Joyce – 2016 – Delaware Despair

Another tale of one man’s journey navigating his way through the dating scene in Philadelphia.

Still another grinding Tinder date. Gotta keep trying. I swiped right on Joyce, and she did as well. She is 51, with blonde hair and brown eyes. Not a bad-looking lady. She lives in Delaware as you may have guessed. She had only three photos on her profile. Head shots only and no description. In two of the photos she is doing a three-quarter face and looking at the camera with a sideward glance. The third photo is black and white and she is wearing dark sunglasses and looking away from the camera.

Being in sales most of my life, I am pretty good at reading facial expressions and body language. Normally, they say more than any words can express. A sideward glance shows mistrust. A woman who doesn’t do a body pic on her profile, may have some body issues. If you don’t write anything about yourself on your profile, you are either super hot and don’t have to, or you don’t have anything to say.

Let’s see how this plays out.

We chat on Tinder first. She liked what I wrote in my profile about if you don’t look like your pics you have to buy me drinks until you do. So that was good. She said she had only been on Tinder for two weeks. After two weeks she had low expectations. She said that if she actually got to the meeting stage, that would be a score. If there was something more after that, it would be an even bigger score. What she wasn’t looking for was, hookups, or weeks of endless texting with no meet up on the agenda. So that’s another positive in her favor.

I asked her is she ever came to Philly, and she says she comes all the time. I like that. But then she said Baltimore was the “New Philly.”

Strike one.

I tell her I work in business development, and am going to be opening a business in 2017 in personal fitness and tanning. I ask her what she does for a living. She says she has been a dental hygienist her whole life, but no longer practices. (Sounds grindingly horrible) It has taken a toll on her neck and back. But she has had the good fortune to manage the office. She likes problem solving and it keeps her very busy. For fun she loves to travel. Loves the beach, too. (That always worries me. Usually they are boring types that just blow their money on trips to keep their lives interesting because they themselves are not.) She also says she needs to go dancing weekly. (Again. No talking, just moving around. Troubling. No man wants to go dancing ever.) She also likes to take risks. When friends want to do something that no one else will do they call her knowing she’ll be down for it. (They call their good friends first, and settle on you because they know you’re always available because you have no life.)  I’m going to go ahead and call this:

Strike Two.

After some schedule wrangling, we exchange numbers and decide to meet up. It was a Sunday after I was finished at the salon. I liked that she drove all the way up from Delaware to meet me. I’ll give her points for that. Oh, I told her about my writing and she wanted to read it, so I sent it to her. She did read it, and liked it. More points. (It was a screenplay I wrote a century ago.)

We meet at Square 1682. It’s sort of my go to spot in Rittenhouse. I’ve had some great experiences there and dig the staff for the most part. She gets there on time. Points. We sit at the end of the bar. She is reluctant to drink. I respect that. She has to drive. But one drink? We’re going to be here for longer than an hour. But no worries.

I am talking to her and being my usual effervescent self. I’ve run this program countless times and most women find me very engaging. Most people are boring and I bring a rich history of humor and knowledge to the table. But as the time goes by I realize I’m doing all of the talking. She actually asks me if I have ADD. I guess someone with a personality and energy is alien to her. I give her plenty of opportunities to talk but that’s when the conversation falls flat. It literally goes awkwardly quiet. That never happens with me. She’s doing that sideward glance judgemental look to me. Then she wants food. Shit. She’s boring and now I gotta feed this one.

I spring for some calamari for her and I get the octopus. She asks me what my day job is. I don’t like this. I’m the VP of business development for an institute. I told her all of this. I can see why she’s alone. She’s a drag and brings nothing to the table. I am really good at striking up conversations with complete strangers. I can talk to literally anyone. But, I don’t remember much about our date or about her, because she had so little in the way of conversational skills. I don’t even remember is she’s even been married or has any kids. Normally I write notes in my phone after these date so I can write about them, but I just looked, and I have nothing!

Strike Three! You’re out Joyce.

Here’s an interesting tidbit though. Near the end of our date, I look past her and who do I see sitting one seat down from Joyce?

