The 10 Types Of Men That Women Hate

Women have different opinions when it comes to the best types of men, but they are practically the same when it comes to which types they do not like, some men have an incredible facility to cause repulsion in women and it is important to know which 10 types of men less attractive to them and find out if you are in that category.

1- Men who think the soap opera: Women like handsome men but hate the thugs of the soap opera of the eight, if you have been graced by nature do not need to remind them of it all the time, you have the right to find yourself beautiful and have self-esteem but do it subtly and let your beauty be just one of your qualities.

2- Men who prioritize work: Women like ambitious men who want to rise in life, but hate the type who only thinks about projects, meetings and qualification courses, work is very important in a man’s life and you need it to achieve his goals, but never consider him more important than his wife.

3- Men without initiative: They like men with attitude and do not wait for things to happen, it is you who should guide the woman and not the opposite, give her options of places to have fun and when you reach a restaurant have the initiative to find an empty table or call the waiter, never expect the woman to do it.

4- Men without money: You do not have to be rich, but you will never get beautiful women completely broken, you need money to take you in fun places, pay the motel and restaurant, even women with stable financial condition do not like to split the account, when that happens she feels undervalued, so if your salary is short, put your bills up to date and multiply your creativity to find fun places and you do not have to spend a lot of money.

5- Men who talk about previous relationships: They hate the cheap conqueror type and tell their intimacies with other women, so do not talk about ex-girlfriends, they abhor this, if you’ve seduced thousands of women do not worry about telling them why surely she will discover this alone.

6- Mountain Men of Muscles: They are attracted to strong men and not to mountain of muscles, women love to know that you knit hard in the gym, but be careful not to overdo it and look like the Incredible Hulk.

7- Bully Men: Treat the waiter badly, argue in the traffic and face someone who looked at it are unforgivable attitudes, no woman likes to be on the side of a bully man where anything can happen.

8- Stupid men: For extinct men are accustomed to look at any pair of breasts or thighs that are on display, but when you are with a woman on the side know to control, a simple glance can be expensive and cause you to miss a night which could be a lot of fun.

9- Controlling men: Every day is less the number of women who like and find interesting the type of bossy and controlling man, do not like to know that being a partner is interested in exercising power over them, women value freedom and want to be side of someone who cares about her and not the size of her dress.

10- Rude Men: Education, gentleness and seduction are words that match, so learn to treat women well because their biggest complaint is that it’s hard to find polite and kind men.

 

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

Instagram: @phicklephilly    Facebook: phicklephilly

Advertisements

Tales of Rock: ELTON JOHN SAYS HE WOULD HAVE BEEN ‘CHEATING PEOPLE’ IF THE SEX SCENE IN ‘ROCKETMAN’ WAS LEFT OUT

The musical biopic stars Taron Egerton as the iconic gay singer

Elton John said he would have been ‘cheating people’ if the sex scene in Rocketman was left out.

The iconic singer’s life has turned into a movie musical Rocketman starring Taron Egerton and has been released in UK cinemas today (May 22).

And early reviews following screenings at Cannes Film Festival said the film is the first major studio film to depict a gay love scene between Egerton and Richard Madden – who plays Elton’s manager John Reid.

And now, Elton said he didn’t want to ‘airbrush’ the sex scene ‘under the carpet and said he was ‘so joyous’.

He said: “If I am telling my story, it has to be honest.

”I was a virgin until then. I was desperate to be loved and desperate to have a tactile relationship.

”When they tear their clothes off in the movie, that was how it happened. It was in San Francisco.

”I’m so glad it’s in there because I am a gay man and I didn’t want to airbrush it under the carpet.

”This is who I am, and I was so joyous. When he is lying in my arms and I’m sitting back with a smile I’m thinking, ‘Ah, I’m normal, I’ve had sex’…

”I’m proud Rocketman is the first major studio film with a gay love sex scene in it. If I’d left it out, I’d have felt I was cheating people.

”If they don’t like it, I understand, but it’s part of who I am. That night was a very, very important part.”

In Attitude’s June issue, Egerton opened up about the sex scene with Madden and said he felt Madden’s penis on his leg.

“I felt Richard’s penis… On my leg,” he tells Attitude. “We shot a scene where we are both naked on a bed and we are rolling around. I don’t really know how much further we could have gone.”

Rocketman is out in cinemas now!

