Valentine’s Day – My Favorite Victoria’s Secret Super Model

I’ve decided to write about all of the celebrities I’ve met in my life. It’ll probably only be once a month, and I’ll crank them out until I run out of famous people.

First of all, Happy Valentine’s Day to all of my phicklephilly readers! I hope you’re in love or at least love something! If you’re not happy today, and if anyone starts talking about love, romance, hearts, cards, or chocolate, just slap them and say ‘it’s Wednesday!

It’s a coincidence and fitting that I release this piece on Valentine’s Day. Because this lady is and always will hold a special place in my heart.

This one happened about 11 years ago when I was working in Manhattan. The year was 2007.

I was sitting in a dive bar in Journal Square in Jersey City one evening after work. My buddy Howard was with me. I’m drinking a beer and reading the Daily News. On the Entertainment page was a little blurb at the bottom about how Alessandra Ambrosio was going to be making an appearance at the new Armani Exchange in Manhattan on Saturday afternoon.

I think every guy has an “It” girl in life. Some movie star, athlete, or model that they just adore. In the 70’s and 80’s for me it was Farrah Fawcett. I LOVED Farrah. I owned all of her posters starting with the famous red swimsuit. I was even a card carrying member of her fan club. Always watched Charlie’s Angels and all of her movies.

But sometime in the 90’s I noticed this one model in a Victoria’s Secret catalogue that really struck me. I didn’t know her name for several years. But once you have a woman in your life and order something from their catalogue, they never stop coming. They must send them out every couple of weeks because I had loads of them coming to the house.

I eventually found out the identity of this exquisite woman. Alessandra Ambrosio. I was in love. Her perfectly symmetrical face, with her feline eyes and lovely tawny hair is a combination that drove me nuts. I absolutely have adored Alessandra for years. I know I love beautiful women, it’s hard not to. But Alessandra to me is one of the most beautiful women on the planet.

Alessandra Ambrosio was born in Erechim, Brazil on April 11, 1981. Her parents are Brazilians of Italian, Portuguese and Polish ancestry and own a petrol station. She enrolled at a modelling class at the age of 12, and at the age of 14, she was one of 20 finalists for the 1995 Elite Model Look national competition for Brazil. Ambrosio was always insecure about her large ears, and at the age of 11, she had cosmetic surgery to have her ears pinned back, though two years later she suffered complications. In 2006, she appeared on The Tyra Banks Show, and said that the surgery was a bad experience and has discouraged her from ever getting plastic surgery again.

I would love Alessandra the same even if her ears stuck straight out like open car doors!

When Ambrosio was 12 years old, she partook in modeling classes, and then began modeling for Dilson Stein at age 15. Competing in Brazil’s Elite Model Look competition started her modeling career in earnest. Her first notable modeling job was shooting the cover of Brazilian Elle magazine. Elite passed along some of her Polaroids to Guess which led her booking the Millennium GUESS? campaign. She has since appeared in advertising campaigns for Gucci, Dolce & Gabbana, Calvin Klein, Oscar de la Renta, Christian Dior, Escada, Fendi, Giorgio Armani, Guess, Emporio Armani, Moschino, Gap, Hugo Boss, Ralph Lauren, Saks Fifth Avenue, Macy’s, Revlon, and the Pirelli Calendar. She has walked the catwalks for designers such as Prada, Chanel, Dolce & Gabbana, Givenchy, Christian Lacroix, Bottega Veneta, Escada, Tommy Hilfiger, Christian Dior, Marc Jacobs, Louis Vuitton, Balmain, Ralph Lauren, Halston, Vivienne Westwood, Giles Deacon, and Oscar de la Renta. She has appeared in numerous international magazine covers, including Cosmopolitan, Elle, GQ, Harper’s Bazaar, Marie Claire, Ocean Drive, Vogue and was the only model to appear on the cover of Glamour in the United States in 2006.

“I HAVE to go to A/X Armani Exchange on Saturday and try to see her! Do you want to go with me?”

“Why the hell would I want to go meet some supermodel? I’m gay!”

“Well she’s a fashion model and I figured you guys like stuff that’s fashionable.”

“I’m gay!”

So Saturday comes and I go to the local Rite Aid and buy a disposable camera. (Yea. I had a little cell phone back then before there were any iPhones or androids and that little phone didn’t have a camera in it. That thing was probably made by Fisher Price for all I know. A lot has happened in the world of technology in the last 15 years!)