June! (June – 10/2016 – Runs With Scissors)

My first date with June was on a Sunday at Square 1682 two and a half months ago! She’s alone chatting with the bartender, my buddy Tusk. She says hello to me, and wave back. I almost called her by her blog name. It was awkward. She doesn’t hang out at this bar. She’s lonely and is hoping to run into me, or just to talk to hot Tusk. (He is hot, in a rock and roll way. I’ll write about him soon) Now when I get rid of Joyce, I can’t even come back here and review this mess with Tusk. Tusk later texted me, and said that June said that she was cuter than the girl I was with. Okay, for the record, June. 1. You’re not. 2. You both equally suck in different ways.

I sadly have to pay the bill. (She did drive up from Delaware) I walk her to the parking garage, and it ends in not even a kiss on the cheek, (not that I even give a shit at this point) but with the perfunctory hug. Ugh! I ask her to please text me when she safety gets home.

I just make the walk home, because there is nothing left to do.

She texts me later to say that she arrived home safely. She thanks me for “an evening of drinks, snacks, and witty repartee.” (Those are the exact words I wrote in my calendar invite to her about this date) Has she not a single original thought in her head?

I’m never contacting her again. I have better things to do. I should have entitled this chapter, “Delaware Dud.”

Lately this senario has become classic phicklephilly. *sigh*

 

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Tales of Rock – Courtney Love is Crazy

Did she kill her husband?

I have a difficult time including Courtney Love in the presence of these rock stars, but I don’t have a problem calling her crazy. Courtney Love is a musician that gained notoriety in the late 1980s with her band Hole. She was married to Nirvana singer Kurt Cobain until he passed away in 1994. Love is known for extreme and erratic behavior. She has been implemented by a private investigator named Tom Grant in the possible murder of Cobain.

In the weeks prior to Kurt Cobain’s suicide Love hired Tom Grant to find her husband. After Kurt was discovered dead, Green said that he found strange activity on Cobain’s credit card. He believed that Kurt’s suicide note was actually a note written that was announcing his desire to end his marriage to Courtney Love. Green also cited Cobain’s unusual bloodstream heroin levels and the fact that no fingerprints were found on the trigger of the shotgun he used to kill himself as clues of foul play.

In 2009, the daughter of Kurt Cobain and Courtney Love, Frances Bean Cobain was granted a restraining order against her mother who was harassing her. Frances claimed that Courtney was a violent drug addict and compulsive hoarder. She was freighted for her safety and hoped to have her mother removed from her life.

In April of 2012, Courtney Love took to Twitter and provided a rant of crazy remarks. She attacked her daughter and Dave Grohl, the Foo Fighters frontman and former Nirvana bandmate. Love implied that Grohl had intended to have a sexual relationship with Frances and called him “sexually obsessed” with Kurt Cobain. She even voiced her opinion about the upcoming U.S. presidential election and attacked Mitt Romney with some unprovoked and strange accusations.

Courtney threatened to shoot and kill Grohl on two separate occasions. The rant was unprovoked and completely false. Frances is currently engaged to a man named Isaiah Silva. After the comments, Frances responded and said that the social networking website should ban her mother. Grohl said: “Unfortunately Courtney is on another hateful Twitter rant. These new accusations are upsetting, offensive, and absolutely untrue.”

 

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Church – 2012 to Present – Birthday Boy

Walk beside me and we’ll get you through the fire…

It was Church’s forty-eighth. He stopped up at the salon with a 200 ml of Jim Beam. I guess he wanted to get a little tuned up before we went to Keila’s going away party. Alice was nice enough to throw it for her considering Keila was leaving her high and dry. I don’t know when the party started, but I told Alice we’d be getting there after 8pm.

Church flopped on the couch in the waiting area of the salon. He cracked the half pint and poured half of it in an empty water bottle for me. He grabbed a can of Coke from the fridge and mixed his own whiskey and coke. I got him a scarf for his birthday, and he loves it. It looks just like one of mine, and I know he likes mine so now he has one.

I finished up work around 8pm. I texted Brooke to let her know we were heading over to Alice and Keila’s office for the party. Church and I go to their building and wait for the elevator. We finally get one and it’s full of people. These elevators always take forever. We finally reach their floor and step into the hallway. We can see the shared space through the glass doors. I see Alice putting her coat on and others gathering to leave.

