Phicklephilly – Special Report: Haters Gonna Hate

“Look onto your own bloody lives.” – John Lennon

Hello all. First of all I’d like to thank everyone of my followers and everybody who reads and enjoys my blog. I really appreciate the loyalty and enthusiasm of my audience. You’re the best group of creative, intelligent, lovely people I’ve ever encountered in the writing community.

So, Thank you all. I appreciate your words and your thoughts.

The reason for this blog’s success is all of you over the last 3 years. I’ve posted thousands of pieces and have had over 40,000 visitors and over 80,000 page views. I hope maybe I’ve helped a few folks out there with my dating and relationship advice and also I hope they enjoy all of my heartfelt stories and crazy dating experiences.

I’m proud and humbled by all of the attention for my little blog here in Philly.

Anyway, I wrote a piece back in 2017, (nearly 3 years ago!) and forgot about it. It was a goofy post about somebody I met on Bumble but never went out on a date with because they seemed a bit crazy.

Again, it was so long ago and I’ve written so much over the last few years I simply forgot about it.

Two days ago, I noticed a spike in my viewer stats. Frankly I was amazed. (5 times my usual daily views!) Initially I was astounded at all of the attention. I thought that maybe my blog had finally taken off as a literary force!

But when I looked closer I realized that someone, or a group of someones had found this old blog piece and attacked me.

This mad group of trolls crawled out of their caves, or out from under their rocks, or from under their bridges where they live to scare the Billy Goat’s Gruff! (hopefully some of you get the reference!)

They called me all sorts of names and were really mean.

There are thousands of these pigs out there and they love to attach themselves to successful people like blood sucking sea lampreys.

This is my blog, my words and my truth. I control every aspect of it and enjoy that part of it. I happily have to approve every comment that appears on this blog. (I have to because I get at least 50 spam posts a week and it’s all a bunch of nonsense that could hurt the integrity of the site’s function as well as WordPress.)

 

Someone once asked me how to deal with negative feedback. I told them this: “Positive feedback usually makes you feel good. (The warm fuzzy’s we all like from friends, loved one’s and coworkers) and Negative feedback. Negative feedback, when done respectfully and properly, improves your performance.

But what if the negative feedback is mean and unwarranted?

Sadly, every moron now has a voice. The internet. For hundreds of years the only voices you heard were in newspapers, radio, and TV. But since the invention of social media every idiot that wants to anonymously make a comment or attack a person to hurt them can now do it.

We’ve all read about these cowards. These internet bullies who have even hurt children and caused some poor troubled souls to even take their own precious lives.

They’re all despicable cowards that I have no time for. I’ve had my share in the last 3 years. There’s always someone out there who won’t agree with something you did to express yourself and write and create. Most of these morons that attack those of us brave enough to bare our souls through our literature and tell the truth about our live and experiences can barely put together a paragraph of any kind of rational thought.

If it happens to you, please take my simple advice:

It comes down to simple science. As a musician and a man of science, let me share this with you all.

In order for a sound to be made, you need two things. A Transmitter and a Receiver. The transmitter emits a sound, or a comment or anything. It needs a receiver to make a SOUND. With no receiver, there is NO SOUND. You need both to make a SOUND. So if some troll makes a negative comment about your art, simply don’t respond.

The negative comment never sees the light of day on your blog and it silences these fools and cowards who hide behind their computers. Because their lives are so empty, and vacuous they want to hurt those who are strong and have a real voice with their art.

Anyone who holds them out in the public eye with creative ideas will always be met with some adversity from morons who don’t have anything good going on in their lives and have nothing better to do than to attack people with real talent like all of you out there who are writers and artists yourselves.

So these broken transmitters bark their nonsense on your blog and make their snide comments and all you have to do is not approve their comments.

It’s that simple.

Laugh at what they wrote and toss it in your spam file. It’s nothing but trash and don’t let these morons have a voice.

No voice, equals no sound.

Scrape them from the sole of your shoe like you would any other bit of excrement.

Or, look at this way. I once wrote a manuscript for a book 20 years ago. It wasn’t very good and I sent it out to several publishers. I got tons of the usual rejection letters, but there was this one that struck me. She said I was a good writer but didn’t like all of the sex and violence in my work. I took it as an insult. I spoke with an artist friend of mine and he said, “No man, don’t you get it? She rejected your work, but she cared enough to tell you that your work disturbed her. It moved her to have a feeling. Whether it’s joy or revulsion, that’s what art does. It makes you feel something. You made her feel something. That’s a good thing!”

