Adalyn – 2015 – Crazy Is As Crazy Does

“I’m in my date’s bedroom, she’s lying on her bed, drugged and intoxicated, she takes off her top (now topless), grabs my neck and starts kissing me. Her mom, who is standing there, leaves the room to give me some privacy to do what can only be considered date rape.”

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I’ve been using Tinder for over a year or so now, and I’ve always been pretty lucky. However, this incident was a different story.

Flashback a day earlier, we matched on tinder. I’m chatting with hot Adalyn. Raven hair, tan skin, and dark eyes. From her pics, I can see she has a smokin’ body. She’s definitely on the right side of twenty-five.

I suggested we skip the long chats and go for a drink, she suggested we chat on the phone first. We did for an hour and it was nice. Some laughs, some flirting and we agreed to spend the next morning in the park. We met, everything is going great and all signs are saying we’ll end up having crazy sex very soon. Left the park, had lunch and then agreed to go back to my place. She said she needed to pass by her place to change and get some stuff. No problem.

Things were moving quickly.

She introduced me to her mom, her dog, her cat and some neighbors. Seemed like she was getting a little too cozy for a tinder date. Then she said: “change of plans. My mom is going to spend the night at my brother’s place. Would you mind spending the night here instead?” I thought, why not? I’m getting lucky so I don’t care. She started preparing dinner and I started drinking. She started pounding drinks as well. I was feeling pretty good, but I could see she was already getting pretty banged up. Turns out her mom is going nowhere, and I had too much to drink. So in my drunken mind I decide to stay with them for the night.

That’s when things started to get crazy. The dinner table had shrimp and oysters with bacon (which I hate). So I started eating the shrimp, when my date offered some oysters. I politely declined and said I was happy with the shrimp. She insisted so much it got awkward, so I took it. She asked me if I liked it, I smiled and said nothing. She started getting angry, and yelled at me that I should be more direct and speak up. I told her I didn’t like it. It might be good but it’s not for me. She started yelling at me and demanding an explanation why I don’t like it.

That’s when her mom jumped in and tried to defuse the situation. To my surprise, Adalyn grabbed the shrimp plate and threw it across the room straight into the wall. Then she stormed away into her room.

That’s when her mom explained to me that Adalyn had been in and out of rehab because of depression and alcohol abuse. She also had two suicide attempts, and that she was on medication. She was not supposed to have any alcohol.

Now I’m feeling really sorry for her.

After awhile, she came out of her room, laughing as if nothing happened, and brought out some dessert and more champagne. Things seemed to be cool now. I tried to relax. But then, quite suddenly, she stood up and challenged me to a fight. She started throwing punches at my chest and stomach and then to my face. I was blocking or slipping all the punches and asking her to stop. Then she got really vicious, and started adding kicks to her attack. I grabbed her arms, put my weight on her, and took her to the ground. She totally collapsed and lay there unconscious.

I carried this poor deranged thing to her bed. When she opened her eyes, she smiled and then all of a sudden took her off her top, (now topless) grabbed my neck, and started kissing me. Her mom, who was still standing there, left the room to give me privacy to do what could only be considered date rape. (which I obviously didn’t do) I pushed her away, and started walking backwards out of the room, when she gave me a final kick to the stomach goodbye.

I ran out of the house and down the street. I called an UBER and was on my way back to Rittenhouse.

Not crazy enough? I woke up the next morning to a few missed calls from my date.   A couple of voicemails with a casual apology, and a couple of ideas for our second date.

What?

 

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

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Harper – 2014 to 2015 – Part 2 – Plane Explodes. No Survivors

Another tale of one man’s journey navigating his way through the dating scene in Philadelphia.

South Street

I once hung out with her on South Street. She bought little Indian finger bells to clear the aura or feng shui of a room she was working on. Then she bought a chair and had me carry it on my head across town back to her apartment. It really was the easiest way to transport it, but I looked like a wicker turtle walking around with that on my head. When I got to her place she gave me a glass of scotch. Then she asked me to turn a big rug in the living room. What am I, the hired hand?