We’ve missed it. It’s over. I text Brooke and tell her they’ve ended the party early. She says she has to attend a birthday party at Vesper later so if I want to meet her there we can. I agree.  (It’s a cool speakeasy bar on Syndham street, around the corner from Misconduct on 15th and Locust)

Alice and Keila are heading down Locust street toward Locust Rendezvous. (Small neighborhood bar, with $5 burgers everyday) It’s packed, and they keep on going towards Misconduct. Keila suggests McGillin’s on the other side of Broad street. (Oldest operating bar in Philadelphia) Alice vetoes the idea and wants to go to Misconduct.

We all pile in there. It’s noisy and packed as well. I tell Alice that Church that I thought the party was going to go until 9pm. Now we’re doing this mess, and we don’t want to do this train wreck. Alice is half in the bag. I tell her that Church and I are meeting Brooke over at Vesper around the corner.

“Are you mad at me?” she pleads.

“No. it’s just too crowded here and we need to go chill somewhere.”

I can tell she’s upset, but all they would have needed to do is follow us. But they didn’t, and I’m glad they didn’t. I don’t want to hang out with a bunch of IT nerds. It’s Church’s birthday, and I need to make sure he’s happy. We leave Misconduct. (It’s like a goddamn Chinese fire drill!)

Life is good over at Vesper. There are people at the bar, but against the wall are high top tables that are all empty. We park it there and order some drinks. Brooke shows up and I’m happy to see her. In her boots she is towering over me at 6’4″. We’re chatting about everything. her life, job, the salon, my new business development job. She says she’s here for some girl’s birthday party. The girl slept with some guy she was seeing some time ago, but they have reconciled. Still sounds shitty to me. I ask her how her trip to NYC went. I’m assuming it was a modeling gig.

Her heart was shattered a few years ago, when some guy she was in love with, neglected to tell her a small detail in that he had a wife. Brooke said she now has no expectations. Sounds like the walking wounded. You can’t let the shitty things that people do to you change your way of thinking or loving. They’re just shitty people. Learn from them and move on. Just try to make better decisions next time.

Brooke tells me that she’s on a dating site where people have to verify their incomes. She says she went to NYC to meet a guy that is a millionaire. She showed me some pics and he was good-looking and fit. She said she’ll only date guys that have been verified and have solid income. Now technically this seems like a safe plan on paper. But here’s what I gathered from our conversation.

Hot millionaire, (Or not. I don’t know how they verify income. Do you have to submit your tax returns to this site?) He’s on there and probably has no game. Because if you’ve got a million dollars you should be able to pull some serious tail on a regular basis. He connects with statuesque Brooke. She gets on the cheap bus in Chinatown and takes it to NYC for twelve bucks. If he’s so rich and he likes you, shouldn’t he just send a car for you or at least pay for your round trip ticket on Amtrak to have you up and back in a classy way? That’s what you would think, right?

Brooke schleps up there on a shitty two-hour bus ride. Goes to the guys place and he’s got her. “Did you sleep with him?” I ask.

“Of course.”

That is sooo Brooke. She’s always come off as a very sexual being. But she goes about it the wrong way every time. She has a slammin’ athletic body and probably fucks like a tiger, but no one keeps her around. I think it’s because she gives up the gold too soon, and really just isn’t pretty enough in the face for anybody to stay with her. I know this sounds harsh, but she needs to protect her vessel and make better decisions.

So basically, this hot “millionaire” sat back sipping a scotch in his Manhattan apartment while Brooke hopped on a bus in Chinatown and rode all the way up there to see him. He bangs a hot hard body for the night. It doesn’t cost him a red cent. Better than a free hooker, because she really likes him and hopes he’ll do the same. But I’m sure he doesn’t give a shit about her and just got some hot booty call for the night. She never mentioned him courting her, or taking her out anywhere in Manhattan. He just fucked my friend and put her off the property the next morning like a bag of trash. She gets to take the long ride alone back to Philly on a bus that smells like urine.

Bravo.

Well done.

I told this story to my dear friend Dina, (See: Dina – 4/2011 to Present – Lil’ Jap) at breakfast the other day and I’ll tell you what she said.

“That is not how you find a husband.”

I love Dina. She has always been wise beyond her years. (Like and old Jewish lady that I love)

So I tell Brooke we’ll catch up more in 2017. She has to go be with the shitty birthday girl. I get the bill and it’s my two beers and Church’s one cocktail. It’s his birthday, So I get it.

It’s getting noisy as more people enter the bar. I look at my phone. Alice texted me asking where we were. I tell her the Vesper Club and there is plenty of room.

Drunken crickets.

