My Family – The Phoenix – Part 1

When I started writing this blog it was a bunch of crazy dates and series about past relationships. But I knew it would grow and evolve. Now that the dust has settled in my life I can get to the business of writing about what I really want to express. My life. (Don’t worry there will always be crazy dating stories!)

Last year my sisters and I buried our parents.

My mother had died the year before at 86. She was a wonderful woman who was a good wife and mother. She lived with RA (Rhematoid arthritis) for 40 years but never complained and put up with my father for 60 plus years.

She was in assisted living for the last year of her life. She was happy there and said she was never going home. She was with her peers and I know she was comfortable there in her final days.

She always said she wanted to go in her sleep. I think everybody wants that. Just go to bed one night and then just disappear peacefully and quietly. No fear. No pain. Just gone.

The day breaks tomorrow and the world does what it does and you’re just not in it anymore.

Your memory lives on with your loved ones for a while but after a generation, unless you’re famous you’re simply gone. It’s as if you never existed.

She went to bed one night in her pajamas, snuggled down in her bed and just went to Heaven. Just what she wanted. She deserved that.

My mother was a good woman who was really good at taking care of children and a house and animals that she almost seemed born to it. I don’t know if she ever wanted anything more, but my mother never even learned to drive. She didn’t need to and liked to be in her home, doing her thing and drinking her tea.

When she passed she was cremated and her remains were put in a lovely wooden box with a pretty bird carved into the top. My mother always loved birds.

Maybe she always felt like a caged bird. I don’t know.

My father kept the box on the dining room table after she died. I think that’s morbid, but maybe he just wanted some semblance of her there in the big old house with him.

Because now he was alone there. No one to listen to his stories, fears and ailments that didn’t exist or whatever.

My mother was the greatest listened I’ve ever met. The absolute apex of a good listener. I know this because my middle sister April can really talk a lot. So can my Dad. She was always sweet and genuinely interested in what you had to say. She kept her opinions to herself.

There was a surge of attention around my father when my mother died. My father loved attention. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a very charming man and is absolutely great with people. He knows how to get it done in a unique and elegant way. Where do you think I learned all of my moves? I took the best of him, and have done my best to discard the worst.

Before my mother died I had conversations with my dad about how he was worried he would run out of money because the facility she was living in cost so much every month. He actually said, “I’m going to end up in the Veteran’s Home because I’ll be broke.” Healthcare in this country is a financial nightmare, but why would he think that?

Why would he say that?

Fear. But it seemed contrary to his character. I think she was living too long. “She’s very frail” he would say to me all the time. It’s like he needed her to go. I get that. I have a really firm grasp of what life is and what death is too.

I’ve been alarmingly close to them both and although one is priceless and precious, death can swoop in on its black wings and snatch the innocent away for no reason.

So dude… live for today.

Have you met your first-born daughter that you love and loves you more than you can even grasp?

My sister Janice.

You’re never going to end up in the Veteran’s Home, man. Not under Janice’s watch. You should rest easy and smile that you have the strongest person in the family looking out for you and Mom’s best interest.

Free of charge.

But my mom passed and it was sad, but she was ready to go. I’m grateful to all three of my sisters for being present through all of that because I was not. I was just living my life here in Philly doing my thing and popping into the occasional holiday party with one of my young girlfriends.

They did it all, especially Janice.

So once the surge of attention, mourning, adulation, cards, letters, love, and people faded as they always do. My dad decided to fold up his tent and go home.

Initially the loss of mom was sad but she was a really old lady, and we all loved her but we were all prepared for her to leave. You have to prepare yourself for that. Forgive me, but I don’t understand why I see people suffering so long after losing their parents. They lived their lives. You had them for so long but everybody has to leave. No one gets out of here alive.  You have to be ready for that.

The dead have a responsibility to the living and vice versa.

But there is a sense of relief that Mom is now at peace and not suffering with the pain of RA and old age. She was ready to go and she went in her chosen way.