So I’ve got my little cheapo plastic throw away camera and I hop on the PATH train into Manhattan. I get off at 32nd Street and walk East over to Fifth Avenue, The store is up around 56th Street so I need to walk north about 25 blocks. That’s a little bit of a hike. But it’s Saturday in the Summer and Manhattan is quiet on the weekends.

After awhile I finally reach the store. There’s a line of people to get in. I get in line behind this Asian girl and I go, “Is this the line to see Alessandra?”

“Oh, I have no idea. I just saw a lot of people here and I wanted to see what was going on.”

What a moron. How can she not know who Alessandra Ambrosio is?

The line is moving and I get inside.

The minute I lay eyes on the super queen I involuntarily gasp. I literally sucked air sharply into my lungs like I never have before.

I can’t believe I am standing in the same room with her. I can’t believe that I’m not seeing just a photograph of my queen. I am looking upon one of the most beautiful women in the world and the only thing that’s separating she and I is space.

I’m starstruck.

She sits down and starts signing things. I’m snapping pics and my heart is pounding. I’m getting closer!

Ohh…my love. My Queen! She is stunning! They take my name and write it on a little Post It. I assume this is because they don’t want any misspellings on the pictures she’s signing.

I finally reach Alessandra!!!

 

My arm around my queen!

I introduce myself and I can’t believe I am meeting her for real. She says my name and I swoon. My name coming from Alessandra’s lovely lips.

There she is! It’s really her! I’m shaking hands with my favorite woman on Earth. I’m looking into the eyes of the object of my desire for the last 10 years. She signs the photo, and I ask if they will take a photo of me with my camera. She agrees and I hand it to her handlers. I tell them to take a few just in case.

I put my arm around her, and lean in. My hand is on her shoulder! I’m touching Alessandra! My love!

I’m so close to Alessandra, I can smell her.

This is framed in my livingroom.

I will never be the same. I leave with my little camera full of photos, and the above autographed picture.

To Charles, Love, Alessandra. (Heart. Star.)

I love her even more now. I’ve met Alessandra Ambrosio! This day has been a dream come true. I’m holding the picture and I don’t want anything to happen to it, so I run across the street into of all things, a Victoria’s Secret. (Fitting!) I approach one of the sales girls and ask if I can have a bag.

“What do you need it for?”

I hold up the photo. “To protect this autographed picture of Victoria’s Secret model, Alessandra Ambrosio.”

The chick looks like she doesn’t know who Alessandra is and hands me a bag. I gently slide my treasure inside it. (puns abound) I thank the girl and nearly skip to the PATH station.

I’ve added these delicious little videos to close out this piece. I can’t watch the first one without getting worked up. I love her so much.

I met my super queen. I never met Farrah Fawcett. I loved her so much, but I met my new queen Alessandra. It was glorious day in my short life. She’ll never know how much I love her but I met her, We got a picture together, I touched her, and smelled her.

My lovely Alessandra…

 

 

 

 

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Tales of Rock – Why Surf Rock Legend Dick Dale Is Almost 80 And Still Touring

In 1962, legendary surf rock guitarist Dick Dale released his biggest hit, “Misirlou.” You probably know it as the song Tarantino used in the opening titles of Pulp Fiction.

At nearly 80 years old, Dale is still touring, still playing “Misirlou” as quickly as ever. He says if he stops touring, he’ll die. And that’s not the hyperbolic refusal of a star to let old age keep him from rocking. You see, Dale is suffering from a variety of ailments, and they’re all battling to be the one that kills him first. He needs the money earned from touring to help pay his medical bills. These are the health problems he’s had to deal with:

Renal failure Rectal cancer Diabetes Rectal cancer, again Blinding pain caused by severe spinal damage Having part of his stomach and intestines removed because of the rectal cancer.

Hearing of his financial plight, you’d think he’s scrambling for some late-in-life cash to make up for the time he bought Bengal tigers for everyone in his entourage. Not so. Dale wears a colostomy bag beneath his clothes. His doctors recommend that he clean and redress his entry hole once a week, to which Dale calls bullshit. Following their directions made him unnecessarily suffer from the kind of infections that tend to occur when you poop from a hole in your stomach. So he’d rather re-patch twice a day and stay infection-free, but his insurance refuses to cover those costs. The only surefire way to get the out-of-pocket $3,000 a month he needs to cover the cost of the additional medical supplies is to tour.