Church finds out his buddy Eddie is working the bar downstairs and wants to go down there. It’s the coolest part of this place. We walk up to the hostess stand. To her right is a tall bookcase. Church picks up the phone on the wall and speaks to the bartender downstairs. The bookcase clicks, and swings open like a door!

It’s a secret passage way to the cellar!

I love this!

We go downstairs and there is this dark bar set up down there. Dark lounge. People are in clusters on plush sofas drinking cocktails. It’s quiet and could become one of my hang outs, if I can get down here again. The bartender Eddie makes us a few drinks and they are outstanding.

There is a couple to my left on a Tinder date! I tell them some other good spots to hit around the city. She’s hotter than he is but it could work if he’s nice and has game. To my right is what appears to be three ladies that must work together. They’re all getting drunk and laughing.

I’m happy to be down here.

After two drinks and the ladies getting noisier, I know Church will want to go. Church doesn’t  like noise or nonsense. He insists on paying the check. I press but he wants to get it. I’m sure his buddy gave him a good hook up on the drinks.

I’m happy.

We make one final stop at Sofitel. He’s got connections there too. I order a Stella Artois and he gets a cup of coffee. They bring us a basket of fries and some dipping sauce.

It’s outstanding.

So we’re wrapping it up, and the night is winding down. We go to his car and he gives me a ride home. Church got a scarf. We drank a little bourbon. We almost went to a party. I got to buy him a few rounds of drinks. I got good intel on Brooke. We got the hook up in a cool underground bar. And some free food at another.

So overall I think Church had a good time, and so did I.

 

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Brooke – 2013 to Present – Legs for Days

Brooke was on point with the drinks. She even stuck around and hung out with us.

When I worked for the online start-up, back in 2013, there was a kid that worked in the office who was always playing crazy music. It was mostly all shit. I can’t believe I’m about to say this but it was also played too loud every day. (Yea, I’m getting old)

There were only two artists he ever played that I could stomach. One of them was a band called Tame Impala. I liked them because their singer sounded a bit like John Lennon. They were in town to open for the flaming lips at Festival Pier. So me and the kid decide we want to go. Somehow I got the hookup, probably through Keila when she worked at Live Nation. We were in the VIP section, which is nice because you can see the stage, it’s fenced in, you’re away from the animals, and you have your own clean bathrooms, and your own bar.

We grabbed a bite of over priced food before the show. Actually, the opening act was playing. It was Sean Ono Lennon. How sad is that? Your father is 1/2 of the two greatest composers of modern music in the 20th century. Let that sink in for a moment.

John Lennon is your father. Your half-brother Julian looks and sounds like dad, but your mom is Yoko Ono. No. Sorry. You’re just a filthy rich kid. Your dad was in the Beatles, and your shitty band is opening for the band that is opening for the Flaming Lips at Festival Pier in Philly. Sorry kid. Give up.

So we’re back at VIP and I need some wine. There is a very tall lean brunette that is serving me. She cracks a bottle for me. She fills my cup with ice and then pours the wine in on top of it. This is how I like my chardonnay. So I won’t have to keep coming back to the bar, she says she’ll just keep coming out to me in the section and keep my cup filled. I liked her already  because she was tall, beautiful and charming. Now I’m falling in love.

Tame Impala were good. I dig some of their music. It was a good show. Brooke was on point with the drinks. She even stuck around and hung out with us. I remember telling her about my girlfriend and just raving about how much I loved her. I was telling her about all of the romantic moments I created to celebrate how much I loved her. Brooke loved this and I feel like I made a memorable impression upon her.

I’ve run into her since then at different gatherings. I remember a bunch of us were all sitting around at Rouge. (Not a fan. Rittenhouse douche/snob watering hole) It was me, Keila, Alice, Brooke, a couple other girls and I think one or two guys  I didn’t know. At one point Brooke gets everyone’s attention and says: “(My name) speaks about women the way wish any of the men we know spoke about us when we weren’t around.”

That’s one of the nicest compliments I have ever had the honor of receiving. I’ll be taking her to Keila’s farewell party from the IT recruitment firm this week, So I’ll write more then.

Note: Brooke’s story continues in tomorrow’s post: (Church – Birthday Boy)

 

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Michelle – 2007 to Present – Chapter 13 – Domestic Bliss and a Happy New Year

Is that a picture of my ass on that wall?

