difference between genders wasn't that big on colours.

But then, to quote:

So I was feeling pretty good about equality. Then I decided to calculate the ‘most masculine’ and ‘most feminine’ colors. I was looking for the color names most disproportionately popular among each group; that is, the names that the most women came up with compared to the fewest men (or vice versa).

Here are the color names most disproportionately popular among women:

1. Dusty Teal
2. Blush Pink
3. Dusty Lavender
4. Butter Yellow
5. Dusky Rose

Okay, pretty flowery, certainly. Kind of an incense-bomb-set-off-in-a-Bed-Bath-&-Beyond vibe. Well, let’s take a look at the other list.

Here are the color names most disproportionately popular among men:

1. Penis
2. Gay
3. WTF
4. Dunno
5. Baige

I … that’s not my typo in #5—the only actual color in the list really is a misspelling of “beige”. And keep in mind, this is based on the number of unique people who answered the color, not the number of times they typed it. This isn’t just the effect of a couple spammers. In fact, this is after the spamfilter.

I weep for my gender.


But I don't. Imagine a world where men liked dusty rose as much as women do. It's some place I don't want to be....