Valentine’s Day – I Met A 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.”

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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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Sun Stories – Colleen – Oh Fudge! – Part One

“I think you should let her pay $35 and the rest in fresh fudge.”

“Fuck no. It’s $65 a month. Wait…did you say fudge?”

The game is afoot.

This pretty Irish girl came into the salon the other day. I sort of remembered from our previous location. I looked her up in the system and the memory came back to me.

“I remember you Colleen! We had some great conversations at the old place.”

“Yea, the new place looks great! I was wondering what happened to you guys and then I went online and saw your new address.”

“I haven’t seen you since last year. I know you were living in Jersey.”

“I got a job here in the city and bought a house in South Philly.”

“Congrats! Good for you!”

Shannon is a lovely, tall girl. There has a certain confidence and honor in her personality. Just old fasshioned goodness. I find that very attractive. She has a very social personality and a hard work ethic. Somebody like my sister April. Strong. A leader.

“Yea, so I want to tan and I know you are the only salon in the city that had the basic beds because I’m cash poor because I just bought a house.”

“Oooh… We didn’t bring the basic beds with us down here.”

“What?”

“Yea, we just didn’t have room for them.”

“It was like $35 for a month of tanning wasn’t it?”

“It was a great deal. I’m sorry.”

“What do you have now that’s a monthly package?”

“The All Access for $64.95.”

“65 bucks? You’re killing me. I really want to tan, but I’m just not in a position to lay out $65 a month right now.”

“I feel like you’re going to leave and I’m not going to see you again.”

“I just can’t right now.”

“Do you still work part-time at the Fudge Kitchen in Cape May?”

“I do. Best employee they’ve ever had. Why?”

“My partner, Achilles loves to eat. But his weakness is sweets. I literally can’t leave any candy here because he’ll eat it all like a piranha.”

“So what are you proposing?”

I take a risk here. “What if I ask him if you can pay your old rate of $35 a month but you get the All Access package that goes for $65 but you make up the difference in delicious fresh fudge?”

“I can do that. If you can make that deal with your partner, I swear to god I will bring you $35 tomorrow and I can get you the fudge by Tuesday.”

“Let me see what I can do.”

Shannon leaves and I promise to keep in touch with her. If this doesn’t fly, I know I’ll probably never see her again, and I really like her.

______________________________________________________________________________________

I decide to have a conversation with my partner, Achilles.

“So this girl Colleen came in the other night. She’s come here for years and has always tanned in the basic beds. But we don’t have them anymore. She recently moved to the city and got a great job at a law office and bought a house.”

“Is there a point to this story W?” (Achilles calls me by the first letter of my last name. He also doesn’t like long-winded stories or small talk. He’s a ‘get to the fucking point’ kind of guy)

“I think you should let her pay $35 and the rest in fresh fudge.”

“Fuck no. It’s $65 a month.     Wait…did you say fudge?”

The game is afoot.

“Yea, she’s doing well now but cash poor because of her new house, but she’s worked at the Fudge Kitchen in Cape May, NJ since she was a kid and keeps her hand in there to pick up a couple of bucks here and there when she can. She says she can make up the rest of the payment in delicious fresh fudge.”

He looks at me. He’s working it out. I watch his eyes.

“Thirty five cash money and two pounds of fudge.”

“Excellent! I’ll call her and tell her! Thank you! She’ll be so happy, and we’ll have retained a client! You can eat the fudge or share it or even give it away if you want!”

“Don’t be fucking giving away my fudge already W! That shit’s mine.”

“Okay…okay… I’ll broker the deal.”

“Worst case senario, she pays $35 cash and doesn’t come through with the fudge… No tanning package and I’m $35 richer. The dye is cast.”

Ruthless motherfucker, but that’s why I love him.

This is beautiful. I’ve been a million dollar producer in the banking industry and in advertising for the last twenty-five years and now I’m retaining clients using nothing but sumptuous treats.

I call Colleen from the house phone and leave a message.

“Hi Col, it’s Charles from the salon. I have some good news. Give me a call back.”

I’m working and tanning the ladies like I always do when the phone rings. I give her the details.

“Really? He went for it? I’ll be in tonight!”

Let’s see if Colleen holds up her end of this extraordinary bargain…

 

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 6 – Be Careful What You Wish For – Part II

“Show me where there was a hole in your pants.”