So sadly, in this day and age, haters are going to hate. They’re all a bunch of losers so don’t worry about them and don’t give them a voice.

Take control.

I’ve decided to cut and paste their words here in this blog piece that I control. I will hold these ugly trolls out to all of you, and I will show you what they are… but on my terms.

Here’s what these cowards said about me.

 

Alida 

Wow. Misogyny much?

First – do you have permission to share Ms. Smith’s images? Her name? Her comments to you, which were considered private? Have you no shame nor any concern about a lawsuit?

Second – What is it about you that you find so special and amazing? Looked through your blog here. You claim to be a gentleman, but your posts, especially this one, refute that.

Third – You dare to call yourself a writer, but what I have read from your site so far has been less than impressive. Venting is not writing.

 

 

John

Dear Mr. Hickle, If I were you I’d take this down immediately. You are grossly GUILTY of character defamation, labile, cyber bullying, and slew of other hate related crimes, as well as releasing her personal and confidential information without her consent. If this woman want to, she could sue with in an inch of your life. I know you didn’t like this person, but you are not only way out of line here, you are committing several felonies in the process by keeping this online.

 

 

K R

Honey…the only one with red flags in this exchange is you. Looks like Marey dodged a bullet there. Incel ghoul.

 

Chels

Wow… this is pretty ballsy…. publishing a woman’s images and name I assume without permission.

Glad you got your rocks off. Honestly looks like she dodged a bullet.

 

ashley

You would have been lucky to meet her, you douchebag. Looks like you though which is great because you should see Mary now! She’s a WONDERFUL woman and even an inspiration to me to stay positive no matter what life throws at you. You, my friend, never deserved that first date with Mary because you would have NEVER have been good enough. If only ONE thing you said was right about her then maybe you’d have something here but you never got to know this wonderful woman. Again, you’re a douchebag and have no place writing this bull shit with no actual FACTS to go on. Good luck in your endeavors, I hope woman on Bumble see this and avoid your ass too!spared her 

 

An Actual Writer

Hey Phickle—would you like to know how you come across, here? Do you know how it sounds when you add your bold-faced lies to your perspective?… Do you have any sense of personal accountability or introspection at all? (Rhetorical questions, obvi.)

This isn’t funny. *You* are not funny. I hope the women you’re attempting to meet catch wind of your site and steer clear.

 

Patty

This article is extramural cruel and unnecessary . I’m glad you have the time to purposefully put people down and look down on them for no reason. You are the definition of what a bully is put other people down and make fun of them to make your self feel better . I also love how you multiple time point out that your a lier wonderful quality dude ! She was better off with out you

 

ashley

So phicklephilly has changed the name of the person in this blog to protect their privacy rights… years after it’s been out there online.

I smell a lawsuit!! And one that NEEDS to be heard. Good luck Mr. Phicklephilly;)

 

Frank

Someone who describes themselves as having “been at this a while” has clearly got his own issues with relationships to deal with himself.

I wish I was cool enough to have a blog where I could judge random strangers based on one interaction.

I wonder if you’re still alone…

 

What a collection of failures. All the poor grammar and bad spelling! 

Can you imagine taking the time out of your day to write the above nonsense and actually think that your little pathetic voice is heard by anyone who gives a damn about anything you have to say?

I thought I’d share what these morons said so you can all have a good laugh along with me as I continue to bring you quality content everyday…

Twice a day!

 

Oh… Here’s the best part. All of this nonsense, rage and curiosity caused an incredible spike in my traffic. Thank you trolls and haters.

In the last 48 hours I have had over 1200 page views. Thank you for getting me  closer to my 100,000 page view goal!

(Insert hysterical laughter here)

 

My father once said to me the following words, and it was one of the best pieces of advice he ever gave me.

“Son, the emptiest barrels make the most noise. Ignore them.”

 

Thank you one and all for your continued love and support! I’d love to hear your experiences with this sort of nonsense!

 

Koolkosherkitchen Forever!

 

 

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.

Check out the new Phicklephilly podcast on Spotify!

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Tales of Rock: Eddie Van Halen Makes Out With Woman In New Photo

Eddie Van Halen Makes Out With Woman In New Photo – AlternativeNation.net
— Read on www.alternativenation.net/eddie-van-halen-makes-out-woman-new-photo/

Bailey – Chapter 4 – Second Date – Part 2

Bailey destroys her dinner. I’m sure she doesn’t know anyone like me that would ever take her to a place like this. She’s in the theater community. Like my ex Annabelle none of those losers have any money. I like her but I’m starting to think this has become another meal ticket for a chick on OkCupid.