She lived with two or three other people in this house in a crappy neighborhood. She said she used to have sex with her one roommate, but then he got a girlfriend and stopped banging her. So now she says she has to listen to them have sex in the next bedroom. She doesn’t like that. I think it’s funny that she thinks it’s ok to shit where you eat. We had a cig and then she took me up to her room.

For an “interior designer’ it was a bit messy. Her underwear on the floor and what not. She showed me that the room was broken into four “stations” and each one had different magic stones or crystals on the furniture in that space. It was supposed to give off different energies. Yea, just crazy shit. But I will tell you this… Crazy is only good in one room of the house and it’s not the kitchen. At least I got to take that kind of her crazy for a test drive that afternoon.

Seaport Museum

I was invited to an event at the Seaport Museum. I was with Harper on South Street. We were at a bar called Tattooed Mom’s. There was going to be tons of free food and booze at the event. It was if she wanted to get a few drinks into her before she went. Maybe she has social anxiety. But then she tells me she rode her bike to South Street. WTF? So I have to call an UBER, but one that is an SUV, because we have to pack her bike in the back of it. Then drive to her house. Then she has to get changed, so we can then get to the event. I was aggravated and pissed, but I still liked her.

So we finally get to The Seaport Museum. We’re late and you know how much I hate lateness. I get a drink and as I literally walk outside to smoke a cigarette, these dudes bum smokes from me. But before I can lie and say I left them inside, fucking Harper says, sure! Then looks at me for the cigs. I fucking hate that. I’m taking it on the chin for $10 a pack now. That shit isn’t cheap. These guys are around her age and she immediately starts chatting them up like I’m not even there. You treat her really well and she just goes and starts flirting with other guys. She’s awful.

I go inside to get away from these turds and to get another refill because I need it. I run into my pal Johnny R. and I’m happy to see him. He can see I’m stressed about getting down here and her behavior. We get some drinks and chat a bit. He’s with his girlfriend and another couple so he has to hang back with them. I run into another friend and he can see I’m stressed but the booze is helping like always. Knocking the edge right off.

I see another girl who is equally nuts that I know, and I just avoid her and get back to Harper. (See: Kylie – 2014 to 2015 – Broken Wing) She’s done chatting with the smoke bums and gives them her business cards. I know they’re just going to call her to try to bang her. But I can’t worry about that. I think I had such a good buzz on that night I almost bought her a painting she liked. I was not thinking clearly back then.

I once took her to Matyson (One of my favorite restaurants that sadly isn’t around anymore) and she acted like a drunk asshole. Spilling champagne, etc.

Horrible Night

One night we went to a nice wine bar called Tria near Washington Square. I knew the waiter so I got the hookup. She was somewhat well-behaved there but it seems the more she drinks, the crazier she becomes.

After that we went to Indeblue in mid-town. It’s a cool Indian bar. All I remember was her putting stupid cocktail napkins on her head and having me take her picture with the bartender, Awful. Then she wants to stop for one more drink at Fergie’s pub. We go in there and she makes everybody at the bar move down so we can sit down. She proceeds to make fun of the bartender, saying how she thinks he’s mentally dim-witted. She starts chatting with some older dude on the other side of her and then said she was leaving. She asked if I was going to leave as well, and I told her I was staying. She left and I was already chatting with a pretty black girl to my right.

Once she came over to do tarot cards with me and started rearranging the furniture in my house. Oh, and drank non-stop. Insane! Who does shit like that?

I heard from a good friend of mine that on one of her interior design gigs, she rolled a chair into a closet and onto a $5,000 wedding dress. That was after she just dropped her keys onto the client’s Steinway piano when she came in. She didn’t get the job.

I can’t talk about this idiot anymore. It’s making me angry just writing about this lunatic.

This could all be chalked up to a few things. Mental illness mixed with alcohol and drugs.