2008 was an amazing year. Barak Obama was elected President, The Philadelphia Phillies won the World Series, and Michelle was my girlfriend. That’s a hat trick if there ever was one.

Michelle was one of several people who got laid off while the company we were working for was once again trying to figure out what it wanted to be. (Print going bankrupt again!) I remember the day it happened she went out and bought me an Ipod for my birthday. I was very grateful and it was a wonderful and thoughtful gift. I love music and I couldn’t believe how technology could put a thousand songs into something the size of a pack of gum. It’s pound for pound the best gift anyone has ever given me, and I don’t like presents. I’d always rather give that receive.

Michelle started working as a hostess at a local restaurant. She hated it because now she had to stand there and watch people do the very thing that she and I enjoyed doing. She also took a job at a local retail store here in center city. Looking back on that now, that had to be tough on her. She went from making good money at a dot.com to being on her feet all day and night and doing something she wasn’t even interested in. She did finally get a good gig with a great company. Better than when she worked with me at the publication. It was a non-profit that was at the forefront of organ donation. This job would serve her well and help catapult her into a great career in the future!

She was fed up with her bitch faced, passive aggressive roommate, and I think that chick was leaving when the lease was up anyway. I wanted to move to Philly and get out of living in Pennsauken, NJ. So with us being in love, we decided to get a place together. That normally had been the kiss of death for me, because I like my alone time. But we really got along and I figured we’d be alright.

We got a third floor two bedroom apartment in Graduate Hospital, which is the neighborhood just south of Rittenhouse. Penn Medicine now runs the hospital complex down there now, but people still call the neighborhood by its former name. It was a beautiful apartment. Everything was brand new. The instructions were still in the oven. It had all of the amenities. Michelle picked a two bedroom because my daughter Lorelei stayed with me every other weekend. She did a wonderful job of finding a home for us in Philly and I love her for that. We have so many great memories in that place.

I remember the night she showed me the apartment. The realtor was late. (He is a very powerful real estate mogul in the city today) We ended up going to Ten Stone, (A neighborhood bar at 20th and South) Michelle put it to me… “Are we doing this?”

We split the rent and the bills but eventually I think I paid the utilities and half the rent because I earned more. One thing I never took into account was that the reason we had to pay $1650 a month was for the second bedroom that was for my kid that visited twice a month. In hindsight I should have paid more of the rent back then and all of the utilities. Sadly, back then I was paying $600 a month in child support to the Gorgon sister I call my ex-wife. But Michelle was always on point with pulling her share. But I know I should have always paid more.

We moved all of our stuff from both apartments in one day. It was brutal. My whole body hurt for a week after that massive move. We did it all with a single U-haul van I rented for $100. Her building charged her $100 to use the elevator for the day to move. Fuckin’ exit fees.

We didn’t care. We got plowed at Continental midtown the night before, but we made it work. We got all of our shit moved in and it was in piles of boxes all over the living room. I think we went for pizza at Lorenzo’s that night to celebrate our new life together.

It was fun living together for the most part. The holidays were coming and my daughter Lorelei and I went out and got a tree and set it up in the living room. It was so funny. It was like a Norman Rockwell moment. Michelle was working and we wanted to surprise her. My daughter and I walked from 18th and Kater to 4th and South, (Which is a hike) to pick out a tree. We found a great bushy one and proceeded to carry it by hand all the way home. I only had one pair of gloves so I gave one to baby and I wore the other one. Lorelei carried the top, (Which was lighter) and I carried the trunk. We took breaks because it was heavy, and switched gloves. It smelled so good! Pine Christmas sap! I love that smell! People were coming out of their homes and taking pictures of me and my daughter carrying our christmas tree across the city. They were going mad about our Rockwell moment. I don’t know how Lorelei felt about it but as always, she was a trooper.

We all decorated it and it looked beautiful. Michelle had lots of great ornaments that either she or her mother used to stress about. I don’t remember why. Maybe because there was some holiday history in those ornaments. I remember later she really stressed about those ornaments. I know Michelle didn’t really give a shit because she’s like me, (no pageantry) but her mom did.

One of our favorite things to do was to sit on the loveseat in our living room and watch movies and different TV series on Netflix. Michelle’s mother had bought her a 50″ flat screen for Christmas and it was glorious. We would binge watch on the weekends. Just eat, drink wine and smoke cigarettes. Sometimes Michelle would bring out the inflatable mattress and stretch out on that on the floor. She loved that thing just to rest her beautiful body after a week of work.