I don’t want to think about that, but I do.

I think about how great my first date with Cherie was. There was chemistry and it was going somewhere. Even from the first date. Cherie wanted it more than me. That’s what we all need to find. Not this shit. Why am I cheating on Cherie with this novelty?

Because Cherie is rarely around. I like company. I’m in control of my life now. I compartmentalize everything and everyone. I can manage everyone around me. I am the Sun. All of my planets are fine and they never collide. I’m at the heart of my own solar system.

The sunny Leo.

I’ll navigate this little satellite as well.

Dinner’s great. She loves it and cleans her plate. Destroys the last of the appetizer I had no interest in. I feed her more chicken from my fork.

I thought we’d share a gelato flight but she went with one each. Double my bill. Thanks, Bailey.  The gelato was orgasmic and I knew I had touched her soul, but the gelato is so good at this restaurant all you need to do is show up and make sure you order the flight. She was so blown away by the mango I gave her mine just so she’d have more to enjoy.

Eating a flight of gelato at Gran cafe L’Aquila is like listening to a Beatles album. Every song makes you feel different.

When we’re all done I pause.

I took her hands. They’re soft, small and girlish. I caress her hands and it’s really nice. She says she has midget hands and I correct her and tell her soft girl hands are nice. It feels good to touch her. Hands tell a lot about a person and her’s are especially small, girlish and nice. (This is my favorite part of the date.)

“I remember when we met on Christmas Eve on our first date, Bailey. You were wearing all black and white. You were very stylish and it was a great look for you. I loved your top, the skirt, the patterned stockings, the boots. Really put together. Beautiful.”

“Oh, thank you!”

“Okay… So I was walking to work today, and I was thinking about you and that day and your outfit and how great you looked. ”

This is when I pulled the black bag from the floor and put it on the table. It’s plastic and she never saw this coming.

I push it to her and she opens it. She reaches inside and pulls out a beautiful black and white scarf. It’s one of these that’s shaped like an 8. Thick and soft. It’s been a cold winter and I think this is an appropriate 2nd date birthday gift for a girl I like.

I think you’d all agree with me.

Baliey is so grateful. It was an impulse buy while walking through Suburban Station today. It just looked perfect and great for her style. It goes over well. She goes to put it back in the bag and notices something else. A 4 pack of Black and Mild filtered cigars that I know she likes.  (This came up on the first date)  She’s ecstatic, and very gracious.

I like all of this and tonight’s second date has been a roaring success albeit a costly one for our hero.

I of course pay the $80 fucking bill and get our coats. I put hers on her and even pull her hair from the collar. I’m 55. She’s 28. Here I am. I know guys younger than me that are pulling their puds at home.

My life is fun and beautiful.

We get outside and she’s waiting for her UBER and fires up a Black and Mild. After tonight she seems a little more ghetto to me. Before she lights the cig I grasp her.

I kiss her.

It seems automatic and not passionate at all. I knew she owed it to me. But it was just a firm wooden bump of our lips. I felt that immediately. Not like me and Cherie. Certainly not like me and Ambria. What happened to the touching at Dan Dan? Where’s the energy? Hmm?

She chinks out her cig because her UBER is coming. Apparently it’s a big Mercedes with a woman driver. We cross 17th street at Chestnut and head to the front of Ruby Tuesdays.

The car is there and before she gets in she kisses me. But it’s still feels wooden and perfunctory. I don’t like that. But maybe I’m over analyzing.

But I’m too old for that, and where there’s smoke there’s some twenty-something stuffing her head and pouring water over your fire, Sir.

Because before this dinner there were plenty of kisses emojis and they have completely dried up.

As the door slams you say, “Text me to let me know you got home safe.”

But she doesn’t hear it, and her belly is full of $90 of food and gifts.

I never get that respectful text.

That’s critical people.

Girls, you have to do that if a man sends you home on a date. Huge mistake if you just go home and don’t tell him you’re home safe. That’s all he wants. You didn’t sleep with him. He just treated you like a queen and bought you appetizers, dinner, dessert and a scarf an cigs. A “Got home safe” would be nice just for the sake of manners.