 

 

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

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Lorelei – 1996 to Present – 21st Birthday

“I’ve been waiting so long to meet you.”

Normally Friday belong to Tales of Rock, but this is a special day for a special person in my life, so Tales of Rock will be back next Friday.

I remember the day Lorelei was born like it was yesterday.

Her mother and I were sitting on the sofa and she was complaining of some pain. Possibly contractions. For hours I denied the fact that today, November 17, 1996 would be the day Lorelei would finally come to Earth.

We drove to the hospital and we admitted Lor’s mom. They ran some tests and gave her an epidural. I remember it was by a cool Indian anesthesiologist. He gave her the shot in her spine to numb the pain. He said she would feel a warming sensation in her lower torso. I remember him saying, “You’re going to feel hot buns.” His humor broke the tension and fear. These professionals deal with this stuff on a daily basis and it eased my mind that we were in the hands of consummate professionals.

We found out the umbilical cord was somehow wrapped around Lorelei’s neck so she would have to be born via cesarean section. I remember calming her mother as the doctor made the insicion and  quickly pulled our little baby girl from my then wife’s womb.

As the surgeon went to work sewing her back up, I assured Lor’s mother that our child had ten fingers and ten toes. I followed the doctor over to a little table where they carried Lorelei and started to run the Apgar tests. The Apgar score, the very first test given to a newborn, occurs in the delivery or birthing room right after the baby’s birth. The test was designed to quickly evaluate a newborn’s physical condition and to see if there’s an immediate need for extra medical or emergency care.

Although the Apgar score was developed in 1952 by an anesthesiologist named Virginia Apgar, you also might hear it referred to as an acronym for: Appearance, Pulse, Grimace, Activity, and Respiration. (Never knew this until today!)

The Apgar test is usually given to a baby twice: once at 1 minute after birth, and again at 5 minutes after birth. Sometimes, if there are concerns about the baby’s condition or the score at 5 minutes is low, the test may be scored for a third time at 10 minutes after birth.

Five factors are used to evaluate the baby’s condition and each factor is scored on a scale of 0 to 2, with 2 being the best score:
1.Appearance (skin color)
2.Pulse (heart rate)
3.Grimace response (reflexes)
4.Activity (muscle tone)
5.Respiration (breathing rate and effort)

Doctors, midwives, or nurses combine these five factors for the Apgar score, which will be between 10 and 0 — 10 is the highest score possible, but it’s rarely obtained. But in my mind Lorelei got a 10 because she was MY daughter and we strive for excellence in everything we do. (Lol!)

I know I’ve spent a little too much time on this segment, but I always like to learn new things. I also like my for my readers to learn things from phicklephilly as well. (Even if it’s something I’ve done and now you know not to ever do it!)

I’m looking at my daughter Lorelei for the first time. She’s on her back, looking all red and crying. They’re Apgar testing her and cleaning her off.

She’s beautiful. She already has little blonde ringlets of hair on her sweet little head. (Later as a toddler, she would earn the nickname; Sweet Wheat. I’d say to her, “Why do I call you Sweet Wheat?” And she’d reply, “Cause I’m sweet and my hair’s the color of wheat!”)

I’m reluctant to touch her, but the doctor tells me it’s okay because she says she came from a toxic place. (It’s Lorelei’s day so I’m going to refrain from any negative comments about her mother) I gently touch her and her skin is so soft and new. (Brand new human!)

“I’ve been waiting so long to meet you.”

Those are the first words I ever spoke to my little Lorelei.

She was always good baby and was an absolute pleasure to raise. Here she is now 21 years young!

I remember when I turned 21. It was 1983 and I was living in Los Angeles. My girlfriend Clio and I had tickets to see David Bowie on his Serious Moonlight tour in Anaheim. I remember us driving in my 1969 VW minibus to the show. The van for some reason quit while we were driving there. It just died. The vehicle had never done that before but here we were being gently pushed off the highway by a truck full of kind Mexicans.