But touring has turned out to be a double-edged sword, kind of like the metaphorical one Dale uses to describe the pain in his spine every time he stands up. It pays the bills, sure, but he’s in agony the whole time he’s on stage. And there’s always the chance that his medical equipment will fail him during a show. For example, just before taking the stage at a show in Las Vegas, his colostomy bag tore and liquid shit ran down his legs. His wife quickly washed all his clothes in a backstage sink. He put the clothes back on and proceeded to give the 90-minute performance fans had paid to see. Though you can’t really put a price on getting to watch a sopping wet old man who smells vaguely like diarrhea play that song The Black Eyed Peas sampled for “Pump It.”

Facing his own mortality every day for decades has given Dick Dale time to think about the perfect way to go: “On stage in an explosion of body parts.” There is no more appropriate death for a guy who’s barely being held together than to explode like a crash-test dummy toy while playing a guitar really fast.

 

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Racquel Writes! Growing Old Gracefully (or not)!

via Growing Old Gracefully (or not)!

 

http://www.racquelwrites.com

 

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5 Red Flags You’re Too Dependent On Your Partner

As someone who recently started a relationship after six years of singledom, I say with full confidence: This coupling sh*t is hard. Singles get a lot of flak, but the truth is, despite some outdated social stigma, being single is easy for the most part. When you’re solo, there’s no compromise, no one with opinions on your intimate, private life, and no questioning your independence. Forming a new duo or navigating through changes in your existing partnership, however, can leave you wondering where to draw the line before things reach dependency. Luckily, there are some red flags you’re too dependent on your partner that you can look out for. However, they won’t always be entirely easy to spot.

When you join romantic forces with another human, some level of codependency is a given. Having someone to share experiences with, vent to about your problems, split chores with, and permanently act as your travel buddy and wedding date are some of the greatest points in my inner debate against why I shouldn’t opt for the life of the loveless for all eternity. On the other side of that argument? I’ve seen, and been in, relationships where partners do everything together, are incessantly in touch, do not have their own lives, and change who they are to make it work.

“You can’t be looking for someone to ‘complete you’ or for your ‘other half.’ You should be enough on your own,” says relationship expert James Preece. “If you aren’t thinking that way, then you could [very] well be too dependent on [your partner] for your own happiness.” Yikes. So then what are the signs that you’re being too dependent on your partner?

There’s No Me Time, There’s Just Us Time

Spending endless, lazy hours in bed with someone you are madly attracted to is the actual aspiration that I think drives people to date. It’s like this dreamy, cozy vision of a pillow-filled fairy tale. But like all dreams, there is a waking world on the other side with a lot of amazing personal pursuits to be had — one of those being keeping up bonds with the other people you care about. “Neglecting your family and friends is never a good idea, but it can happen if you make your partner the priority,” Preece advises.

Of my coupled friends, the ones I admire the most are the ones who still make the effort to have their own groups of friends, go out separately, intentionally spend time apart, and take solo trips. Actively putting in the time to be with yourself and others outside of your relationship allows for personal growth, valuable time with loved ones, and the much-needed space to exist as an individual.

Their Interests Become Your Only Interests

 

It is really exciting to discover unfamiliar hobbies, interests, and schools of thought. It’s awesome if your partner introduces you to their passions, and even more so, if you enjoy those passions and can start to share them. But keeping your own interests is important, too; they’re a part of what make you, you.

How do people start to assimilate to someone else so deeply, though? “You feel comfortable and want to spend every possible moment with [your boyfriend/girlfriend]. So you give up your own hobbies so you can be together,” Preece explains. “By giving each other space and having some of your own hobbies, you’ll end up becoming stronger. It’s these chances to miss each other and share new stories that deepen your bond.”

In other words, learn some new guitar chords with your rocker girlfriend, but don’t up and quit the soccer team you love to go full Nirvana.

You Try To Become Their Better Version Of You

 

Is there a point to being with another person if you cannot mutually benefit from bringing out the best in one another? I don’t think so. Your partner should have your back, enrich your life, and give you the confidence boosters that aid you in working on what your best is for you (and you should do the same for them). If you find yourself trying to be the better version you think your SO wants you to be, there’s a major issue.

“Some people can’t do anything without it being validated by their partner,” Preece says. “They can’t choose what to wear, eat, or what to do unless they say it’s OK.” Woah, not cool, guys.