I’d see Dad and he was happy and his usual jovial self. I’d talk with him on the phone and we’d be trading stories and it was amazing. He was finally telling me all of the wild stories from his past that I was never old enough to hear. It was great! I was even managing his Netflix because we both love film and that’s something we’ve alway been really close about.

 

But once the light completely went out on my mom and he was alone in that big house he started to want to get out of here himself. I still don’t full understand it but I think my sister Janice may because she was so much closer to the day-to-day grind of watching him plan his going from this world.

Something changed. He just gave up and got tired of playing onstage anymore. He just wanted to quit the band and work on his solo career in heaven.

It was like he was slowly trying to commit suicide. That’s not allowed in this country but I think if it were and he wanted to really go. I know my father well enough that if he wanted me to I would have been okay with him blowing his last breath in my face.

Because he put my sister Jan through hell that last year. No one will ever know how intense that was but I’ve heard from my sisters. It was as if he was this crazy tiger that kept all his powers, weaknesses, greatness and demons locked up in a den somewhere and then the old cat was left inside that den to suddenly deal with them. All of the things in himself that he had never been fixed came to the surface and cooked him alive.

I’ve lived with anxiety and depression my entire life. I turned it into art and sometimes turned to alcohol just to turn off the pain for a few hours. I like it, but I never let that shit own me. I have a strong sense of identity.

I know my father intimately. I understand his psyche. I forgave my parents for everything in my forties. You have to do that to move forward in your life.

 

Let go of the bars of your cell. Let them fall to the ground and take a step. Embrace who you are and how hard they tried to raise the four of you with not a lot of money. How they had challenges with each other in their marriage and how they should have gotten a divorce but didn’t to hold it together for you and your sisters.

How they became husband and wife and then parents to little new minds and did the very best they could with all they knew.

Much of it was so wrong but for the most of it was pretty darn right. My family is super normal and so are their children.

Even though I have felt much more of the scorn of both of my parents, I’ve managed to rise up from my own weaknesses and be a decent and wise father to my daughter, Lorelei.

I’m blessed with a lovely child that I barely deserve. She too has a strong identity and risen up from the flames of her upbringing with her mother to shine beautifully like the morning sun.

Tune in tomorrow.

I’m you about the day that my parents were really gone.

 

 

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

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Cherie – Chapter 7 – Lion and the Scorpion – Part I

“Do you want more children, Cherie?”

After our epic 10 hour date last Saturday, we decided to go again this weekend. This would technically be our 4th date, but it felt like our 7th. I knew I couldn’t top last week, but I wanted to come up with some fun activities to do with my latest lady.

I looked online for any happenings. It was Halloween weekend, so I figured there must be something fun to do. The pumpkin event at Headhouse? No. Mini Golf in Northern Liberties?  Fuck Northern Liberties. The weather was supposed to be nice. Maybe we could get on the big red double-decker bus and tour the city. I know the city pretty intimately, but it would be fun to get the official tour and be out in the fresh air on one of the last warm days of Autumn.

I go online and buy a pair of tickets. $60. Not bad. Here’s how it works. You go to 5th and Market Streets. The buses run every half an hour. You give them you ticket, and get on the bus whenever you want. That ticket is now good for the next 24 hours. The bus tours around the city and stops at 15 different landmarks. There are even tour guides on every bus telling you what it is you’re looking at. One of the best parts of this tour is, you don’t have to stay on the bus the whole time. You can get off at any number of stops at any time. Why didn’t I ever think to do this with Michelle when we were together? (See: Michelle – A Brand New Day) You chill on the tour, hop off somewhere. Grab a bite. Have a few drinks and then get back on. You could literally eat and drink your way around the whole city for a day. All the while learning things about our fair city. It would be like having your own personal driver and tour guide, while you get hammered all over the city. Genius.

But it wouldn’t be like that with Cherie. She’s a different cat all together. I tell her to meet me at 5th and Market at 1:30pm. I’d like us to start the tour around 2pm. So I have we have this thing called “Cher-time.” I always allow her an extra half hour before we’re supposed to meet at a proposed time. She’s driving down from Pottstown. There could be construction, detours, weather, etc. I’m hardcore about the clock and being on time as you well know, but I’ll make an allowance here. Because it’s she who is driving all the way into the city to see me.

