Monday, May 08, 2006


Cart before the horse! Cart before the horse!

A little online advice from D-man.

D-man: meghan joyce
D-man: you need to hold your horses and put them in the stable

Two days, and I'm still stumped, Meg.

Please help.

oh! Sorry! When I don't get comments, I think that no one notices/is interested in my dithering.

My roommates and I tend to put the cart before the horse when it comes to guys...all the time. We worry about careers clashing, plan summertime fun, etc. All before the second date.

A guy I know from kickball has said to me twice that I should "try to make it to the happy hours during the week." So I was talking to my friend David about what I should say to this guy once we finally meet up at a magical happy hour, and I jokingly said that I should say, "SO. Let's talk about us."

David said "US?!?!" and then told me to put my horses back in the stable.

My thing is: what's going to happen at happy hour? This guy can see me at the kickball bar every week, but he never goes. What can't he say at that bar that he can say at another?

D-man proposed that the happy hours might be more comfortable for him, and kickball guy might be more inclined to chat there. We'll see, because I'm heading over to HH tomorrow! I'm expecting fireworks, dammit.

*realizes that horse has yet again left the stable*

PS - Fantastic posting on the feminist issue. Way to stir it up!
In a decidedly non-feminist comment (sorry Wombat) your boy from kickball has asked you to go to happy hours, because social engagements involving alcohol can help some people to ease awkwardness. I'm not saying it's a good idea to use booze as a crutch in these situations (although it was thought booze that we became friends, ironically enough), but some people are more comfortable after a few adult beverages.

As for the next morning, when the sauce wears off but the bad decisions still resonate, well...that one's on you.
Are you saying that he needs alcohol as a crutch to talk to me?! Holla!

Or are you saying I need alcohol in me to be bearable? Hmm. Also a possibility.

Actually may know him. We must talk.

And I thought we became friends through stalking?

E stalking you, you coming to our party, you losing your cell phone and me facilitating a return, us going to your party, me stalking you on your blog? Oh, and a surprise run-in at the Hawk'n'Dove.

But oh, yes. There was definitely alcohol involved in there.
Oh, far from it, Meg. I spend most days:

a) deciphering your posts,

b) if a) occurs, celebrating,

c) after b) thinking of something sufficiently snappy to quip at you.

Hence oftentimes nothing (failure at a) stage) or if success at a)stage, failure at c)stage.

Or if success at a) through c), the post has moved to archives and is being unearthed by archeobloggists two centuries hence.

And you had no idea.


PS: Yes, I knew you would see the secret message in the Fem-post, but most missed the point entirely. Oh well. We can still fight the good fight.
And here I've been, thinking that you're effortlessly brilliant. Knowing that you think about comments makes me swoon even more!

Archeobloggists: A job that I would love to have. Perhaps if I amass a ridiculous fortune, I can leave a stipulation in my will making my great great great grandkids take up the profession.

I never knew I had it in me to make people do stuff after I'm long gone, but that job brings it out.

It would definitely have to be a ridiculous fortune.
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