I remember Clio being really disappointed. We waited awhile. Back in those days there were obviously no cell phones, and if your car broke down you were pretty much stranded. After awhile I attempted to re-start the van and the engine finally turned over.

We missed the show but who knows, maybe we weren’t supposed to go. I don’t know. To make it up to her, I took Clio to a nice Italian restaurant and I tasted veal for the very first time.

So my 21st was sort of a failure. But I loved Clio and she was a good sport about everything. I had arrived in Los Angeles in 1982 and those were crazy times with me and my band. I’ll be publishing a series entitled; California Dreamin’ in late 2018. Those will be some of the craziest stories ever told in this blog.

Anyway enough about me. Lorelei has lived with me since she turned 18 and she’s been a pleasure to have around. She comes and goes as she pleases. It’s a chill household and we like it that way. She cooks and cleans and takes care of her space. Being vegan she’s always making some interesting concoction in the kitchen.

She works as a food runner at a local restaurant in Rittenhouse. She seems to like it and they like her.

Recently she recorded herself singing and sent the tracks along to a guy that manages musical acts. Originally he thought maybe she could be a singer in a band, but after hearing her four octave voice, he thought maybe she could work as a solo act.

She’s recently created her own line of specialty soaps on Etsy.com. They are zodiac themed and each one has a corresponding crystal inside the soap. What’s cooler than good energy and karma while you’re in the shower?

Tonight she and her friends are going to the Electric Factory. It’s a music venue here in Philly. It’s open to all ages and she’s seen shows there before. But to control the crowds all the alcohol is on the second floor balcony.

They’re going to see Martin Bresso, known by his stage name Tchami. He’s a French producer and DJ from Paris. He’s regarded as a pioneer of the future house subgenre.

Lor is looking forward to finally being able show her ID, get the wristband or stamp that says she’s 21 and head upstairs. For the first time in her life she’ll be able to order a beer unencumbered. Funny how when you turn 18 you can vote, join the military, be in porn, even buy a gun.

But you can’t buy a beer. That’s fucked up.

Anyway, if you’re reading this Lorelei, just know that I love you and that you are the brightest light in my life. You give me hope and I can appreciate life more knowing you are in this world with me.  Please know that you have made me a better person, and you’re the best thing that has ever come into my life.

I love you.

Enjoy this special day!

Let’s go out and grab a drink together sometime soon. I’ll show you all the cool spots.

Cheers!

 

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

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Harper – 2014 to 2015 – Plane Crash – Part 1

Another tale of one man’s journey navigating his way through the dating scene in Philadelphia.

The Demented Doll.

What’s worse than a Train Wreck? That’s right. A Plane Crash! That’s what this chick is.

I was out with my friend Keila (The girl who knows everybody!) one day at Misconduct a couple of years ago. I think she was between boyfriends. Whenever you’re out with Keila she always runs into people that she knows. She runs a Women’s Networking Collective and meets tons of ladies. She holds these events about once a quarter. She’ll get forty to fifty women out for the event. But in that process she becomes acqauinted with all different kinds of women. I’ve found that in all of my years in business that the people that go to these networking events really need it because they don’t know many people, and are trying to grow their business. Some of the craziest women I have met in Philly have come through Keila. First there was Carol. Crazy. Then there was Bibi. Not good. Now this chick. Bad news.

So Keila says; “My friend Harper is going to join us.” I assume it’s someone she’s known for awhile. Nope. Just another one of those “fleas and ticks” types that keep attaching themselves to Keila.

So Harper shows up and she’s a nice looking girl. 28 years old. Tawny hair, a ring through her nose and some ink. I don’t really care for the last two, but she’s kind of hot. I was attracted to her immediately. Back then I couldn’t identify the crazy like I can now. She sits down and we’re all drinking. I’m digging her. She seems artsy and sweet. We leave Misconduct and go over to Crow and the Pitcher on 19th Street in Rittenhouse.