Another thing we enjoyed was sitting at the kitchen counter, (resembled a bar) and we would listen to music and just chat and drink. Sometimes we’d bust out Scattergories and play that. Michelle being a former National Champion swimmer, was very competitive and didn’t like to lose. Things could get intense during those board game sessions. I actually remember her getting mad at me if I got a little far ahead. I always liked that about her. She had that champion spirit. I’d be sweet to her, but still liked whipping her ass in the game. But I never wanted girlfriend to be mad at me because I loved her so much.

On any given night you could catch us slow dancing in the living room to the sounds of Johnny Mathis, Frank Sinatra, or Roy Orbison. It was a lovely time.

We were making so much noise one night our crazy neighbors downstairs were throwing pretzel bites over our balcony to get us turn it down! The bites were hitting the sliding glass doors, but I think secretly they wanted us to play more Johnny Mathis!

We didn’t go out and terrorize the city anymore. We watched the entire run of The Sopranos and all of Six Feet Under. I remember us both sobbing at the end of the final episode of Six Feet Under. We were both equally blown away by the show.

We even cried uncontrollably at Marley and Me. I don’t know why but we loved that movie together. (Watch it. Maybe you can explain it to me. We’re not pet owners)

It was New Years Eve, and we were just coming back from brunch, or something, and Michelle wanted to stop in a women’s apparel store called Couer. It’s on 17th around Sansom. We go in, and She’s looking at lingerie and what not and I’m just checking the place out. I get to the counter and they have this huge black and white photo. It’s a huge picture of a woman’s posterior in a thong, holding a fuzzy kitten backwards. So you see this cute cat’s face and her ass. I’m looking at it, and the photo seems familiar. It’s gorgeous and tasteful. Great ass and cute kitty.

Suddenly, I hear Michelle’s voice from behind me. “Is that MY ass?”

“Don’t we have an 8×10 of that photo from your modeling days somewhere in the apartment?”

“Oh my God! That’s me!!!”

“Wait…what?”

We tell the person working there, and we all get a good laugh. We can’t believe that giant photo is there. It’s Michelle’s delicious bum from her days as a Reinhart model. The shoot was discussed, as was the kitten and the photographer.

“He’s still here.”

“Who the photographer?” I say, puzzled.

“No. This guy.” And another lady comes walking out from the back with a big old grumpy Persian cat in her arms.

“Holy crap! That’s the little kitten in the picture?”

“Yep. He’s like ten years old now.”

We were blown away and left laughing and saying how this New Years Eve was already getting crazy. It really seemed that everything we did or touched made something happen. (That’s what happens when two people are in love and the world is open to them)

So we were invited to join a former co-worker of ours to see the fireworks and grab food down at Penn’s Landing for New Years Eve. It was a bitter cold night. (We’re talking teens) It was impossible to get a taxi, and UBER and Lyft did not yet exist in Philadelphia. But I had an idea. We walked out to the corner and were trying to get a taxi, when the idea struck me. We were right near this place we always ordered pizza from. I saw one of the delivery guys and said hello. I told him I’d give him $20 if he’d drive us to Old City.

His response was, “Get in.”

We hop in the back of his pizza delivery car and off we go. He stops at a house nearby and delivers a pizza. It was surreal. Then we’re off again. He gets us to our destination. We thank him and out we go.

I think we were at the Mexican Post in Old City. We had probably been drinking before and we drank more when we got to the restaurant. It was nice to see my friend and his wife, but at that time I didn’t know any of the other people at the party. They were a bunch of IT and tech nerd types.

Just picture the creepy shy girl who looks like she could kill you in your sleep if you ate the last of her Ben & Jerry’s. Or the nerdy guy that has no table manners and chews with his mouth open. That’s just the result of some sort of parental neglect of some kind.

We finish up and head down to Penn’s Landing. It is really cold now on the Delaware River. The fireworks are great but all I can remember is the penetrating bone chilling cold. (And I’m sure Michelle feels the same)

Somehow we got a taxi back to midtown and actually went to the Midtown Diner on 18th Street. It was packed and I think I ate a cheese steak and fries. Michelle told me when she went to use the bathroom there was vomit everywhere so she used the Men’s room instead.