So, I ordered the tickets and printed them out on Friday night. Within an hour, I get a text from Cherie, that she is having babysitter issues, and she won’t be able to get down to Philly until 4pm. That throws a wrench in things. If it were summertime, it wouldn’t matter if we got on the tour at 4pm, because it stays light until after 8pm. But this time of year it’s starting to get dark at 6pm and it’s getting colder at night.

I call the Big Red Bus Company. I tell them my dilemma. The really cordial guy who answered the phone tells me those tickets can be used at anytime. They’re only activated when I actually present them and step on a bus. I was afraid they would expire or I somehow wasted $60, but no. I can use these tickets for another future date, with Cherie!

She doesn’t know any of this is happening, it’s all behind the scenes. I think she’s just a little sad she can’t get down here sooner. I tell her I have everything under control. She says that she loves a man in control.

I like her words.

She’s on her way down and texts me that there is a detour up around 307, because of some rowing event. I tell her not to worry, and just take her time and be safe. She later texts me from 23rd and Cherry. I tell her I’m waiting for her at 21st and Pine. Somehow she gets a little lost, but finally gets to me. I hop in the Saab and off we go. I tell her about the bus tour thing and initially I could tell she was sad that it was too late to do it. I’m looking at her sweet pout lip. I tell her not to worry because we can use them anytime. She’s happy about that. I tell her it’s another day of dating that’s already paid for. I told her if we’re up on the top-level of the bus it may get a little chilly but we can sit in the back of the bus and cuddle to stay warm. She says she’s down for that for sure. I ask her if she has a problem sitting in the back of the bus. She laughs and tells me she does not. It’s not racially insensitive if the person you are with is intelligent and you’re dating her.

I don’t really have a plan at this point. It’s 5pm now. She drives up to a parking lot back out at 23rd and Cherry streets, It’s pretty deserted. She pulls in. There is no attendant. There are some signs up that say weekend permits only. It almost appears we could just park here and nobody would even know the lot is so empty. But being the honest person Cherie is, she pulls up and leans out the window. She starts putting cash in the machine. I glance over at her. She’s half way out the window because she didn’t pull close enough to the machine. Her shirt rides up her back and I see a horizontal patch of lovely brown skin. Framed above her jeans is lacy turquoise underwear. Is she doing this on purpose?

We pull in and she picks this isolated spot. It’s still light out but dusk is approaching. We’re chatting and catching up. But that slowly turns into dreamy kissing. This goes on for a while and becomes quite passionate.

It’s getting dark and Cherie seems to have no interest in going anywhere or seeing anything around the city. She’s content to stay here and be with me. So I start to feel like something is about to happen in the moment of passion. I feel like a teenager again. Making out with a pretty girl in a car in the dark. And then it happens.

The C-Block. The CB. Doesn’t a Police vehicle pull into the lot and circle around and park about 30 feet away at my 10 o’clock position? Just sits there. Motor running. Headlights shining outward. I can’t believe this is happening again. Cherie says the cops can’t see what her hands are doing below the dashboard. She also notes that the idea of law enforcement parked there while things are happening in here heightens the thrill.

It has become clear to me at this point that Cherie is very interested in me. I’m happy about this. I have been on this dating odyssey, and it’s as if I had to go on all of those dates for this woman to be delivered to me. I’ve learned much on this journey. But like she once said to me…” Be careful for what you wish for.” She’s intelligent, funny, easy-going, beautiful, fit, and on the right side of thirty. I think I just checked off every box on my list. Now it appears there is only one box left that needs checking.

But not in front of the cops.

