So, last night i went to a baseball game (yes, i know, it’s improbable). We didn’t quite have nosebleed seats, but we were high up enough that Veteran’s Stadium seemed more like an arena for the sky than a sports venu. When they announced a rain delay due to a thunderstorm watch people started streaming out of the open seats into the more protected areas but i stayed glued down as i contemplated the chance to watch the weather have its way with the world from the cheap seats.

Weather never really decided whether or not it was going to do a darn thing, as as a result we finally took cover just out of boredom and hunger. I’m not a big sports fan, so the wonder of walking around the circling circumference ramps of a major league stadium isn’t entirely lost on me although i have learned enough about market and captive economies to know better than to pay $2.50 for a bottle of water no matter how thirsty i am (and that they purposely buy spicy cheese for their nachos and sell only water and soda alongside them for outrageous prices). The big excitement came not from the weather or the overpriced concessions, but from some random South Philly girl who couldn’t have been older than 14 or 15 hitting on me while i was in line for the nachos.

If you’ve been reading for any length of time you’ll know that not too many young ladies seriously hit on me; to this day Selina denies flirting with me at any point up to and including when i first kissed her. And, i’ve especially never been hit on randomly at a sporting event by someone, and not just because i typically attend sporting events at the rate of one per two years. I’m thinking my lack of random events such as this one can be attributed either my going everywhere with my mother, my having too much hair, or my shopping in a totally flaming fashion. Last night i was with my friend Steve (who’s apparently equally eligible for random South Philly girls, since he was hit on after i didn’t give my number out), i’m sporting a sexy new haircut (well… the Sexy New Haircut), and i was all chill and guy-like with my beat up jeans (ask me if i let that happen intentionally) and my rapidly deteriorating mod-squad leather jacket. So, anyway, not that i’m especially keen on dating random jailbait from South Philly, but out of all the (equally Italian) guys she could have hit on she picked me. Or, maybe she hit on all of them. But, life has a way of inflating my ego whenever someone else lets the air out of it a little too much.