Watch the trailer below:

 

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

What to do about Philadelphia’s buried colonial riverfront? Developer moves cautiously

The Durst Organization may be one of the largest developers in New York City, but when it comes to Philadelphia, they’re newbies.

At least that’s what principal and chief development officer Alexander Durst told about 30 residents gathered at the Cherry Street Pier to hear about what’s in store for one of the city’s most sensitive waterfront sites.

That would be a Columbus Boulevard parking lot north of Vine Street, an old Hertz rental facility. But going way, way back before it was a parking lot, this now-nondescript piece of real estate was one of the first shipbuilding yards in the city.

The West Shipyard dates to about 1688 and is so pregnant with archaeological potential that it was named to the National Register of Historic Places in 1983 and the Philadelphia register in 1987.

The land is owned by the Delaware River Waterfront Corp. (DRWC), which invited bids for development. Durst is the last developer standing after a rigorous review, said Joe Forkin, DRWC president.

Residents were expecting to hear about building plans — but the plans are still tentative and evolving, Durst said.

So, instead of talking about towers and commercial buildings, Durst and his lead archaeologist, Douglas Mooney of AECOM, an international engineering firm, sketched out the history of the site, and how Durst plans to approach addressing what may lie underground.

Staff Photo ELISE WRABETZ

During a 2012 excavation, head project archaeologist Tim Mancl looks through a trench believed to be the old shoreline of the West Shipyard under a parking lot at Columbus Boulevard and Vine Street.

They are not making any of the design plans public until they have a sense of what is left of the shipyard. What is there may radically affect the what and where of any construction.

Toward that end, in about five weeks, Mooney said, a series of test excavations will be cut into the parking lot surface to provide small windows onto what may lie below. The design for any construction will be informed and in part driven by what is found during this testing phase.

The West Shipyard site potentially holds a wealth of information beneath its cracked asphalt and weeds. An archaeological probe conducted in the late 1980s uncovered a 17th century slipway — wooden tracks used for hauling ships out of the water for work on land. It’s thought to be the only such structure on the East Coast.

Archaeological excavations in 2012 uncovered great rounded timbers and other relics of early river commerce. The timbers were most likely used as fill in the marshy area along the riverfront, archaeologists said at the time. Mooney suggested they also may have been used to haul ships out of the water.

The Hertz lot and everything east to the current riverfront is built on fill piled into the river as the city grew over the centuries. Directly to the west of the site is a stretch of Water Street, which once was on the bank of the river.

Leading down from Front Street to Water Street and the West yard are early-18th century stone steps, the last remaining of the steps to the waterfront that William Penn directed to be built.

Forkin said one of the important aspects of any development would be tying those stone steps to the shipyard site “either visually or physically.”

He promised several public meetings as plans develop.

Residents seemed most concerned by the height of any buildings and the possibility for an enhanced connection to the waterfront. They also want something interesting.

“We need something that’s fun,” said Al Johnson, who lives on Water Street. “This is so boring, what you’re talking about.”

 

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

 

California Dreamin’ – 1982 to 1984 – That’s Not a Guitar. Put it Down

I was with my bandmates passing through Santa Barbara CA. headed to Orange County where we had a gig the next day. While walking around browsing stores and enjoying the nice day we found ourselves in this huge store that had a little bit of everything including a lot of used items. I ran across an odd sized guitar case that was leaning up against the wall so I opened it to see what it contained. Turned out to be one of those latin style instruments with the courses of 3 strings together, can’t think of the name at the moment, but I had never seen one in person and was kinda thrilled and excited to mess with it.

I was plinkin’ away and about that time this kinda dumpy old Hispanic man came up and tried to take it from me. He couldn’t speak English and though not getting especially angry or too physical he was obviously trying to get it from me. I’m like “Hey gramps, I saw it first”. But he wouldn’t let up. I finally gave him a pantomime of “Dude, back off”. With that he walked away and I look at my buddies like what was that all about? A few minutes later the guy comes back with a younger man that could speak English. Turned out the old man was a street musician and that was his personal guitar. He was friends with the store owner and he would set it in that particular spot whenever he took a break.

I was so embarrassed. I told the young guy to explain what happened and that I was very sorry. He was actually pretty cool about it smiled and shook my hand.
But I got ribbed about that the whole weekend. My band mates were all “You big bully stealing an old man’s guitar”.

 

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

California Dreamin’ – 1982 to 1984 – Chapter 15 – Madam Wong’s West – The Yamamato Sisters

“Frank, this is Jill and Vickie. They’re sisters. They’re going to hang with us.”