“You’re driving!”

So she fires up the car after some more kissing and off we go to Dave and Buster’s. If you’ve never heard of it, it’s a big arcade down on the waterfront. It’s got a big restaurant area, a section with a bar, a billiard room, and in the back, this giant area with all sort of games where you can do just about anything. But you can also win a bunch of tickets and then turn them in for shitty prizes. The place is great for families and couples because there is tons of stuff to do and everybody loves it. We powered up our cards with points and went to town. She did really good on some games and I got 500 points on the Wheel of Fortune game.

I think our favorite game there, hands down was Jurassic Park. I love dinosaurs and all things Jurassic Park. Cherie loves games where we can team up and just shoot the shit out of stuff with automatic weapons. It was glorious. I read somewhere recently that if you do something exciting on a date, they will associate you with excitement. Bear this in mind. We are getting lost in the game, taking out raptors and T-Rex’s right and left. We kept re-upping with our cards, to keep the game going. We did this several times because we were having so much fun, until we realized that a couple of little boys were waiting to play. We hopped out and turned our weapons over to them! We both agreed we could have sat in that booth all day destroying Jurassic Park and it’s inhabitants all afternoon if we had the time and money.

We had earned a bunch of points but we were really there just for the fun, and never redeemed them for any of the junk they had in their little prize shop in the back. Maybe next time if we need a couple of plastic spiders or teddy bears or decoder rings.

So after two hours of games, we headed to the parking garage to fetch the car. At this point Cherie has been with me for over 4 hours. I check with her to see how she’s with time and all, and she’s fine. Being from Pottstown, She doesn’t know the city like I do, so I’m her co-pilot and navigator. We’re heading west on Spring Garden, and I have her throw a left on 19th street. I figure that’ll bring us right down into center city and we can get some sort of dinner. We get to Vine, and there’s a detour. Okay, I get it. Lot’s of construction going on in Philly. City is growing. That’s a good thing.

So now we’re heading west again. But we can’t turn left again anywhere. The Police have more streets blocked off. We get out to the Philadelphia Museum of Art and everything is still blocked off. There’s some sort of event going on out front of the PMA. Lots of people and little white tents. If Cherie had been on her own she would have been totally lost. We kept heading west unable to turn left and head back. I suggested we turn right and go north. We drove up a winding street out in Fairmount and I had her turn right on Poplar. That’s how far North we were.

Although we were basically driving around for an hour, I liked that Cherie described it as a road trip. I told her if she just stayed on Poplar and kept going, we’d get back to center city. We chatted about different things, work, school, family, etc. At some point I told her my ripped pants story. She laughed and asked where the hole had been in the other pants. We had been a little frisky earlier and there had been some suggestive flirty talk so things had changed a lot since 1:30 this afternoon.

I told her about this guy I used to know who always thought about things mathematically. So if you went on a date and you were out for say, 2 hours, that was just a date. But if it was longer, like say over 4 hours he would count that as 2 dates. Make sense? It did to him. She says, so technically we’re no longer on our 3rd date we’re on like our 5th. I laugh and say yes, according to my friend.

She goes, “show me where they were ripped.”

“You’re driving!”

We stop at a light and I take her hand, and slowly raise my left leg and place her hand there under my crotch. I know this is an extremely forward move, but it was playful and I think she really wanted to touch me. So I say, “right there.” She says, “okay” and rubs the spot gently. The light turns green and she has to focus on driving. We laugh about the whole silly hole thing. We basically spent the next 20 minutes looking for parking. Maybe it was  a half hour. But instead of it being stressful and annoying like you would think it would be, it was a lively road trip as she called it. We were just enjoying each others company and were having a good time. Cherie is so patient and laid back. It’s wonderful.

It’s dark now, and we finally find a spot for the Saab down at 23rd and Christiansen. She’s like, “are we really far away from everything? Because I don’t know the city.” I exclaim, “After that trip, I don’t even know where I live anymore!” We laugh and smooch and get out of the  car. I ask her if she’s hungry and she says yes. We’re walking north on 23rd street now. I see this guy walking carrying a pizza box. I tell her that whenever I see that it always makes me smile, want pizza, and maybe follow him. I ask her if she could go for some piping hot delicious pie. She says she can and I tell her I know just the place. They do brick oven and they even have a bar there.