I suppose some of you may be wondering why I don’t just take her back to my apartment and throttle her. I didn’t want to mention this before but I have a 19-year-old daughter. She lives with me. When she came to me during her senior year in high school, I was single. Technically I still am. I don’t want to start bringing strange women into the house just yet. I haven’t even discussed it with her. If she were sitting on the sofa and I just came rolling in with some young chick, and took her back to the bedroom, that just wouldn’t be cool. Maybe when I know the place is clean, and my daughter is away for the weekend for sure. I’m sure the situation is the same for Cherie. Her son is 6 years old. It’s just weird bringing a strange man into mommy’s bed. I have a lot of will power and am a very patient man. I’m not worried. We’ll figure it out.

Anyway, we’re getting antsy. Cherie suggests we take a walk. I agree. It’s a nice night. This way the police sitting there for the last hour doing nothing will see that we are clean upstanding citizens. Not some interracial couple that has to hide their forbidden romance in some vacant lot on the outskirts of town.

We walk a ways. So I figure maybe I’ll take her somewhere and get her something to eat. But she has other plans. We walk a few blocks and end up on this small street with very little on it. We get to the middle of the block and she stops. She just wants to hang out and make out. I can’t believe this is happening. When I think of all of the drinks and dinners I bought for these other women, and felt nothing, this little vixen just wants to play with me. This goes on for about 45 minutes. It’s a deserted street. We’re right in the middle of the block facing each other. So I can see if anybody is walking up the street or if a car is coming. She can do the same in the opposite direction. Again, I feel like I’m 17 years old and I’m out at night with my 14-year-old girlfriend, Anne. We’re just holding each other and chatting and kissing and gazing into each other’s eyes.

Feels like love to me.

From the very first meeting we just sort of clicked. I thought she was great chill girl. She liked that I was a white gentleman that made her laugh. Yes, I did gather more intel on this date. Her son’s father clipped her when she was 17 years old. He was in his 30’s. He was white. She said they waited until she was 18 to have sex. I agreed with that idea. (Avoid those pesky statutory rape laws.) Apparently he was married and has 4 other children! She says she was not the home wrecker. They bet in a bar but I didn’t push her for details. I asked her to describe him. I didn’t know what to expect. She simply said. 5’9″ okay looking. A douchebag. Also she seems a little sore that he doesn’t spend as much time as he should with his son with her. But he does pay child support. So kudos, buddy. But put some more time in with your boy, asshole. You only get one chance.

They’re only children ONCE.

But here’s the best part of all of that. She works in a pediatrician’s office as one of her two jobs. She says she loves children. She wants to be a doctor that practices pediatric neurosis when she finishes her education. That’s awesome. So I’m assuming, young woman, loves kids, already has one would probably want another one or two to round out the dinner table. Based on these stories you know that my last 3 relationships all ended for that reason. I already have been married. I have a child. I have paid over $125,000 in tax-free money to someone who is not a nice person and hurts those around her. My ex-wife has already burned through her second marriage and has another kid.

But I digress.

Oh sure, I could get married and have another kid and live happily ever after. Sure that could happen. But based on my track record, it’s a sucker’s bet. If I did that and somehow fucked it up again. My child support payments would be coming out of my Social Security checks. No. Just place the gun in my mouth and gently curl your finger so that everything I ever was ends up on the wall behind me.

So I pull the trigger. The lynch pin in this lovely, seemingly perfect romance. Because this way I don’t have to say my last 4 relationships ended for the same reason. I can still say 3, because this beautiful flower that has grown between Cherie myself in the last few weeks will be stomped into the earth under the hob nail boot of reality. Doomed from the start. Destroyed before it could ever flourish.

“Do you want more children, Cherie?”

Tune in 2 weeks from now for the chilling conclusion to this deal breaking tale!

 

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

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Celebrity Sightings: Valentine’s Day – My Favorite Victoria’s Secret Super Model

“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’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…

 

 

 

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day at 8am & 12pm EST.

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Amanda – The Fur Coat Incident

“Oh, the majesty of the chance encounter where you can embody a porn star, go by a different name, work in a field different from your own, lie about every aspect of your life and feel damn good about yourself.”