We have a few more drinks there. Crow and the Pitcher has a guy that just handles cheese. He even has this little cart he rolls out and let’s people pick what they want. Keila is flipping out over the cheese guy. She must love cheese. (Rats also like cheese, but more in a later post) Harper’s very flirty. But she’s sort of flirty with everyone, which I don’t care for. It usually means a girl is either easy or a user of people.

So after awhile we leave Crow and walk through Rittenhouse Square. I whip out one of those electronic pens. The vape thing the kids are all doing now instead of smoking real cigarettes. But this has hashish oil in it. So it gets you high. I don’t use it anymore. Just lost interest. Weed was never my thing, but I get why people enjoy it. I just went through a phase where I was smoking weed, because for the first time in my life I worked for a company that didn’t drug test.

So Keila said she was heading out to get her car. Harper asked if she could smoke some of the vape pen with me. Of course I shared. Harper told Keila that she wanted to stay behind with me and hang out some more. So after Keila left, Harper and I sat in the park and smoked some more and then she said we should stop and get one more drink some where else. I started to think that maybe this girl liked me. (That, or she’s an addict of some sort)

But that was not the case.

Harper attaches herself to a host like the sea lamprey she is and will get everything she can out of them. She doesn’t really have any friends because the only people that hang out with her are women who don’t know her well enough, and dudes that want to fuck her. That’s it.

So we get one more drink at Aldine. Aldine is on the second floor right next door to Drinkers Pub at 19th and Chestnut. We chat some more and I start to learn about what a nut she is.

She’s originally from Mississippi. Lived with her Mother and brother. Not too much data on dad. (Red flag) She currently works as an interior designer. She doesn’t have a degree in that or even a license to do that job. She just “read six books on the subject.” That would be like me watching all seven seasons of Mad Men and saying I know how to create and pitch advertising campaigns to international corporations.

She belived in all kind of astrology stuff, tarot cards, and those gem stones that you put around your house for energy and good luck. It’s all nonsense and superstition. This tells me she’s a dumb person and pretends to be more than she is but is so weird people find her off putting.

It’s so painful to be around her once you get to know her that you just want to cut her off and hope you never run into her again. Here’s what happened on different occassions when I was with her.

She doesn’t even use her real last name. Just a shortened version of it she came up with. Even has the fake name on her business cards.

She told me she once shaved her head and buried her hair in the sand on a beach in New York. That’s bat shit crazy.

Once climbed a tree out front of Friday Saturday Sunday (Restaurant in Rittenhouse) and asked me to take pictures of her for Instagram.

I’ll write more about this harpie in two weeks.

 

 

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Annabelle – 6/5/2013 to 4/17/2014 – Chapter 14 – I Can’t Quit You Baby

Adults speak to one another and close the relationship. It’s wrong to put a person on a shelf like they are some sort of toy, and then think you can take them down and play with them whenever you’re confused or lonely. It’s just shitty behavior. The person you’re doing that to is a human being with feelings. You’re a rotten person if you think that sort of behavior is okay.

This is the most painful chapter I have ever written on phicklphilly. The pain and sadness Annabelle has caused me is immeasurable. But the saddest thing is she doesn’t even know it because she is so lost as a person. Just a fool running errands for others that are making fools art.

Annabelle had officially dumped me on Thursday, April 17th, 2014. She texted me a day after that, and we made arrangements for me to get what little stuff I had at her apartment. She was nice enough to tell me that she’d bring it down to me. It was just shirts and stuff so I was fine with it. I was happy I didn’t have to drag myself out to Northern Liberties to go get my shit because I hated going out there.

It was a sunny Saturday morning when she showed up and handed me a bag.  I thanked her and asked her how she was doing. She said a little sad and depressed. I told her I was too. (A bold-faced lie)

She asked me if I was hungry. I told her I was. She asked if I wanted to get something to eat. I told her I did.