We go into Mix Pizza at 21st and Chestnut. I’m a big fan of this place. She doesn’t want any weird kind of pizza even though they can make you any combination of sin you want on your oven baked pie. She’s so easy to get along with. We order an 18″ half pepperoni, half plain. My favorite. She gets a root beer and I get a diet coke. I look at the cocktail menu. She asks me if I want a drink and I tell her I don’t. I just don’t feel like drinking. Little does she know, she’s the drug I am currently on.

I ask her if she’s ever had anchovies and she says they’re nasty. I agree. I go on to tell her this story about this girl I used to go out with when I was in California in the early eighties with my band. She loved anchovies. So we would order a pizza and her half would be anchovies and mine would be plain. But the horrible rub was this. The pizza is hot in the box when you get it. That nasty, salty anchovy juice would bleed over into two of MY slices. So technically she was getting 6 slices and I was getting only 2 slices of what I liked. It was gross. But I loved her so it didn’t really matter. She asked a little more about her. I told her I was 19 at the time and she was 18, and that I had met her through a girl I worked with at this restaurant. I also told her I relieved her of her virginity. I didn’t mention that she was black. She was my first black girlfriend. I don’t know why, but things are still new and I just didn’t want to get her gears turning that maybe black women are a fetish or a thing that I jump into once every decade or so. I know, it doesn’t make sense, but I have to be careful with this lady’s heart.

The pizza comes and we tear into it. It’s delicious. She picks up her slice and starts eating it but it’s hot. I tell her to be careful that the hot cheese doesn’t slide off and slam into her chin, burning her beyond recognition. We laugh about it. I of course am eating mine with a knife and fork. Cherie’s amused about this but says she likes that I am such a neat eater. Most men devour and attack food. I carefully dissect my food and then consume it. She doesn’t care and compliments me on being so sweet and such a gentleman. It’s nice to be appreciated. At the end of the meal we still have 4 slices left. When I go to Mix and I’m really hungry, I normally get the 12′ pie. I can crush that thing. I figured there were two of us and I didn’t know how much she would eat. But we’re basically done. I ask the guy to wrap it up. He says it’s still good for later. I agree.

I pay the bill and head back to the car, which is far away but it’s a nice clear night. I’m carrying this big pizza box as we walk south on 21st street. I have suddenly become the man I see on the street that I want to follow. I’m the guy with the pizza. I ask her if she wants to take it home and she says not really. I’m not really a leftovers guy, and don’t feel like carrying this huge box anymore. I want to hold hands with Cherie.

We get to 21st and Sansom and I tell her I want to make a quick stop. She’s fine with it. Just like she’s fine with everything. I may have never met a woman who is this easy-going in my entire life. I hang a left on Sansom. I tell her how much I like Sansom street. It’s just this little narrow street between Chestnut and Walnut but it has so many different cool places on it. The Ritz movie theater, Helium Comedy Club, performance spaces, bars, restaurants, record shops, a comic book store, a gay porn place, I mean everything. I should do a chapter about a tour that I take and go to every place on Sansom in a day.

We get to 19th street and walk past Cavanaugh’s bar. There’s an alcove that appears to be a loading dock for the back of maybe Boyds department store on Chestnut. There’s usually a few homeless people getting some shelter in there. I see a man, in ragged clothes with a pile of his stuff. He’s not one of these street grifter types we have here in Philly. This man is really homeless. I cross the street, with baby in tow, and approach him with the box in front of me. “Did somebody order a pizza, half pepperoni?” I say, offering the box to him. His eyes light up, and a smile appears on his weathered visage. He takes the box and thanks me. “You’re welcome. God bless you.” I say as we walk away. I look back and he is tearing into the pizza.

“You’re a good guy.” she says, rubbing my back with her hand. I smile and say, “Movies, arcade games, road trip, pizza, and feed the homeless? I’d say this has been an epic date.” Cherie agrees. We walk hand in hand all the way back to the car.