Frank and I decide to go check out Madam Wong’s West over on Wilshire Blvd. It’s a famous rock and roll place that originated in Chinatown, (See: Tales of Rock – Esther Wong) But the place we’re going is her other location in Santa Monica. It’s within walking distance from our shitty apartment. The goal is to check out the local rock scene and try to talk to some girls.

We are drinking 102 beer at the apartment getting our pre-game on. (it was called 102 because it took them 102 times to get it right. They didn’t, because it was $2.99 for a 6 pack of 16 oz beers!) We didn’t have a name for it back then we just drank before we went out so we wouldn’t spend so much money when we went out. All this accomplished was getting us thoroughly plowed before we walked out the door and then we would just drink more. So it’s a bad idea that we did over and over again. I’m sure we did it for years after that but, youth… live and learn.

I remember that night very clearly. I was drinking a beer in the shower while I was getting ready. I had my boom box on. We had a red light bulb in our bathroom and it was cool. I was listening to “I don’t need no doctor” by Humble Pie. It was amazing.

We get all dressed up and head out, buzzed and ready to see the night in L.A.

We get to Madam Wong’s and realize that although I’m legal to drink in New Jersey at age 18, the drinking age is 21 in California. So I’m fucked.

I get an underage stamp but Frank gets a 21 stamp. Well this sucks. Fucking state laws. I’m pissed but we’ll make it work. We’re a crafty lot.

We go in and head upstairs. It’s got bands downstairs and upstairs.  I love that it’s two floors of rock. We don’t have anything like this back in Jersey. It’s like a giant house of rock. I loved it instantly and wanted to play there.

We find a cool round booth upstairs and take a seat. Some band is playing onstage and they suck. On the table there is a card that says “Two Drink Minimum” and I tell Frank to drop out jackets and go get some beers and I secure that table.

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to go downstairs and procure us a couple of women to join us at our table. So go get four beers. ”

“No fuckin’ way.”

“Way.”

“Okay. Well then have at it Chaz.”

Frank doesn’t know my mad game from picking up babes in Wildwood,NJ for years.

We’ve got our booth and Frank is getting our beers and I head downstairs to hunt. I have no idea what I’m doing and I have very little knowledge of women in L.A are like but at this point I’ve had a few beers and my courage is alive and well in me due to the alcohol.

I’m wandering downstairs and I come across a pair of pretty Asian girls. I’ve never met an Asian girl before. I literally walk up to them and ask them the following:

“My friend and I have a table upstairs. Would you like to join us?”

They say an immediate yes and I take the older girl’s hand and head upstairs. I lead them to the table and Frank’s eyes are like saucers. I can tell my comrade is pleased with my kill. He’s more than pleased. He’s amazed at my prowess.

I was really cute back then and I’ve always been charming.

“Frank, this is Jill and Vickie. They’re sisters. They’re going to hang with us.”

Frank is speechless. I see the joy in his eyes. He can’t believe I pulled this off. He has no idea that this is just the beginning of our California odyssey.

We enjoyed the night with these pretty sisters and got their numbers. We wanted to see them again and go on dates with them. That’s what people did back then. We went on dates with girls. Took them to the movies and record stores and lunch and dinner spots.

Frank and I had no money but if we had a couple of little girlfriends we were going to treat them right. It’s all we knew. I’m from Philly and everybody hates me and I have little history of dating. Frank was in the junior wing of the IRA in Belfast and also has little experience with girls. We just met a really cute pair of Asian sisters. They have our full attention!

We kissed them goodnight and even took some pictures.

We want to see these girls again!

… And we will.

Oh yes… We will.

 

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

Instagram: @phicklephilly                 Facebook: phicklephilly

California Dreamin’ – 1982 to 1984 – Chapter 14 – Santa Monica, CA. – Kesslerville

We found a place in Santa Monica that was up at 23rd and Cloverfield.  There was a guy named Kessler that owned every house on this banged up old dead end street. All the houses were pretty run down so I guess you could call Kessler a Slum Lord.

Our rent back then was $40 a week. That’s cheap as hell even by 1982 prices for apartments.

It was perfect. We lived in a small one bedroom apartment on the second floor. (Over the garage) Kessler was a fat slob that had a shitty van with a dashboard clogged with trash and snakc wrappers.