It was an odd moment. She had broken up with me a few days ago and now here she was wanting to hang out with me. I didn’t mind. I eventually had a friendship with my ex before her and remain friends to this day. (See: Michelle – 2007 – Present – A Brand New Day)

It was a nice day in Spring so we walked up to DiBruno Brothers on 18th and Chestnut Streets. It’s a really nice food market and eatery. We both got some sort of salads and went upstairs to the dining room. There weren’t many people up there. Maybe just two other couples. I don’t remember what we talked about, but it was probably whatever shoot she was going on or what play she was working on.

When we were finished eating, she moved to the chair closest to me at the table. She started to kiss up on me. It was really nice. Normally we never did public displays of affection. But it was sexy and hot. It’s weird. Something’s not right about that.

But it felt good, and a day later we were eating at an Indian restaurant near my hospital and then went back to my apartment and made love. The sex was good like always and I actually said to her: “If this is what you breaking up with me feels like, you should break up with me every week!”

Be careful what you wish for. We’ve all heard that old adage. But I liked the new Annabelle. It was all the stuff I liked about her. Food, sex and spending a little time with a pretty young woman. But at that time back in the Spring of 2014, I didn’t know that I didn’t love Annabelle. I didn’t even like her. I just was in love with the idea of being in love with her. I had no idea what was happening to me at the time. Now I had the drug almost on my terms. I wouldn’t have to “put my time in at her shitty apartment”, or put up with the grinding frustration and disappointment of being in a relationship with her. All the responsibility was gone.

But if you go into a new love, (It had been 2 years since Michelle) you must go into that new relationship for the right reason. That’s why I always warn people not to “have sex on the 3rd date” and ask themselves, do they really have much in common with their partner. Like the same things, activities, shared some of the same friends, work and religious values can also come into play.

But your old pal Phicklephilly, plowed right into this relationship with this woman  25 years his junior, not thinking any of this through. All I wanted was to be romantic with a young woman and feel the rush of new love. I didn’t realize it but I had gotten hooked on a drug I had nothing in common with. The only thing Annabelle and I had was a common attraction to each other. She’d never been in love before and didn’t know how to love or what to do with her feelings. Me, I meet a friendly, tall, young blond bartender and I’m ready to go head over heels.

What a fool I was.

A week or so later, I met her at a bus station near 30th Street just to give her moral support for trip to New York to buy some lenses for camera she owned. I just wanted to make her feel calm before her trip, and it worked. You might think why wouldn’t you go with her, and spend the day?

Here’s the thing, if we could have just hooked up sexually and I didn’t have to do any grinding boring stuff I had zero interest in, the relationship could have worked. So there’s no way I wanted to go anywhere with her.

On another occasion, I met her at 30th Street Station for a quick-lunch, and I put her on a train to somewhere for a shoot. I remember her saying, “Let’s have sex tonight!”

I was fine with that at the time. We had dinner that night. It was like being back at the beginning when things were good. Then back to my apartment for passionate fun.

Here’s the problem with that. I was getting exactly what I wanted from her. I was getting the thing I liked about our relationship so for me it was perfect. I didn’t have to see her all the time and I was still being delivered the euphoric dopamine that I so craved. I had no idea how damaging this is to one’s psyche.

Then it started to become less and less. That’s when the withdrawal kicks in. I went from someone who was relieved when she ended it, and now I was really missing her. I was losing her for real now. But it wasn’t her I was losing, I just wasn’t getting my “fix” anymore. Normally I’m not like that, and I vow to never let that happen again. But I never realized the relationship was sick from the start and doomed from day one.

A month went by, and I was on that tour boat on the Delaware river with my colleague when she texted me that she wanted to meet up for dinner. I really wanted to see her, but had to do that, “don’t get right back to her” move. But when I did she got right back to me and we set it up. She wanted to go to dinner and then stop and Chris’ Jazz club after. I was down for that. Of course I wanted to see her.

We planned to meet over at Pennsylvania 6, which was a French and Southern fusion type place. I knew she’d like it.