I know I’m writing about my personal life and the experiences I’m having with women in my life here in the City of Brotherly Love, but I’m not one to kiss and tell. I’m trying to keep this story classy. It was late. Somewhere around 10pm. We made out in the car for a bit. The radio never came on once. Not even when we were on our road trip. We were just enjoying our time together. A friend of mine had asked me recently that when I went on these dates with these women, did I miss them after the date was over? Was there a longing for them. I flatly told him, I sort of enjoyed my time with them, but for the most part I was relieved it was over. I could go back to the batcave, have a drink and a cig and get back to my quiet life. But this girl was different. It’s like we didn’t want the night to end. We would have just sat in her car and made out like a couple of teenagers. There was a point in the night when she just had that dreamy look in her eyes. I could see it and I know I had it too. That feeling is magic and hard to find at my age. But it was late, and she had to drive back to Pottstown. I wanted to be considerate of her time too. She drove me back to Rittenhouse and we said our good nights. More kisses.

We decided that because of our busy schedule this week we couldn’t do a lunch. But we did nail it down for next Saturday. So this is moving forward. I asked that she please text me when she got home to let me know that she arrived safely. She promised she would. I got out of her car, and went into my building.

Wow. That was a 10 hour date. May be a record this early in the game. Feels like a match.

I went into my apartment and turned on some lights. I went back downstairs, and she was gone. I stood on my stoop and lit a cigarette. It tasted glorious. I just wanted to be out in the fresh air and pull on that cig, basking in the afterglow of a perfect day with a lovely charming, woman. I’m having real feelings for this girl. Will it last? Who knows. I’m just going to enjoy this and let the universe unfold as it should. If it works out will she want to get married and have kids, and then it will end like the last three?

Probably. But for now, love is in the air and I breathe it in deeply, and blow it out in a cloud of smoke into the autumn evening.

P.S. I did get that text from Cherie and hour later and she was safe and sound. We agreed the day was epic and amazing. I wished her only sweet dreams that night. Maybe I would dream of her too.

 

 

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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Tales of Rock – Liam and Noel Gallagher

Given that their creative partnership is based on barely contained homicidal rage, getting both Gallagher brothers on the stage at the same time has proven to be a bit like refereeing a slap fight between two chimpanzees–only with less crap throwing (probably) and more shrieking of the UK’s favorite C-word (definitely).

Liam and Noel Gallagher are the immensely talented brothers responsible for Oasis, the most successful band that everyone wants to punch in the face. Brash and outspoken, they’re known for spouting off about Blur, AIDS and how they hope everyone in Blur gets AIDS–comments which have predictably not gone over well with Blur, AIDS sufferers or anybody else.

Rock stars saying stupid things isn’t that remarkable. What really makes the Gallagher boys so difficult to deal with is the ridiculous amount of fistfights they manage to get into between themselves. A typical example: Following a canceled show in Barcelona, during a friendly conversation Liam raised his doubts about the fidelity of Noel’s wife and legitimacy of his daughter. (We will assume that Liam did so as delicately as he knew how.) This ended unsurprisingly when Noel headbutted his brother and then punched him in the face.

Our favorite story, though, is the one where Liam decided to bring a bunch of people he’d met at the pub back to the recording studio where Noel was working, which understandably irritated Noel somewhat. Noel’s role as the reasonable person in this story ends when he reacts to this interruption by attacking Liam with a cricket bat, breaking his foot.

Given that their creative partnership is based on barely contained homicidal rage, getting both Gallagher brothers on the stage at the same time has proven to be a bit like refereeing a slap fight between two chimpanzees–only with less crap throwing (probably) and more shrieking of the UK’s favorite C-word (definitely).

A Typical Day If You Were Oasis’ Personal Assistant:

You: Liam, don’t. Don’t throw that poop. Don’t throw that poop, Liam. Listen to me, Liam. Do not throw that poop at Noel. He’s your brother and you love him.

Noel: You fookin love me, man. Don’t you throw that poop at me.

Liam: Fook! -he throws the poop at you instead-

You: AGHR! Ahh! What the hell have you been eating? Is this… is this a battery?

Anyway…. This is Wonderwall.

 

 

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Dooms of dating….still!! — Sensuality, Sex & Something else

So you have been introduced to the little lady R, the hottie Ryan and our repeat offender Wendell, now it is time to meet O!! We talked for about 3 seconds before he asked me out for lunch, normally I would immediately back off when someone is so forward however he was entertaining and could speak […]

via Dooms of dating….still!! — Sensuality, Sex & Something else

 

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Vampirella #12 – July 1971 – Part 2

It was a Sunday in July, 1971. I was 8 years old about to turn 9 in August. Back then we lived in Northeast Philadelphia in a neighborhood called Lawndale. On Sunday my father would take me and my sister Janice to a bookstore called Brad Allen’s in the next town over. I don’t really remember why we went to that particular bookstore, but the main reason was so my father could get the New York Times. My dad read the Sunday times for as long as I can remember. Without fail he would get that paper every Sunday.

