Tales of Rock – Nikki Sixx Had A Lethal Overdose

“Motley Crue: the band responsible for literally every stereotype about hair metal that you know.”

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Judging by the above, the most dangerous profession in the 1980s — aside from pulling double shifts at Chernobyl — was being a rock star. After all, there’s Guns N’ Roses, Van Halen, Aerosmith, and, last but not least, Motley Crue: the band responsible for literally every stereotype about hair metal that you know.

In 1987, while touring with Guns N’ Roses, Motley Crue bassist Nikki Sixx teamed up with Slash to unwind by shooting some heroin, presumably because Game Gear hadn’t been invented yet. Unfortunately, because opiate fans aren’t renowned for their measuring skills, Nikki ended up overdosing and dying in Slash’s shower. All things considered, this is the closest thing to a hero’s death that Nikki Sixx could hope for.

Except, as the world would come to learn, Nikki Sixx cannot be destroyed by heroin. He was revived after two minutes of clinical death by two shots of adrenaline stabbed directly into his fucking heart. Ordinarily, this would be followed by a long period of bed rest and some self-reflection. For Nikki Sixx, this meant escaping his ambulance, hitchhiking back home, and shooting up more heroin. The incident resulted in Motley Crue’s Grammy-nominated song “Kickstart My Heart” so … win-win, we guess?

 

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Crazy Dating Stories: Lenore – 2012 – Nowhere To Go But Up

“She had started to pound $10 cocktails like she was going off to war.”

I was coming off my break up with Michelle, (See: Michelle – 2007 to Present – A Brand New Day) We remained friends, but I figured I should get back out there. I had little knowledge on how online dating worked. I met a cute enough girl online (OK Cupid) – looks a little wild, perfect for where I am in my life, and we decide to meet.
I go all out for this first date. We’re going to my favorite “upscale” taco place and a movie after that I was excited to see. She called me about 10 minutes late and she’s pissed. She couldn’t find parking and now she couldn’t find the place. I excuse myself from the table, step outside, and try to look for her. I don’t see this girl anywhere, but I suddenly hear my name being called. I look over, and the girl who I thought was a slinky girl with pink hair looked almost nothing like her photos.
When we sit down inside the restaurant, she tells me the story. She’s gained about 45lbs…since the baby (which she also neglected to tell me about) and had recently dyed her hair moss-green, mostly by accident. I honestly wasn’t even sure that she was the same person, but she told me she was in beauty school and mixed something up. I don’t remember the exact details, because I stopped being able to pay attention to her story. Why? Because she had started to pound $10 cocktails like she was going off to war.

Uh oh, bad sign.
She ended up ordering the most expensive thing on the menu, drinking $50 in about 5 minutes, and started to get whiny and cranky. What would a normal guy have done? Maybe split the tab and call it a night. Me? Nope. I keep thinking, “Maybe she’s just nervous. Obviously, she’s been through a lot and is a bit of a mess.”
So, the idiot that I am, I take her to the movie. The movie has assigned seating, which lands us in the back of this theater. When we go to sit down, her drunk ass falls over, much to the chagrin of a father and his pre-teen daughter who are sitting in the seats next to us. This girl is in and out of consciousness most of the movie. It was a great movie, but when she was conscious, she complained throughout it – loudly and childishly.

The worst part of the movie, though, is when she got horny and decided to start trying to give me a hand job in the movie theater. Normally, this would be a kind of sexy proposition, but not when you’re sitting right next to a pretty buff-looking, angry father and his young daughter. I had to pull her hand away maybe 5 times as this guy shot me looks of “I’m about to fucking kill you” before I finally took her out of the theater. I felt so bad that I bought the dad/daughter a gift card for the theater and wrote a quick apology before walking miss #greenhairdontcare outside.
It only gets worse from here, sadly. She ends up having a fucking meltdown on one of benches outside the theater. She’s crying and talking about killing herself for about 20 minutes. She’s calling herself fat and ugly, saying that I’m a pig and an asshole for taking her out, and asks me if I’ll fuck her in her car loudly and repeatedly (she asks loudly and repeatedly, not for loud, repetitive sex). I’m getting glares and the cops come over twice to make sure I’m not hurting her.
At some point, I just gave up. I called a cab, which she refused to get in. She hopped in her car, drunk as hell, and sped off. I ended up spending over $200 for this night. By the end of this thing, I was ready to swear off dating entirely, especially after the next 3 days of her texting me depressing shit and pics of her lady parts out of nowhere. But, in the end, I had nowhere to go but up. Dating got a lot better after that.

Sort of.

 

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Crazy Dating Stories: 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.”

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?

 

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Keila – 2013 to 2017 – Fleas, Ticks and a Series of Bad Decisions

I told Alice not to hire Keila. I just didn’t feel that she had the discipline, experience, skill set and focus to do the job at Alice’s recruiting firm.

I’ve decided to stop writing about Alice and Keila. Alice is a dear friend, but we don’t do anything interesting enough to write about. Hopefully, this will be the last time I write about Keila.

I told Alice not to hire Keila. I just didn’t feel that she had the discipline, experience, skill set and focus to do the job at Alice’s recruiting firm. She lasted about two years there. Alice felt that she would be a good match, because she was a fearless networker and had no problem meeting new people.

But Keila has severe ADD. It’s really annoying to the rest of us who can calmly focus.