According to Preece, this might be the result of deep insecurities or their need to be “told they’ve made a good choice.” “You need to be strong enough to make your own decisions,” Preece continues. “If you [aren’t], they might end up resenting having to think for both of you all the time.”

You’re Easily Angered By Them (For No Good Reason)

 

I recently wrote about the red flags for bad communication in a relationship, one of those being not fighting with your partner. We’re obviously going to fight and make up with our partners. It’s a natural part of being a free-thinking, opinionated individual, and that’s awesome. Talking things out and debating help you and your partner get to know each other, set expectations, come to conclusions (which may vary), and evolve in your relationship.

But Preece warns of another form of fighting that is a red flag of being too dependent: “You might find yourself getting jealous or annoyed with your partner, even though they haven’t done anything wrong. That’s because you are so scared it will go wrong or someone else will get their attention.”

Hey, we all get a bit insecure from time to time, but recognizing that and knowing how to fix it is the differentiator between a learning opporturnity and a major issue. Preece says, “The trouble is, the more you do this, then the more you risk pushing [your SO] away. Try and bite your tongue rather than overreacting all the time.”

Pushover Is Your New Middle Name

You know that whole clueless thing where you let your partner take the wheel without letting your thoughts be known, thus letting your partner walk all over you? Yeah, if that happens consistently, it’s not great. And apparently, it’s usually done out of fear. “Perhaps you are so scared of upsetting your partner that you back down from any sign of an argument,” Preece says. “This ultimately means you’ll go along with things just to keep the peace.”

It is obvious that this strategy hides who you are as a person and, ultimately, impedes on your happiness, but it could do damage to the relationship, too. “If you just say yes to everything, they’ll assume you can’t be bothered or aren’t interested. Having a mind of your own is an attractive quality, so don’t be afraid to discus things in a calm, [considerate] manner,” Preece says.

Finding the balance between too independent and too dependent requires a lot of control, self-assurance, and reflection. But remember, the end result of a happy and healthy relationship is a major pay-off for the work you (both) need to put in.

 

Was this helphful? I’d love to hear your thoughts on this subject!

 

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Protect Yourself from the Dangers of Internet Dating

https://va.topbuzz.com/s/RcdRR

 

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Male Model’s Tinder Experiment Reveals The Look That Makes Women Swipe Right

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Cherie – Chapter 42 – Cheer Me Up

“How was your night with Cherie?”

Me: “She rode me like a stolen bicycle.”

Last weekend Cherie came down and we went to the movies. It was great. We had finally carved out a little time to go on a real date again. I loved it and so did she.

But this weekend Cherie is coming for something else. That thing that she needs so very much. I need to prepare for this event. Fresh sheets, towels, air freshener, candles, and soft music.

She rolls into town around 7:30pm. Scores parking down at 19th and South, and is walking towards my place. I pop down to meet her and think I’ll see her halfway, but she’s right outside of my walk up when I reach the ground floor.

I’m very happy to see her and as usual she looks beautiful and sexy. I notice she’s wearing the black shirt with the criss cross pieces of fabric across the front. (See: Cherie – Chapter 4 – Ribbons) Of course you can’t wear a bra with that top, so her ample bosom is well in sight.

She enters the bedroom. The air conditioning is on so it’s nice and cool on this July afternoon in Philly. She drops her bag at the foot of the bed and sits. We normally do this. Just sit and chat and catch up on what’s been happening in each others lives. This goes on for a bit and then the serenity in my room starts to kick in. She realizes that for the next twelve hours, there will be no children to deal with, no patients, no studying, no stress.

Just the unadulterated relentless pursuit of sexual pleasure. The pursuit is my favorite part. The beginnings. Gathering the kindling. Getting the spark, and then watching the fire in her loins explode before me.

But I can’t just run at her with a torch and a can of gas. It must start slowly. Slowly relieving her of her clothes. Tender kisses everywhere on her firm lean body. Like soft clay in my hands she yields to my every touch.

But tonight’s different. after our conversations and re-connection, she tells me she has to use the restroom. She grabs her bag and heads in. I walk to my desk and adjust the volume of the music on Pandora. The Music for Lovers mix. So cheesy but we like it.

I get a text.

It’s from Cherie.

“Your adopted daughter Jasmine is coming home soon and wants to see her daddy.”

