Tuesday saw the beginning of a beautiful friendship between myself and sports. Apparently, you can get together with friends, drink beer, and still get exercise. The rules for drunk kickball are simple: Always have a beer in your hand and try not to hurt yourself or others. Other than that, I can heckle and flirt as much as I want. Grin.
One kickballer in particular, Colin, paid me extra attention. Well, if flirting consists of name-calling and running into each other deliberately, then I suppose he was making his intentions clear. I, indirectly, have his email address, so a casual sandwich invite might be plausible in the near future. I don't do the coffee invite since it's played out. That and people might think it's a euphemism for a sex invite. Which doesn't make sense... a sandwich invite is a better euphemism for sex than coffee, right?
Anyway, it was quite fun and not-at-all ironic to be playing the flirting game while playing a kickball game. And I didn't spill any of my beer. Go me!
In other news, Felix turned 24 today! I wished him a happy birthday, which paled in comparison to Andy's fantastically funny video-card. Oh well, next year is the big 2-5 anyway, right?
Spin that shit, DJ Flex!