That’s what I hate about New Years and for that matter any other holiday where every swinging dick in the city is out drinking like they’re Duff McKagen in the 80’s. St.Patrick’s Day lasts like three weeks in this city. It makes me just want to leave the city for those  weeks.

So there isn’t much to write here about this time. We were done with going out and getting loaded every night. No more crashed parties, no more crazy events. Even though we could sit down at anytime and reminisce about all of our deviltry, it would be for nostalgia’s sake. I think our domestic time together were some of our best times. We enjoyed each others company and some of our best memories have come from that calm tranquil period in our relationship.

I think Michelle would agree.

Michelle always said: “I have so much fun with you, that when the day is over, I wish we could do it all again.”

 

 

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Tales of Rock – Duff McKagan Drank So Much His Pancreas Exploded

I love rock and have been in several bands in my young life and I will write about them all in 2018 and beyond. These posts aren’t promoted as part of phicklephilly but I love writing about bands and the music biz in general. If I could add a Thursday post about wine, beer, and liquor i would have the perfect magazine for me. Wine, women, and Song! But these are the first ones and it’s mostly wild stories I remember, but as I write more of these they will go deeper about bands I’ve met and played with but I have to start somewhere, but I assure you it will grow, and I’ll add my experiences when I’m ready. But thank you for reading and continuing to follow me!

Oh, and one more thing… unlike phicklephilly these don’t pop up every morning at 8am. I think it’s more fun if I have these pop up a minute after midnight every Friday to close out your work week with a little secret prize at the bottom of the box.

It seems like a ridiculous understatement to say that Guns N’ Roses were party animals. A band doesn’t get the nickname “the most dangerous band in the world” by enjoying an occasional wine cooler. As if his body were deliberately trying to solidify the band’s reputation, Duff McKagan drank so much booze that his pancreas fucking exploded.

In a habit formed from spending so much time trapped in a confined space with Axl Rose (that’s not a joke — that’s actually the reason), McKagan used to spend his days in GNR trapped in a perpetual whirlwind of cocaine and a daily half-gallon of vodka. That is, before he made the more health-conscious decision to cut back to 10 bottles of red wine per day.

One day, however, his boozing was interrupted by his pancreas swelling “to the size of a rugby ball” and rupturing, leaking acidic pancreas juices that caused third-degree burns inside his goddamned body.

Duff survived the incident, which inspired him to stop treating his liver like he was using it to manufacture chemical weapons. His prodigious fluid intake might be gone, but tributes to its legacy are tucked away in (nearly) every episode of The Simpsons.

Duff is one durable motherfucker that new it was time to clean up. He is currently healthy and on tour with Axl and Slash!

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every Monday, Tuesday & Wednesday at 8am EST.

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Keila – 2012 to Present – The Gaza Stripper – Out of the Pan and into the Fire

Why would Keila pull this kind of nonsense on her dear friend, Alice?

So Keila has resigned from Alice’s recruitment firm. Her farewell party is coming up. It’s the same day as Church’s birthday. (See: Church – 2012 to Present – Brand Ambassador) I should do something for him. I’m bringing him to the event when I finish my shift at the salon. I’m also bringing a girl I met through Keila. Her name is Brooke. She’s a Jill of many trades and a fitness model. So it should be an interesting mix. I’ll write about it all in the coming weeks.

They offered Keila a raise and 10% equity in the company which was more than generous. But she turned them down. As far as I know, she doesn’t have anything else lined up. She had been talking about getting her Masters in marketing but that could take a while. She said the firm no longer met her life goals. If you ask me, I think now that she is settled down with the boyfriend, she wants to get married and have children. I remember awhile ago she said the window was rapidly closing on that prospect. So if that’s what she wants, she should get at it.

I love Keila and I really want her to be successful. I introduced her to Alice. I hope she finds her way and gets the things she wants in life. She’s the one that got me the new job at the institute where I am now. I’m very grateful for that. She is so well-connected. A networker and collector.

But here is the thing… She introduced me to Carol, Bibi, Sarika, Harper, and Brooke, and now the Alcohol Institute. The first four are some of the craziest and worst women I’ve met in Philly. I’m already getting a bad feeling about the institute. So I should probably steer clear of anyone she introduces me to from now on.

There is probably more darkness and betray to come…

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every Monday, Tuesday & Wednesday at 8am EST.

Instagram: @phicklephilly    Facebook: phicklephilly