I did get a message from her the next morning saying she would be able to go to the movies with me New years Day. She even sends a pic of her wearing the scarf I gave her.

Cute.

I tell her I’ll send her a list of films and she can pick and I’ll put it in the calendar.

So let’s see what happens…

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.

Instagram: @phicklephilly    Facebook: phicklephilly   twitter: @phicklephilly

 

Tales of Rock- Reports of Eddie Van Halen Being Seriously Ill

Sources have told gossip writer AJ Benza that living guitar legend Eddie Van Halen is seriously ill and has been receiving visits from his ex-wife, actress Vale
— Read on www.topbuzz.com/article/i6746612041999450630

Kita – Chapter 40 – While You’re Away – Part 1

Kita… When I first met you I liked you immediately. I can’t put my finger on it.

Actually I can put all of my fingers on it. You were sweet, nice and a lovely young girl. Asian. Loves to go tanning, a flash of blonde hair over your dark roots that actually creates a halo of gold around your lovely head.

I started writing about you before I knew you. I never do that. I only write about real encounters but I knew very little about you. But meeting you was an inspiration. I don’t know why. You never know when the spark will come but it feels so good when it does. There’s certainly nothing special about your persona.

You’re cute and fit and tan. You and your sister were adopted from China by a couple of Americans and they are very powerful people in the US Military. That’s pretty cool and I’ve done my research and they are a couple of high up important people. So that anybody that gets to know you will have to understand that protocol.

But quite magically I had the honor to get to know you. A lucky girl snatched from an orphanage in China by a great couple that maybe couldn’t have kids. It’s almost on a Brad Pitt and Angelelina Jolie rescue.  You and your sisters are lucky girls. Lottery lucky.

I had the pleasure of getting to know you. What are the chances? A middle-aged man who writes a dating blog for Philadelphia about all of his dating foibles and relationships. You transplant from Florida and attend Drexel University for Hospitality Management . Nothing extraordinary about that.

But you love to be tan. There is only a handful of you that are really addicted. It’s okay. Sunlight is what we deliver here at the salon and I’m one of the best salesmen in the city. So if you want results you’ve come to the right place.

But I had the chance to actually get to know you. You’re 21 years old. A child. Not like my former co-worker, Summer. She has so much experience when it comes to life, boys and social, but you’ve been sheltered.

Not in a bad way but in a way that has been detrimental to your development when it comes to navigating the world of romance and relationships.

You like to hang around the salon and chat with the old lion that has fought so many battles in regard to love. Not all battles, but maybe some wrestling matches.

I give you advice and wisdom my lithe gazelle. I know so much about your family now. I’m good at reading people and profiling personalities over time. Your story is textbook, darling.

Decorated military dad who is so important he’s not around. I like him and admire what he’s done for our nation. Mom is in the same force but retired. Dad kinda knows his kids but is busy and good with opening the wallet. Mom is a little more loose with words and questions but a little tighter with money and budget.

It’s a nice balance and I think you have a nice family. I have that too and it all makes me smile.

But you and your lovely sis went to private school for girls. That’s no boys. You gotta know boys unfortunately and make mistakes with boys to navigate the world of woman adulthood.

You chicks missed that.

You had the one guy somewhere around 16 and he broke your heart. That should be nothings and you move on to the next hottie.

But you couldn’t eat and had some real depression. Totally normal. That’s what pain depression and sadness is. Depression and sadness is like an illness you’re born with and gets worse during events.  Your mom gave you meds to combat your sadness.

Mistake.

Sick kids need to suffer and get well with the tools they have and the people around them. You don’t stuff pills down a child’s throat to shut off the feelings of illness. The child or the adult needs to feel the searing pain of sadness and loss and heal on their own. (Surrounded by family and friends)

But nobody has the patience to console and wait anymore. They give you a pill to get you in line.

You are killing the child’s development. You think You’re doing the right thing and saving your child but you’re ruining their development and their future coping skills. I know you didn’t mean it and were trying to help your child… the adopted child that is not your blood but you fucked up.

She needs to be sick and sad. She needs to heal in a natural way that will make her evolve and be strong. She will be a better stronger woman on the other side.

Fuck sake… no drugs!

Then Kita gets with some other white boy romance loser. He sends out his best representative to get in her sweet pants. Who knows, maybe he liked her, maybe he thought he loved her, but after a few years he grew tired of her.  People change… they grow.

Maybe he’s and asshole. I don’t know. But JR basically fazed Kita out. Terrible, but I get it. He may have grown tired of the super tanned, needy, Asian chick he closed on some passionate sweaty night.