I was actually sipping a Ketel One vodka martini straight up with a twist as I waited for her at the bar. My hands were shaking I was so nervous. Yes, this was happening to the experienced old lion. She came in and noticed it. I don’t know what I said to cover.

We had a lovely dinner and were very sweet to one another. When the meal was over, I asked her if she was still down for Chris’ Jazz. She stated that she was tired from the wine and could we just go back to my place and relax on the couch and chill in the AC. I was fine with that because I didn’t feel like hanging out at the Chris’ Jazz anyway.

We went straight to my bedroom and had sex, and she spent the night.

The dopamine drops again. We took a selfie in bed together the next morning. We went to breakfast and then I put her in a cab and off she went. She asked that I send her the selfies from earlier and I did. (It was just our two faces on the pillow. Nothing racy)

A few weeks went by.

Her Uncle came to visit one week and they were at Chris’ Jazz and I was at some food and booze festival half in the bag and she texted that she was missing me. I jumped in an UBER and hung out with them for a bit, then he left and I went back to her place. The usual acts ensued. I was so drunk that night, if she had asked me to come rob a bank with her I would have gone.

This sort of nonsense went on through the summer. But the in between times were the worst. Because she stopped planning things with me that led to sex, it was just random, drunken hook ups. The relationship was slowly being picked apart. It was like I’d get a little better hang with another chick, and then Annabelle could just swoop in whenever the mood struck her and she’d rip open the sutures of my healing love junkie heart.

All of my friends were telling me it was wrong and that I should cut her off. But I just couldn’t get off the smack.

One time I ended up drunk with her in Northern Liberties and we ended up taking a selfie of just our shadows on the ground. Ironic now how that was really all that was left of us. We both just fell into her bed and went to sleep.

The next morning I wanted to get frisky with her and when I tried to she said, “I can’t. I’ve been with someone, and I found out they were having sex with someone else. So if I have something I don’t want to give it to you.”

Well that was nice of her, but I still wish I could have had sex with her that morning as hungover as I was. I love morning sex. It just makes the rest of your day better. But you can see how reckless her life decisions are.

So I was a safe rebound after whoever she had been seeing cheated on her. I left and did the long walk of shame back to Rittenhouse.

We did meet for a really nice seafood dinner out at Doc MacGrogan’s in University City that September. I took a bus down to Old City, and then called an UBER and went to her apartment in Northern Libs. Picked her up and then had the UBER take us to the restaurant. She was once again exposed to what it’s like to be treated like a lady by a gentleman.

The dinner was nice and they were my client at the time, so I got the hookup. During dinner we talked about us. She said she missed me. I asked her if she wanted to try again. She said that she did but wanted to go slowly. I would have been okay with that with how turned around in my head I was at the time. But after I wrote it all down in these 15 chapters did I realize how wrong all of this behavior was. Adults don’t do that to each other.

I thought after dinner it would be back to the batcave for some frolicking and frivolity. I didn’t even get to ask if she wanted to come over. She feigned a headache and I got dropped off at my apartment and she went on home. She always pulled the “fake headache” move whenever she decided she didn’t want to do something. Lame, juvenile behavior.

After that she simply “ghosted” me. For those of you reading this that don’t know what that means, it’s when someone in your life simply vanishes. They don’t call or text. It all suddenly stops. Nothing. Just gone. This went on for months. I wasn’t going to contact her. She did this. I needed to heal. Adults speak to one another and close the relationship. It’s wrong to put a person on a shelf like they are just some sort of toy, and then think you can take them down and play with them whenever you’re confused or lonely. It’s just shitty behavior. The person you’re doing that to is a human being with feelings.  You’re a rotten person if you think that sort of behavior is okay.

It was a lonely, vacuous, depressing time for me, heading into winter. The darkness of depression closed around me like a black cloak.

Months passed, and I was at a toy drive to help kids in the hospital during the holidays. Me and my buddy Church do it every year for Children’s Hospital.