His house was next door to us where he lived with his wife, and his hot blonde daughter who looked and dressed like Ellie May from the Beverly Hillbillies. (Yea…I wanted her)  He also had a son that seemed like a half-wit that lived in a trailer out back. If you looked out our bedroom window you could see the entrance and roof of the trailer. (Did this inbred have to live in the trailer o he wouldn’t diddle his sister?)

Across the hallway from us lived this old guy named Mike Lamia. He was in his forties and smoked tons of weed and delivered pizza’s for a living. He was divorced and had a couple of kids somewhere. We assumed they lived with their mom. He also said he owned a piece of land out in the desert. It sounded like he got ripped off or it didn’t exist because he said he could see his land, but couldn’t get to it. So it was either on the side of a cliff or all in his drug addled mind.

He would get high all day long and watch his little black and white TV and play the bongos. When he found out we were musicians he was always pitching us songs and we were like, yea that’s great but, fuck no.

The best thing we liked about Mike was he would always share his weed with us. The other thing we liked about Mike was the fact that he ALWAYS had pizza in his fridge. He never cared if we came into his house and grabbed some slices, heated them up and ate them. His door was always open and so was ours. It was kind of cool living next door to a burned out old hippie that had endless supplies of pizza and weed.

Frank and I both worked at restaurants so we always got fed there everyday and there was always pizza so we never went grocery shopping. It was a good setup for a couple of young musicians.

Our apartment was over a garage and Kessler let us jam down there as long as we didn’t play too loud or too late.  Liam and John would be joining us in a month and we’d have a whole band and hopefully start getting gigs. Sometimes Kessler’s daughter Patty and her friends would stop by and hang out when we were practicing. She seemed like the sweet normal one in the family. She wasn’t around much so I assumed she went to college somewhere.

The only drawback to the apartment was the roaches.

They weren’t rampant but they were small brown ones and were present. Frank and I slept in the same room on just box springs and mattresses. Frank’s bed was against the wall near the window that looked over the trailer, and mine was on the other wall by the window that was broken. There was a cardboard banner advertising a circus instead of a window pane. I didn’t give a shit because it was always warm in California.

I remember hanging some shirts up in the closet (no door) Frank and I shared. Written on the wall were the words: “Sadder… Budweiser.” I thought that was a clever statement about alcohol and regret, so I never forgot it.

There was this other couple that lived down the hall from us. They seemed nice and normal. Too normal for this neighborhood of misfits. But one night we were all partying and the doors were all open.  Frank and I are drinking these 16 oz beers called 102. Apparently it took 102 tries to get the formula for the beer right. I’m thinking, what a bunch of fuck ups theses brewers are. But… it was $3 for a six pack! We drank oceans of that shit on our limited budget.

The folks who seemed quiet and normal are fucked up out of their minds. They’re laughing and acting crazy. Even Mike thinks they’re gacked to the nines. I ask the dude what he took and he shows me a bag of mushrooms.

“Want some?”

“No thanks. We’re good.”

He points to a light switch on the wall that for some reason someone drew a turnip in marker around it. He goes: “What’s that?”

“It’s a light switch with a turnip drawn around it.”

“No it’s not! That’s my wife.”

“Your wife is right over there.”

(Points to the light switch) “Then it’s my wife’s vagina!”

“Okay….”

(Flicks the light switch to the ON position) “And now she’s turned on! Get it? HA HA HA HA!”

“Yea, dude. Whatever.”

For the first time in my life I realize that all drugs are different. You don’t just get high. Every drug makes you feel a different way and think a different way.

Mushrooms made my neighbor nuts. Weed makes Mike introspective. Booze just makes Frank and I arrogant, giggling idiots.

Mike cruises over and he is high as fuck. “Hey guys, what if the color blue isn’t the same to me as it is to you?”

Frank: (Drunk as usual) “Check the crayon box, asshole.” (Bursts out laughing)

I love him.

So we liked where we were crashing. We’d come home drunk. Get high and go to bed listening to Steve Miller’s, Abracadabra album on my boom box.

When you’re drunk and high you don’t care how many roaches are in the room in the dark.

I remember lying on that bed and thinking about my be d at home and how different my life was now.

I was happy to be away from the prison of Wildwood and my father’s idea of what our family’s life should be. Poverty was actually really nice to be with my best mate, Frank.

We’ll get there and have a great time doing it. This is only week two here in L.A.!

We need to earn some money and go out and check out the music scene in this town!