His family didn’t like her and her family thought she was trading down into some lowlife Delaware county trash. Because her family is rich and powerful. Very powerful.

After 3 years JR has had enough. He wants to drink, drug, and kiss some other babies. Kita has zero experience, doesn’t drink, isn’t all that interesting, and kind of isn’t fun for him. He wants the hot bitches in the club. Kita is a scheduled, nice, conservative, needy, very communicative young girl that could be viewed as a burden to a young man.

So after some time he tires of her. I don’t see that in this moment because she’s a 21 year old gorgeous Asian, fit baby, but it happens.

I was once at a wedding with my brother in law and he asked who a specific girl was.

I told him it was the bride’s hairdresser.

He said: ” She’s hot. But somebody’s tired of that.”

I never forgot that simple wisdom.

 

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.

Instagram: @phicklephilly        Facebook: phicklephilly        twitter: @phicklephilly

Tales of Rock – The 7 Most Gruesome Rock ‘N’ Roll Legends (And Whether They’re True)

If the legends are to be believed, a rock star’s day is two hours of playing music and 22 hours of sex, drugs and worshipping Satan. Are the legends true, though? We assembled the most unsettling myths and, wearing elbow-length rubber gloves, took a closer look.

7

Stevie Nicks Rides the White Horse

The legend: Stevie Nicks, easily the most bangable member of Fleetwood Mac, was at one time so tolerant to the effects of cocaine use that in order to achieve a healthy, atomic-grade high she had to have it blown up her rectum.

Why it grosses us out: Because people who snort cocaine nasally spend approximately 90 percent of their time wiping their constantly running noses. If the legend is true, things don’t look good for that awesome dragon chair she’ sitting on.

Why we still hope it’s true: Aside from giving us reason to discuss Stevie Nicks’ ass in social situations, it would be the most hardcore thing anyone’s done with their body since that dude at Lollapalooza hung a bowling ball off his dong.

Shoving cocaine up your ass is extra-strength crazy, unless of course it’s your source of livelihood (apologies to any drug mules who may have been offended). As an added bonus, it could be considered an anthropological throwback to the Mayans, who used to imbibe alcohol through their rectal lining via beer douches. Tastes great and less filling! Not that you’ll notice.

Yeah, but is it: Nicks most certainly blew the blow, and it is biologically feasible that one could get high by reverse-farting cocaine, but we still find the claim pretty dubious. She has publicly denied it, which could be taken as proof either way. If someone at work started spreading a rumor that at last year’ Christmas party, you snorted cocaine through your sphincter, would you dignify it with an on-the-record denial?

As far as the official record is concerned, the field remains wide open for a phicklephilly reader brave enough to claim the title “first person to take cocaine anally.” Get to it!

6

KISS’ Comic Book Petri Dish

The legend: KISS, in one of the more ridiculous marketing gimmicks of the last 50 years, mixed vials of their own blood into the red ink used to color the blood for the first issue of Marvel’s KISS comic series.

Why it grosses us out: KISS isn’t exactly the model of sexual restraint. Their blood would probably be more valuable at a clinic documenting the evolution of various strands of STDs since the ’70s, and less valuable staining our finger tips. We’ll stick with our Whitesnake coloring book, thank you very much.

Why we still hope it’s true: No one does zany, goofy, ultimately innocuous horror like KISS, and what better manifestation of that than mixing their blood with comic book ink? Yes, they’re bleeding, but at some point that blood is going to be mixed with the palm-sweat of a thousand chubby sixteen-year-olds as they read about Ace and Gene battling space-pirates with their righteous riffs.

Really, the only way this can be considered hardcore is if you assume-as we do-that the blood was not extracted by a needle, but rather sopped up from the floor after the guys rolled in bacon fat and waded through a trough of alligators.

Yeah, but is it: Absolutely. KISS flew to Marvel’s inking facility in between tour stops and dumped vials of blood into the red-ink vat. Not only is there a picture of it happening, but it was witnessed by a notary public and subject to a signed contract. Comic fans are apparently very particular about the validity of their blood-infused inks. You can now rest assured that if you see someone licking a KISS comic, they are either a vampire or a huge freak.

 

5

Mick Jagger’s Goes to Mars

The legend: Mick “the rooster” Jagger was caught during a drug bust eating a Mars Bar from between the legs of Marianne Faithfull, as well as nude in bed with effeminate rocker David Bowie. And, he was caught by Bowie’s wife, no less.