So sometimes he’d take me and Janice with him. Maybe it was just to spend some time with us and give my mother a break.

My parent’s would probably turn you down if you wanted a toy, but they’d normally say yes to a book. When we would go to Brad Allen’s my dad would usually let us each get a comic book or something.

For the life of me I can’t remember a single other comic book that my dad got me at that store. I kind of remember him letting me get some little digest sized books about insects and mammals, but other than that, zip.

But Vampirella #12 holds a very significant, almost watershed moment in my life for me. Technically it wasn’t a comic book. It was the size of a magazine. It cost fifty cents.(Comics at that time cost fifteen cents) The comics inside this magazine were in black and white and for a little older reader.

I just thought the cover looked cool with the creepy looking vampire dude, holding the lady. This is a classic scene in any old horror movie.

When we got home, I started reading it. The first story was about Vampirella. The artwork was solid but I wasn’t thrilled with the story. But the next one was ‘the one’. It was entitled, “The Eye of Ozirios.” It was about this warrior queen named Amazonia from a land called Karkassone, who after this evil Baron and his minions kill a bunch of villagers and kidnap their women, she takes it upon herself to stop him. Armed only with a magical sword she leaves her palace to get some payback.

She’s a hot blonde queen this Amazonia. She goes to the bad guy’s palace and starts shredding the scenery. Slicing limbs, chopping off heads, stabbing hordes of bad dudes. Her steel blade drinks deep from many a man’s flesh.

The interesting thing that lends itself to this story, is that over the course of three pages and all of this violence, Amazonia’s clothes are starting to shred and come off. The metal breast plates and mail tunic are gone and she’s naked from the waist up.

She fights hard and kills many of them, but alas is eventually disarmed and captured.

By this time she’s just down to a white rag hanging around her waist that barely covers her buttocks and pubis. She’s shackled and then tied to an X shaped wooden cross. She’s to be sacrificed to The Eye of Ozirios.

Eventually Amazonia escapes and destroys the eye by throwing a sword into it. Once it’s destroyed whatever comes out of it kills all of the bad guys and then turns them to dust. Our girl, still wearing only what could be compared to a torn handkerchief for a bottom, walks bare breasted back to her city.

So let’s review: Hot blonde queen. Great body. Loads of violence. Clothes being torn off. Nudity. Domination. Humiliation. Bondage and Sacrifice.

That’s a lot of sexual imagery for an 8 year old boy. But he doesn’t know that. It’s just a crazy barbarian story and he loves reading stuff about barbarians, broadswords and monsters.

But while reading this particular story I got an erection.

First of all, let’s look at the science.

Boys get erections all the time. According to specialists erections in kids is not uncommon and is not a cause for concern.

The causes? Often early erections come for no reason at all. According to specialists, they are most probably just uncontrolled reactions, like startling or gripping, and simply indicate that the child’s nervous system is working properly. Erection could also mean that the boy’s bladder is full and he “needs to urinate”. In younger boys mild constipation can cause intermittent erections that are not painful and the problem resolves immediately.

How to handle child erections? We all know that babies are curious, eager to learn more about themselves and the world. Child erections are part of his attempts to get to know his own body. Although they may make you feel embarrassed, it’s important to handle these situations with utmost attentiveness and tact.
You mustn’t make the boy feel ashamed, as if he is doing something dirty. Keep in mind that your behavior at these first stages will influence his sexual outlook and behavior in later years.
Try not to panic and don’t let the boy get over excited. You can put him in a cool bath and try to distract him until thing return to normal.

How kids are likely to react: Erections are very common in most young kids. They usually start in early childhood. Some kids find them pleasurable, but many feel uncomfortable when the erections are strong and last for a while. In such cases, as they are not accustomed to this kind of feeling, they sense something abnormal, so they complain or cry out in pain.

Basically boys get erections all of the time for no reason at all. It may just be the body running diagnostics on a part of the vessel that will need to work properly in the future.