 

Here we go…

 

Cherie comes out of the bathroom wearing a full high school cheerleader uniform. She looks hot as shit. It’s red and white and looks like the real deal. I love this role play stuff she pulls on me. It’s always unexpected and men hate surprises but if your twenty something shows up in a cheerleader outfit and wants to play, I doubt any man would turn this down.

I’m sitting at my desk and she comes over to me and it’s on. Here we go. She comes over to me and plays the precocious daughter role. She says that mom yelled at her because she wanted to go to the mall and get some stuff and it seems like mom has been really mean lately.

Jasmine loves her dad and knows that mom hasn’t been taking care of daddy and she’s sad about that.

This is classic role play and Cherie has clearly worked it all it out in that pretty head of hers. She comes over to me at the desk and looks exactly like a cheerleader. She’s upset with mom. I am trying to be careful here I don’t want to cross over into sex blog from dating blog. But this is very exciting and mind-blowing

She rubs her lovely brown firm thigh against  mine and tells me she wants things at the mall, and I tell her no.

She says she’s been thinking about her daddy and that she’ll so anything to make me feel better.

I’m doing my best to be a good actor but I absolutely love Cherie’s performance. She’s planned this and has a story line. She’s begging to help me and knows I desire my adoptive African American daughter and how its ok because she loves her daddy and how my wife is a bitch and sucks. (not a stretch for me in regard to my ex-wife)  I’m sitting at my desk in my underwear and my adopted daughter Jasmine is pushing on me and I’m putting my hands on her and as I run my hand up her thighs I feel that she is not wearing any panties.

She pushes my hand towards the moist junction between her legs. Then she pulls off my shorts and attacks me.

 

I’m going out of my mind.

 

I was happy to go to the movies with Cherie last week, and now my love has become a 16 year old cheerleader hell-bent on giving me oral.

I resist but of course I have to play it out. How lucky am I? I scan my mind of the laundry list of people I know and what is happening to me right now. Blessed.

Jasmine pleases her daddy. My god it’s so dirty.

Jasmine wants to know how a man pleases a woman.

How do I describe this other than a cheerleader skirt hiked up around firm hips and a rasping pervert between her thighs playing her lady parts like a symphony.

She mounts me and all I see is Jasmine in her uniform. This is a classic fantasy come true. Blow up the outside world. It’s actually feeding into an old fetish of mine. Jasmine is here and ready to go and be accessible to whatever I want.  Jasmine says she’ll do anything I want. She’s just a younger Cherie that wants to please me. She’s so willing. She is exquisite in her role and plays it perfectly.

This is a new role play for Cherie. If you’ve been following this series, you’ll remember her first character was Riley Carter the bad little school girl. That was mind-blowing. Totally different role. (See: Cherie – 2016 to Present – After School)

Cherie stays in character until we mutually decide to stop.

I know this is a dating blog, but making love to Cherie is amazing. It’s like Christmas morning when you’re a child. It’s on that level of excitement and celebration. Cherie is the most in tune with her mind and body than any woman I’ve ever been with. I think black women in general don’t have all the bullshit in their heads that many other women have. They know what they want and they know it feels good, so if they can get a lot of it, so be it.

She’s the most orgasmic woman I’ve ever met. It’s like a dozen times in one session. Can you imagine if men could do that? Cherie is astonishingly orgasmic. She needs a man with stamina that can go for a long time so that she can enjoy all of these multiple orgasms that she has. I assure you that phicklephilly can deliver the goods.

Which would dismiss the sexual chemistry thing where Ambria couldn’t get her train to the station. That had nothing to do with me. (See: Ambria – Atlantic City) I also know for a fact that Michelle’s inability to orgasm with a man was partly in her head and from over self stimulation. (If you get what I mean) (See: Michelle – A Brand New Day)

I’ve never seen anything like Cherie. She has all of these little ones and then has like a massive climax near the end of the act. Like a grand finally! Then there are lots of encores later that night and the next morning. I’m usually tired the next day after a twelve-hour visit from my sexy little vixen.

 

I feel like Cherie is more beautiful and precious than ever to me now.

 

Unfortunately she has to be up and out at 7:30 tomorrow morning. She’s only parked two blocks away so she gets up, showers and hits the road. For me it’s same thing, then back to the salon for the Sunday shift.

That night my buddy Church called me: “How was your night with Cherie?”

Me: “I rode her like a stolen bicycle.”

 

 

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