Why it grosses us out:

Now picture that, but without any clothes on. Yeah. That’ why.

Why we still hope it’s true: We like our rockers like we like our parents: androgynous and sex-crazed. Jagger eating a candy bar out of someone’s cooch is alright, but ultimately just another entry in the pantheon of “rockers have so much sex they get bored with it and do crazy shit” stories. Add in some Bowie-humping, though, and you’ve got rock-legend magic.

The only thing that could make it better would be if Prince had filmed the whole thing and the tape leaked to the Internet, revealing Bowie in full makeup and demanding to be called “Major Tom.” We can dream, can’t we?

Yeah, but is it: In a happy twist of fate for lovers of bizarre celebrity behavior, the Mars Bar bit is a definite no, but the Bowie-banging may actually have some truth to it. Police did bust in on Jagger and Faithfull looking for drugs, but reported no sexual activity other than the fact that Faithfull was naked except for a large blanket. By rock standards, she might as well have been in a burka.

As for the latter incident, Bowie’s wife detailed it on an episode of Joan Rivers’ radio show, but later claimed that the men weren’t having sex, just nude in bed, which, you know, is totally normal.

4

Frank Zappa Eats Poo

The legend: Misanthropic hermit and erstwhile experimental rocker/composer Frank Zappa got in an onstage gross-out contest with friend Captain Beefheart, in which Beefheart took a dump onstage. Zappa then promptly won the contest–and put Ozzy Osborne’ bat stunt to shame– by scooping up a handful of poop and popping it in his mouth.

Why it grosses us out: Because it’ the most disgusting thing you could possibly do, other than eating two pieces of shit.

Why we still hope it’s true: OK, we kind of don’t, since we like Frank Zappa and it would force us to lose a healthy amount of respect for the guy. But, his notoriously bizarre musical style, and the fact that he named his kids Moon Unit, Dweezil, Ahmet Emuukha Rodan and Diva Thin Muffin Pigeen, doesn’t help his case much.

Put that guy in front of a crowd, goaded on by a competition and under pressure to perform, and who knows what he’s capable of? As anyone who’s watched Fear Factor knows, people will eat a lot of crazy shit for very little compensation. Of course, this would be the first time the phrase “eating crazy shit” was used so literally.

Yeah, but is it: Despite strident and persistent claims from fans who “totally saw it happen,” it almost certainly didn’t. Zappa was actually boringly conservative for a rambling guitar rocker and was one of the most vocal anti-drug performers of his time. When asked directly about the incident, Zappa said, “I never took a shit on stage, and the closest I ever came to eating shit anywhere was at a Holiday Inn buffet in Fayetteville, N.C.”

3

Marilyn Manson Gets Flexible

The legend: Marilyn Manson, who decided getting breast implants and being an ordained priest in the Church of Satan didn’t make him creepy enough, had his lowest set of ribs removed so he could perform autofellatio (That’ where you blow yourself. Read a book, dammit.).

Why it grosses us out: There’ basically nothing Marilyn Manson can do that wouldn’t make us uncomfortable. Also, this myth requires that you acknowledge the existence of Marilyn Manson’ penis, which we’re assuming bares its fangs and writhes around like a snake when exposed to daylight.

Why we still hope it’ true: We, uh … have this friend that’ worried he’ going to break his neck, and we think it would just make things easier on “¦ our friend if this “¦ Oh hell, it does not make you gay if you try it to yourself. Ok?

Yeah, but is it: A thorough investigation into the matter, conducted only for the purposes of this article, proved that there is no evidence of a successful rib-removal surgery in all of the Western world. Of course, that doesn’t take into account the Eastern world, as well as any surgery attempts that aren’t on record. Also, medical research conducted for this article, and only for this article, reveal that it would actually be more helpful to remove a vertebrate.

2

Rod Stewart Gets Pumped

The legend: Rod Stewart passed out at an after party and had to get his stomach pumped after ingesting a gallon of semen.

Why it grosses us out: A gallon of semen? We can’t even get through a gallon of milk without throwing up.

Why we still hope it’ true: The Rod Stewart-semen-stomach-pump story blazed a path for the same rumor to be applied to countless modern pop stars. There was Jon Bon Jovi, various members of New Kids on the Block and, more recently, Justin Timberlake.