This ones from a few years ago. I was hanging out at the The Ranstead Room. It’s a cool, dark speakeasy bar in center city. I think her name was Amanda but I could be totally wrong about that. I can’t remember when we met or how we started making out but like magic, we were. She was slender and had nice curly dark hair and she was unapologetically wearing a fur coat.

We made it back to my apartment and we proceeded to do all the filthy things that you would want to live out in a one night stand. Oh, the majesty of the chance encounter where you can embody a porn star, go by a different name, work in a field different from your own, lie about every aspect of your life and feel damn good about yourself.

You are willing to go beyond your typical repertoire because there is simply no judgment. I tossed her around into all the different positions that I could imagine and we just genuinely enjoyed our awesome fuck session.

When it was over, I made the mistake of trying to go again but a lot of whisky had been drank that night and I was trying to write checks my body couldn’t cash. Needless to say, the spark was gone. About halfway through my attempt at a round two, she suggested that we take a break and go outside and have a cigarette.

My god I was thankful. I quickly threw on a pair of pants and a jacket and by the time I got to the door, she was just wearing her fur coat. She didn’t have her skirt or underwear, just her fur coat and everything else was naked, it was kind of sexy. Anyway, we get out to my balcony and she starts telling me that she forgot her cigarettes. I offer her one of mine and she was like “No way, those aren’t menthol” and I was like “Cool, I’ll go find yours”. I go back into the house for a few minutes looking for her pack but can’t find them or her purse.

I then go back out to ask her where she could have left them when I see it. She climbed down my fire escape to the ground level and was running across the street completely naked (except for her coat), without shoes or anything in the middle of winter. She hails a taxi and gets the fuck out of there. I never saw her again after that. She left her clothes and shoes in my apartment. She had her purse the whole time. As I was watching her naked ass run down the sidewalk I remember wondering if it was because I was that bad of a lay.

But then it dawned on me….I didn’t give a shit.

 

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

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Church – Money Monday

Flushed with the excitement of all of the antique trains that my sister Janice and I sold in York, I knew I should get the cash portion of my sales into the bank. (See: Train Show in York, PA)

I walked up to Cavanagh’s Rittenhouse to take advantage of their Monday lunch special: 1/2 off all cheesesteaks. I was a little banged up from the night before from celebrating our winnings. Ann Marie my favorite bartender came over to chat. (See: Ann Marie – 2015 to Present – Rose Among The Thorns)

I order a beer, and the usual. Ann Marie is her usual charming self. But she has to get back to the bar. I open my laptop and write a bit until my lunch arrives. It’s perfect as always. I’m feeling happy about how well we did at the show in York, and just glowing at how much fun I had hanging with my sister.

Church shows up, and while we’re sitting there he tells me he’s waiting on a phone call about a new job. Within a few minutes his phone rings and he has to step out.

I order another beer. Probably not the best idea because it’s early. I never really ever have a drink until 5pm. But today I’m celebrating a win, so fuck it.

Church returns and tells me the company he was interviewing with just called him and offered him the job. I congratulate him on his success, and I pay the bill and head out. Church drives me to my bank and I deposit my loot.

I’m relieved that I’m no longer carrying around all that cash in my pocket! We park the car and run into the bartender and server from Sofitel, Liam and Laura. We’re chatting with them and they’re both off  from work, so they’ve been hanging out and drinking. We agree to all meet up later for a drink somewhere.

Church suggests we go to Gran Caffee L’Aquilla. I took my friend Emily there and she loved it! (See: Emily – 2016 to Present – Super Baby Sister) Church knows the bartender there and we’ll probably get the hookup. (Free and discounted drinks) But what Church doesn’t know is one of the owners comes to the salon to tan. He left something valuable in one of rooms and thought it was gone. I found it behind a chest of drawers and recently returned it to him. Although he speaks little English, I could see the look of delight on his face when I handed it to him.

We go to the bar and we’re chatting with Church’s buddy and I see The owner guy.  He comes over and smiles and shakes my hand. He starts talking to the bartender in Italian, and I can sort of pick up that he’s telling him the story of my search and rescue of his belonging.