I get a text from Annabelle out of the blue. It sent a shock wave of anxiety searing throughout my mind and body.

After months of silence, I get this text:

“Hey! I’m in New Orleans and I’ve been thinking about you everyday. I even had a dream about you!”

Searing pain and fear. I’m trying to move on with my life.

“I’m working a Toy Drive for the holidays. Can I call you when I get home?”

“Sure!”

I proceeded to try to numb the pain of this reopening of the wound by plowing Cutty Sark Prohibition based cocktails down my gullet. Church calls it “The Babymaker” because it’s 100 proof and makes you do crazy shit.

Maybe it was just the fuel I needed that cold winter’s eve.

Later when I got home, I called her I chatted as nicely as I could and then told her that I couldn’t keep doing this. I couldn’t live like this.

“So we’re not dating anymore?”

“No, Annabelle. We’re done. We’re done. I can’t keep talking about this. It’s all too painful to go on.”

I wrapped up the conversation quietly, and hung up. Then I proceeded to unfriend and block her on my Facebook, Instagram and finally block this selfish person in my phone.

That was the end of it.

 

 

 

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Tales of Rock – Neil Young Needs Special Effect to Hide Coke in his Nostril

With his wide-eyed, shaky demeanor, Neil Young just has the look about him of a guy on drugs. The thing is that’s probably more the effect of his lifelong struggles with epilepsy than anything else.

With his wide-eyed, shaky demeanor, Neil Young just has the look about him of a guy on drugs. The thing is that’s probably more the effect of his lifelong struggles with epilepsy than anything else. He’s definitely done his share; last year, the story broke that he’d finally quit smoking pot and drinking—at 66-years-old—to write his memoir.

And he’s created some great music ruminating on the ill effects of addiction; his 1971 song “The Needle and the Damage Done” is one of the most poignant ever written about heroin, and his 1975 album Tonight’s The Night eulogized his roadie Bruce Berry and guitarist Danny Whitten, both of whom died of heroin overdoses in 1973.

Despite all this, Young has generally avoided a reputation for doing heavy drugs himself. However, there have been some close calls. When he appeared in the Band’s concert film The Last Waltz in 1976, Young was apparently snorting cocaine backstage directly before his performance. In Band drummer Levon Helm’s autobiography, he wrote, “Neil Young had delivered a good version of ‘Helpless,’ but performed with a good-size rock of cocaine stuck in his nostril. Neil’s manager saw this and said no way is Neil gonna be in the film like this. They had to go to special effects people, who developed what they called a ‘travelling booger matte’ that sanitized Neil’s nostril and put ‘Helpless’ into the movie.” As a result, that crumb of cocaine is surely one of the most expensive ever snorted.

 

 

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Tales of Rock – Zakk Wylde Accidentally Survived A Fatal Disease By Drinking All Of The Time

“Because you are shitfaced, all of the time.”

As a guitarist for Ozzy Osbourne, Zakk Wylde isn’t a stranger to the world of wild partying, it’s fair to say. His last name is literally the word “wild” as spelled by a drunk person. We wouldn’t be surprised to hear that this is the only reason he got into rock music.

However, after a monthlong bout of extreme illness finally forced him to see a doctor, Wylde discovered that he was suffering from a rare blood condition that caused his body to overproduce blood clots, which are things that can suddenly kill you at any moment without warning. Furthermore, he’d been suffering from the condition for several years. Wylde sagely asked how the hell he had managed to stay alive for so long with such a deadly affliction, to which the doctor responded, “Because you are shitfaced, all of the time.”

You see, the treatment for Wylde’s condition involves a course of strong blood thinners, which slow down the rate at which blood clots develop. You know what else thins the blood? Alcohol. Zakk Wylde’s years of being heroically wasted saved his life, although nowadays he’s banned from booze and restricted to taking standard medicine, which we feel is a little unfair to the booze.

 

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

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