So, either blowing thousands of dudes is a proud tradition passed down from one pop star generation to the next, or there is an intergenerational tendency among American men to imagine popular male musicians with dicks in their mouths. We’ll take the option where Jon Bon Jovi’ the creep and we’re just doing our jobs reporting the gruesome facts.

Yeah, but is it: It’ almost definitely false, though Rod isn’t helping his case with his denials. In a Rolling Stone interview Stewart commented, “It was so laughable, it never really hurt me. What could it have been? A fleet of fucking sailors? Or, footballers?” They cut the quote off there, but we’re assuming Stewart continued naming the professions of all of the different people he didn’t blow to get that much semen in his stomach.

1

Led Zeppelin’s Mud Shark

The legend: While staying at the Edgewater Hotel in 1969-a hotel that allows guests to fish from their room balconies-Led Zeppelin caught a mud shark and then proceeded to use it sexually on a bound groupie. Exactly how is a matter for grim speculation only.

Why it grosses us out: Because it sounds like an even more disturbing version of the most disturbing scene in A Clockwork Orange. It also, for whatever reason, makes us acknowledge the existence of Marilyn Manson’ dick again.

Why we still hope it’ true: The way we heard it, the chick was totally into it, which helps undercut the “Oh, my God, that’s horrific” factor. Still, a shark? And, you thought that little pussy-riding prop you brought home to spice things up was “edgy.” Try introducing Jaws to your significant other’s privates and see if one or both of you doesn’t end up taking a trip to the emergency room.

This legend is also appealing because it takes some of the sting out of realizing your favorite rock band is singing primarily about Lord of the Rings characters. Zep aren’t nerds, man! Zep boned a chick with a fucking shark!

Yeah, but is it: Sort of, but in a stripped-down, pathetic kind of way. The widely accepted “true version” of the legend is that the band’s road manager Richard Cole caught a red snapper, and, as the groupie in question was a natural red-head, made the inevitable lame joke and applied the fish to her crimson honeypot. Legend also has it that John Bonham was present, but otherwise engaged in a rousing game of Dungeons and Dragons.

 

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I’m a bartender, and these are the drinks that we secretly judge you for ordering

  • There are certain drinks bartenders like me will secretly judge you for ordering.
  • We’ll happily make you a mixed drink with top-shelf liquor, for example, but we’ll be rolling our eyes on the inside.
  • Here are 16 things you should think twice about before ordering at a bar.

Bars are filled with people trying to look cool.

Maybe you’re trying to impress your squad. Maybe you’re trying, and failing, to woo someone on a first date.

Or maybe you just want to appear cool in front of me, your bartender.

And why not? Bartenders are hip. We stand in front of people and do things most people probably can’t do.

So it’s no surprise that folks sometimes try to impress us — or at least not disappoint us — when it’s their big moment in front of us: ordering a drink.

No matter what kind of drink you order, we’ll happily make it with a smile. But that said, there are some types of drinks we’ll secretly judge you for requesting.

Here are 16 orders that bartenders are sure to secretly judge you for.

You order a filthy martini with a top-shelf spirit

With a few exceptions, such as when the cocktail is super spirit-forward, house cocktails are always made with the bottom shelf — or “well” — spirits. Because why waste a perfectly good top-shelf spirit?

If I gave you a blind tasting of two filthy martinis, one with Grey Goose and one with the well vodka, I highly doubt you’d be able to tell which was which. At least not in a meaningful way.

Some bartenders go so far as to judge any and all dirty-martini orders — especially when a blue-cheese-stuffed olive is requested.

Personally, I’m unbothered. That is, until, you besmirch a perfectly good top-shelf gin or vodka that can stand on its own.

Actually, requesting an uppermost echelon spirit in any mixed drink is kind of silly

Actually, requesting an uppermost echelon spirit in any mixed drink is kind of sillyGetty Images

The same principle applies with any mixed drink. Even if it’s a more refined cocktail, like an Old Fashioned.

I’ll do it. But it will hurt me inside to add even a dash of bitters and a bar spoon of sweetener to the $25 Nikka Coffey Whiskey Old Fashioned you just ordered.

We judge when large groups all order the same thing

We judge when large groups all order the same thingShutterstock

Don’t be square. Live a little. Just because you’re wearing matching bachelor or bachelorette tees doesn’t mean your drink orders have to correspond too.

You ask for your martini shaken

You ask for your martini shakenUnited Artists

Please. Unless it’s a Vesper, calm down, James Bond.