 

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

Instagram: @phicklephilly          Facebook: phicklephilly

California Dreamin’ – 1982 to 1984 – Chapter 10 – Yuma, Arizona – Rodeo Week

We drove most of the day across Arizona and stopped in Old Tucson. We went there because Frank wanted to walk around an old western town. It had been used in several films in the past and they do daily shows there for the tourists. It was a fun couple of hours, but we wanted to get back on the road after lunch.

Around Casa Grande we exit onto highway 8 west. That’ll eventually take us to San Diego, CA.

We end up in Yuma, Arizona. It’s right on the border of the state of California. We’re nearly there!

Yuma (CocopahYuum) is a city in and the county seat[5] of Yuma CountyArizonaUnited States. It is located in the southwestern corner of the state, and the population of the city was 93,064 at the 2010 census, up from the 2000 census population of 77,515.[3]

Yuma is the principal city of the Yuma, Arizona Metropolitan Statistical Area, which consists of Yuma County. According to the United States Census Bureau, the 2014 estimated population of the Yuma MSA is 203,247.[6] More than 85,000 retirees make Yuma their winter residence.[7]

The area’s first settlers for thousands of years were Native American cultures and historic tribes. Their descendants now occupy the Cocopah and Quechan reservations.

In 1540, Spanish colonial expeditions under Hernando de Alarcon and Melchior Diaz visited the area and immediately recognized the natural crossing of the Colorado River as an ideal spot for a city. The Colorado River narrows to slightly under 1,000 feet wide in one area. Military expeditions that crossed the Colorado River at the Yuma Crossinginclude Juan Bautista de Anza (1774), the Mormon Battalion (1848) and the California Column (1862).

During and after the California Gold Rush to the late 1870s, the Yuma Crossing was known for its ferry crossings for the Southern Emigrant Trail. This was considered the gateway to California, as it was one of the few natural spots where travelers could cross the otherwise very wide Colorado River.

It’s late afternoon, and we start stopping into motels looking for a place to stay for the night. But every place we go to is booked. After about five fails we finally ask why there are no vacancies in this town. We get our answer from one of the motel clerks.

“Because it’s Rodeo Week in Yuma! It’s one of our biggest events of the whole year!”

“Any suggestions?”

Well, I see you have a van parked in our lot.  You won’t find a room for the night in this town. What we’re suggesting to people is this. Get back on highway 10. Cross over into California. The first exit you’l see is called ‘Sidewinder Exit.’ Take that exit. It puts you out in the desert. There should be a bunch of people out there camping.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

We thank her and get back on the road.

We get to that point and I see the exit. The sun is an orange disc the color of a penny in the western sky. I take Sidewinder and it puts us square in the middle of the desert. There are hundreds of vans, campers and RV’s parked everywhere. Couples and families are all out there camping, cooking and drinking and laughing. Children run about playing on the hills around us.

We find a spot, park the van and decide to do a bit of exploring.

I remember us climbing around on this little mountain. The sun is going down. It amazing how fast the Earth turns. You only really notice it at sunset. Because the sun can vanish on the horizon in a matter of minutes.

I tell Frank I’m going back to the bus but he wants to try to get to the top. I tell him I’ll wait for him back at the van drinking a beer.

I get there and relax in the vehicle sipping my beer and smoking a cig.

But about a half an hour goes by and now it’s getting dark. In the desert at night there is no light.  Maybe a few lights you can see back on the highway, but we’re a ways from the main road.

I get out of the van and start calling out to Frank.

Nothing.

Now I’m getting panicky. What if he’s lost? What if he fell and he’s hurt? What if his leg is caught in something and he’s trapped somewhere. What if he’s attacked by a mountain lion or a pack of coyotes? My anxiety is kicking into high gear and my mind is racing.

Then I get an idea. I grab the flashlight from behind my seat. I go back outside and start calling his name again and flashing the light on and off as a signal. I’m calling, whistling and flashing. Praying he’s okay.

Within a few minutes Frank emerges from the pitch blackness and appears in the flashlight beam. I’m so relieved I just grab him and hug him tightly.

“Man you had me so scared!”

“Ya, me too mate! Good thinking with the lamp!”

“Beer?”

“Fuck sake, please!”

We hung out for a bit drinking and laughing about our day, then slept in the van for the night. I thought it was cool that we spent our last night on the road sleeping in the mini bus under the stars in the California desert.

 

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

Instagram: @phicklephilly                                        Facebook: phicklephilly