He walks away and I ask the bartender what that was all about. He says that I’m getting a special hookup.

“A hookup just this time?”

“I think you will be getting special treatment for a while here.”

Sweet! So I order up some chardonnay and sip away chatting with he and Church. I’m getting pretty buzzed. The conversation is flowing and so is the wine. I tell Church I’m supposed to meet up with my friend Carly at 5:30. (See: Carly – 2012 to Present – The Mad Baker)

I’m getting texts from Liam and Laura (Bartender and Server at Liberte’ Bar at Hotel Sofitel) that they want to grab a drink with us. I’ve had one too many already, so I suggest the Gold Club. The seedy strip club downtown. (See: Johnny R. – 2010 – Present – Needle in the Groove) I’m not really into strip joints as you know, but I figured it would pull a good story for the blog with some decent crossover characters.

We get there and grab a table in the back. Liam rolls in and tells us Laura forgot her ID and they won’t let her in. Who the fuck leaves the house without their ID, especially if they’re going out drinking? But Laura has many issues, this being the least of them.

So Liam and Church are chatting about who knows what, not even taking part in the revelry happening onstage. They are literally facing each other as if they are not even in a strip joint. So I’m enjoying the show and my buzz. Fuck them.

There is some chick swinging on the pole and she’s looking pretty fit. “Living After Midnight” by Judas Priest comes on and I’m digging her more. I also notice she has a lovely pair of distended nipples on her small breasts. She’s good. The next song to come on is “Starbreaker” also by Judas Priest from the Sin After Sin album. Now I’m loving this woman. Those are her song choices. This lady speaks my language and likes metal.

When she’s finished her dance she glides over to me and sits next to me. She seems really sweet. Fair skinned, lean, with auburn hair. I decide to get something I haven’t gotten in years. A lap dance!

Church and Liam are still being a pair of buzz killigtons in the corner. Why the fuck did I bring them here?

Anyway, me and “Tigre” head into the champagne room. (There’s no champagne room at this dive. Just little private booths.) I sit in the chair and she pulls the curtain as she straddles my lap. I’m actually loving this. I never do this anymore!

She takes off her top and starts grinding on me. Normally in gentleman’s clubs you can’t touch the girls, but in this shithole, you can pretty much do what you want. Why do you think my buddy Johnny R. loves this place so much? Free blow jobs.

But alas, dear readers I am a gentleman and I genuinely feel for these drug addled single mothers. Tigre is swiveling on my crotch, I’m running my hands up and down her sleek thighs. She presses forward and her nipple touches my lips. I defy any man to resist a nipple placed near their mouth. (Google: ‘Rooting Reflex’)

It’s funny when I’m with Johnny R. I resist the vice probably because he’s doing enough of it for the both of us. But for some reason tonight, I want to partake. While my other two friends are sitting out in the main room playing circle jerk.

Tigre is offering me her soft pretzel bites and I’m enjoying them so much! There is nothing else going on between us sexually other than that nibbling.

But anything that’s super fun is always over too quickly so our little session wraps up and I we go out to the main room again and sit. Tigre’s very nice and seems pretty normal. She says she works Monday through Friday, noon to six.  She volunteers her number and puts it in my phone. I see what’s she’s doing. Building a return client base. If it’s ever a slow day, she can summon up a few of us to come in and see her and she’ll increase her daily revenue. Shrewd chick after all.

I’m done, and have to go meet Carly for happy hour. Church goes off with Liam. I think this is only happening because they’re supposed to be going to Laura’s apartment. Which all revolves around the story Liam told to us when we all went to Angel’s Envy event. (See: Church – Angel’s Envy) Apparently when Laura gets drunk she breaks out her huge melons. (I’m positive that’s the ONLY reason Church is going with Liam to her apartment.)

On a wing and a prayer, Church thinks he’s going to see those glorious puppies.

I do my usual happy hour thing with Carly at Square 1682. We catch up and I’m a little fuzzy on the details because I’d been sipping since 1pm.