Hint: There’s a reason martinis are stirred. And it has nothing to do with how manly you are, and everything to do with the type of ingredients involved.

Our decision to stir instead of shake is pretty cemented, and it’s based on how the ingredients dilute, interact, and ultimately appear in the glass.

You order an LIT when you’re somewhere fancy

Assess your environment. Look around.

Say, for example, there aren’t peanut shells on the floor, the lighting is decent, and your bartender is wearing a tie, vest, or blouse: Don’t order a Long Island Iced Tea. Or a Blue Motorcycle, an Irish Trash Can, or a Slippery Nipple.

These are cocktails designed basically to get you as drunk as possible as quickly as possible. And they taste … unremarkable.

Let a bartender at a refined joint get you drunk in at least a memorably tasty way.

But by all means, when you find yourself at a dive, go ahead and revel in the blasphemy of combining multiple spirits in one glass.

And when you’re at a dive bar, you order something obnoxiously high end

Don’t ask the bartender what smoked salts the bar has available for a bespoke margarita when you’re at a dive bar.

On second thought, never ask us about our smoked salts (yes, people actually request this). It’s an inquiry that somehow manages to make you sound both silly and pretentious.

You order a rum and Diet Coke

You’re drinking cane-based booze. You might as well pile it on.

You order your drink in ‘fingers’

You order your drink in 'fingers'Getty Images

It’s a joke among our crowd that the under-21s order in “fingers” to try to seem more sophisticated — and less underage.

That’s when customers use the width of their fingers to indicate how much liquor they want.

Basically, if you order your drink like this, I will ask to see your ID. Seriously.

You order a complex drink whose substitutions make it a basic drink

You order a complex drink whose substitutions make it a basic drinkGetty Images

When people try to mask their more basic, but desired, drink choice with substitutions, it’s their insecurity that I judge, not their desire to have a vodka soda.

So please. Just ask for a vodka soda. Don’t ask for a gimlet, sub-gin-for-vodka, sub-lime-and-sweetener-for-soda.

You arbitrarily add egg white to your drink

You arbitrarily add egg white to your drinkGetty Images

Whiskey sour. Amaretto sour. Ramos gin fizz. These are the drinks it is appropriate to request egg white with, if it’s not already assumed.

A gin and tonic is not.

You ask me to make ‘whatever you want’

You ask me to make 'whatever you want'Reuters/Bernadett Szabo

Bartenders hate this. Don’t do it. Be decisive.

Or at least be decisive when I ask a follow-up question.

“Refreshing or spirit-forward?” “Up or on the rocks?” “Bitter or smoky?”

When people insist on sticking with the “whatever you want” script when pressed to answer questions to find a perfect drink, you’re hurting me when you should be helping me help you.

Also, here’s a trade secret from me to you: We have a favorite drink to make. It’s called a neat pour of anything.

You order a well-known brand, but dismiss my suggestions for a better, lesser-known one

You order a well-known brand, but dismiss my suggestions for a better, lesser-known oneCraig Barritt/Getty Images for Johnny Walker

Part of our job is to know what’s well marketed versus what’s good.

So I’ll always throw side-eye to someone who dismisses a suggested spirit that would have probably both saved them money and enhanced their drink.

You order ice in your wine

You order ice in your wineDavid Paul Morris/Getty Images

I say this as a person who does this occasionally. But only on $3-wine night. And with a healthy dose of shame.

You order ‘Tito’s with vodka’

You order 'Tito's with vodka'Colin Young-Wolff

It never fails to amuse me when this happens. And for some reason, this slip of the tongue only happens with Tito’s.

You request an obscure garnish

You request an obscure garnishGetty Images

Some people have weird neuroses about drink garnishes, while others treat the bartender like a Subway-sandwich artist at the garnish station.

I fondly recall when a guest asked for “a single blueberry” in his drink, which for some reason, we had on hand.

Another common eye-roll is asking for multiple Luxardo cherries. Fun fact: Those babies cost $0.33 a pop.

You request a menu drink, but ask to substitute vodka

You request a menu drink, but ask to substitute vodkaMatt Winkelmeyer/Getty Images for Grey Goose

Don’t do this. Don’t make me explain the vast taste difference between scotch and vodka and why that substitution won’t fly.

Then again, it’s fine. You do you. Live your best life. Order whatever you want.

Just know, we are judging you.

 

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day.

Facebook: phicklephilly       Instagram: @phicklephilly       Twitter: @phicklephilly