I remember getting erections all of the time as a kid, and to be honest with you I remember it was just a physically uncomfortable feeling. Not stressful, or cause for alarm just something your body did occasionally. It didn’t last long and you forget all about it.

Because there’s nothing to sexually tie to it. You’re prepubescent. Your penis’ only function is liquid waste elimination.

But… I noticed that every time I read this comic magazine, (which contained other stories with naked women in them) I got an erection. So after a while getting an erection for me became a sense of arousal. I don’t think I had all of the facts of life yet, but my body was automatically responding to the visual stimuli.

Nudity wasn’t taboo in my house growing up as children. My parents weren’t hung up on all of the nonsense tied up in how the human body is dirty. I remember us all being cool with being naked when we were little kids. It was an honest healthy environment. But once puberty hits, the doors close and privacy is respected. It was just a natural transition.

So if anybody ever tells you some garbage about sexuality being a choice, walk away from that moron. It’s just biology and science and how you’re wired. I was predisposed to like girls more than boys. My brain and body were already wired to enjoy the sight of the female form.

So thank you Dad, for buying me Vampirella #12 back in ’71. It was the first glimpse of  understanding my own developing sexuality as a boy.

In a closing note, I will tell you I have a copy of the original Vampirella #12 framed in the hallway in my house. No one knows why that particular comic is framed, but now they do.

The lovely Vampirella! Her magnificent legs!

If you’d like to see what made me horny forty-five years ago, I found a link to an archive so you can take a look!

https://archive.org/details/warren-vampirella-012

Enjoy!

 

And finally, here’s a little video I found online. This girl’s a cute cosplay Vampirella. If she ever showed up at my house, I’d happily let her sink her fangs into my neck!

 

 

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Vampirella #12 – July 1971 – Part 1

Vampirella is a fictional character, a comic book vampire superheroine created by Forrest J Ackerman and comic book artist Trina Robbins in Warren Publishing’s black-and-white horror comics magazine Vampirella #1 (September 1969). Writer-editor Archie Goodwin later developed the character from horror-story hostess, in which capacity she remained through issue #8 (November 1970), to a horror-drama leading character. Vampirella was ranked 35th in Comics Buyer’s Guide’s “100 Sexiest Women in Comics” list.

Vampirella initially appeared in Warren Publishing’s black-and-white horror-comics magazine Vampirella #1 (Sept. 1969), running to issue #112 (March 1983). The title was a sister magazine of Warren’s horror anthologies Creepy and Eerie. Like those magazines’ respective mascots, Uncle Creepy and Cousin Eerie, Vampirella hosted horror stories, though unlike them, she would also star in her own story, which would headline each issue. Vampirella was initially edited by Bill Parente. It would later be edited by Archie Goodwin (issues #7–12, 34–35), Billy Graham (#13–16), Bill DuBay (#21–50, 87–95, 101–102) and Louise Jones (#51–86).

As comics historian Richard J. Arndt describes, “Forrest Ackerman created, or at least had a strong hand in creating, Vampirella and he clearly had a major influence in shaping the lighthearted bad-girl story style of this issue as well.” Her costume and hair style were designed by comics artist Trina Robbins. The character’s first story artist was Tom Sutton. Artist Frank Frazetta’s first-issue cover “was a substitute for the original cover by European artist Aslan.”

José González became the character’s primary artist starting with issue #12. Other artists who would draw Vampirella during her magazine’s original run included Gonzalo Mayo, Leopold Sanchez, Esteban Maroto, José Ortiz, Escolano, Rudy Nebres, Ramon Torrents, Pablo Marcos, Jim Janes, John Lakey, Val Lakey, and Louis Small, Jr.

Jose Gonzalez is the greatest Vampirella artist in my opinion. He just really captured the beauty and sensuality of this character.

This image is my favorite and was available in the early 70’s as a six foot tall poster. As a leg man it’s a wonderful painting. I own one of the original prints of this masterpiece and it formerly hung on the back of my bedroom for many years. Vamiprella is simply spectacular to me and you’ll soon find out why.

Backup features appearing in Vampirella included “Tomb of the Gods”, “Pantha” and “Fleur”. Vampirella herself also appeared in a story with fellow Warren characters Pantha and the Rook in Eerie #94–95, and with most of the Warren characters in a company crossover special in Eerie #130. The final issue of the original Vampirella was cover-dated March 1983.

Read the conclusion tomorrow!

 

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