Apparently Church’s phone’s dead. Seems like it’s always on the verge. I even recently bought him a cool battery thing that my friend Cheyanne turned me on to. (See: Cheyanne – 2016 to Present – Elegant Power) I can’t get a hold of him and I’m drunk and annoyed at this point. I finally reach him through Liam.

I meet him at his car on Chestnut and now it seems I’m drunk enough to believe that if I go to Laura’s apartment I’ll get to see her major league sized yabahos.

Laura lives in a nice little apartment at 12th and Walnut. She and Liam are sitting there watching Jeopardy. Church lies on Laura’s bed. (Which I don’t get, but I think it was a studio so there may not have been anywhere else to recline.)

Laura is crushing cocktails and pouring me as many as I want, and I’m crushing Jeopardy. Drunk or not, Phicklephilly knows his trivia.

Things get fuzzy afer that. I know nothing happened between anyone at the apartment. I just remember Church driving me home. As I climbed the steps inside my four story walk up, I suddenly really have to go to the bathroom. I’m banged up and struggling with the lock on the door to my apartment.

I’m really having a tough time and the brown beast is growling with fury in my bowels. The lock has been sticking lately in the humid weather. I crank the key and the lock suddenly pops. And so does my ass.

Yep. I shit my pants.

Money Monday, my ass!

 

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

Instagram: @phicklephilly Facebook: phicklephilly

Tinder Moments

Hello all. I’ve been at this dating thing for awhile as you all know. I’ve encountered my share of ups and downs. There have been the fun ones, the boring ones and the crazies. While on this journey, I’ve met a lot of interesting people. But I’ve looked at thousands of profiles on these online dating sites. Every once in awhile I get a ringer that really tickles my Phickle.

Here are some of the craziest dating profiles I have encountered since I’ve been at this. I thought I should share a few of them for your enjoyment just so you know what’s out there.

Enjoy!

 

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Crazy right? Keep your heart open and have a great week!

 

 

 

 

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

Instagram: @phicklephilly     Facebook: phicklephilly

 

 

 

Phicklephilly – 1962 to Present – Try Me

All you have in this world is your personality. That’s the very thing that carries you forth in this world. If you don’t have a good personality and good people skills, you better work hard and be on point. Because that’s all you have. But if you don’t develop a good personality, people won’t like you and you’ll fail. They won’t let you succeed but there will be those in power that have shitty personalities that will see your beautiful one and they will try to stomp you down, because you possess a power they do not. This will  happen more than less. But if you surround yourself with bad people, they will bask in your sunlight and drain the very light from you. They will be false people. The further you have to reach for them the easier it will be for them to pull you down.

Surround yourself with strong and good people. Hard working, honest people. They will give you power and embrace you and see your gifts. They’re difficult to find. But keep looking and follow your mind and your heart because sometimes your heart can deceive you. The heart becomes clouded with sex and beauty and promises of wonderful things.

Stay the course and try not to become jaded. Continue to develop your personality and keep your heart open and pure. Always be working to evolve, but always be open to love.

But there are those that don’t have your power that will come to you for help. Choose them wisely. Help them, but don’t give them solutions you already know will help them. Just be present. If they’re good and kind, give them your time and your words and experience. Don’t push them. Only they can find their own way on the right path. They may choose the wrong one, but just be there for then to listen and care for them if they are truly good. If they are bad, discard them because you cannot help them.

Work hard to know the difference. I know you’ll be frustrated with them in their life but think of your own. Wouldn’t someone you care for be frustrated with the choices that you’ve made?

Of course they would.

Be there for the sweet fragile souls that need you and are good people in their hearts. The good ones that are damaged by themselves, or weakness, or have been crushed by rotten people or circumstances.

Be that person. Be patient. My mother was a patient woman. She put up with a lot of bullshit and came from nothing. Stand for something. Don’t fall for everything.

Help others, but beware of the fleas and ticks, because they are many, and would love to find purchase on the glorious, luxurious coat that is your good nature and wisdom.

Go forth and love again!

 

 

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

Instagram: @phicklephilly                              Facebook: phicklephilly