I’ve decided to cut her off, because of what she’s done to Alice. My loyalty is to Alice, and I don’t even really see Keila anymore.

Then I realized something. Some of the worst women I have ever met in this city all came through Keila. Birds of a feather flock together. Keila is like this big poodle that’s crawling with fleas and ticks. Because that’s what some these people are. Here’s the list:

Carol (See: Carol – 2014 to 2016 – There’s No Fun in Dysfunction) Crazy wacko who lives with her crazy mother and can’t keep a man or a job. Mess!

Harper (See: Harper – 2014 to 2015 – Plane Crash) Just a straight up lying, fraud and a whore who uses people. Awful!

Bibi (See: Bibi – 2015 – Matinee Madness) Rude, alcoholic loser who can’t keep a job or stay out of rehab.

Brooke (See: Brooke – 2015 to Present – Legs for Days) Okay this one came through Keila but I like her. She doesn’t see Keila anymore.

And many more whack job people along the way.

I’ve cut off all of these people (Except Brooke) and what I’ve needed to do all along was to cut off the head of this two legged dragon. So that’s what I’ve done. I’m done with Keila. She has these networking events and all of these desperate women and nutjobs go to thesee events. She always introduces them as “her new frends” but they’re not her friends. They’re normally desperate souls that attach themselves to her temporarily but after she gets what she wants from them she’s on to the next shiny object that’s her current distraction.

So after what Keila pulled on my friend Alice, I’m done with this one.

There’s some other people I need to slowly faze out as well. There not as godawful as Harper and Carol, but it’s time to start thinning the heard.

Live and learn baby. Step over the detritus in your life and move on.

Stay tuned!

 

 

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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.

 

 

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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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Kylie – Broken Wing – Part II – Disconnected Rebound

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

I was in a vulnerable state. Still having random drunk hookups with Annabelle, and hanging out with Kylie. (See: Annabelle – 2013 to 2014 – Nice to Meet You) It’s sad what was happening. I think Annabelle just strung me along until she found someone to replace me.

Live and learn.

On the other hand I was spending more time with Kylie. The more time I spent with her, the crazier and damaged I could see Kylie was.

She was in her early thirties now, and still barely eking out a living doing photography. This was a poor soul that had been kicked around by the world, and somehow survived. During that time I always said; “I don’t think Kylie is going to live long.”

She invited me up to her apartment one night early on. We talked about her artwork. She painted as well as did photography. All of her work is really good, but it’s just hard to make a living in this city as an artist. (Or any city for that matter)

She’s one of these people who talks a lot. They tell you all the crazy stuff in their lives that you’d be better off not knowing. I know people like her, and too much information given to people makes them realize you really don’t have much going on in your life now, and have made some bad decisions.

She tells me she was in this really destructive relationship with this older man. He was some really smart professor type that was a narcissist sicko. He totally controlled her and would make her strip naked everyday and he would weigh her to make sure she stayed the same. Insane.

I think one day they were drunk together and he beat her up. She ended up going downstairs or next door and these guys took her in but then one of them raped her.

This is really heard to write.

For some reason she ends up not pressing charges, and they get away with it and she has to move away. The story is a little fuzzy because I have literally blocked it out until this writing.

She ends up seeking refuge with her married business partner, that older guy who owned the studio. She tells him what happened and he tells her she should be with a nice guy. A gentleman. Someone who knows how to treat a lady.

Then he ends up having sex with her. It was a total ruse because he had wanted to hit that for a long time. So she gets used again.

That guy recently died of cancer so there’s some karma out there.

Then she starts telling me about this guy she’s seeing. He’s like 20 years older than she is, and is a biker. I think he’s married or lives with a woman. He appears to be a pimp or something. Just a bad dude. She’s completely in love with this guy and he doesn’t give two shits about her. He just rolls over to her place late night and gives her the high hard one. He doesn’t do anything else with her.

I actually met him one night at a bar and she was there. I wanted to make it clear I was just a friend, and knew the score. He was actually really nice to me, but I was happy to get out of there.

I would meet up with her sometimes, and get coffee and walk around. She didn’t know what was going on with biker dude, because he was always letting her down or not even showing up. She was constantly talking about him, and it was almost as if Kylie and I were a little co-dependent at the time. I gave her the emotional support and empathy that biker dude, lacked, and she replaced the attractive, leggy ex-girlfriend for me.

With biker fading and my ex popping in and out at random times, Kylie and I spent some time together. I had fun with her sometimes. One night we were at some music event and she was hitting the gin pretty hard and me the vodka. We were having a great time. I walked her home and we sat on her stoop to smoke a cig and chatted.

Then she invited me up.

I was surprised because I didn’t think she was that into me, but I guess whatever I had been to her she wanted to thank me.

But here’s where it gets weird. When we were beginning to get into it, she started talking in like a kid’s voice. It was very unsettling. I sopped and asked her if she wanted to go through with what we were about to do, and she said she did. She didn’t say much else but that behavior stayed with me.

The next morning it was like nothing had happened. But she was now comfortable sitting in her robe and chatting with me when she got out of the shower. I asked her how she felt about last night, and she said, “Yea it was great. I needed that.”

She ordered up some breakfast sandwiches and we happily munched them.

Later she wanted to take me out to the woods for a walk on some trails. She loves nature and is a runner, so she does this quite a bit. To me the Great Outdoors is where you keep the car. Roughing it, is a hotel without room service, and the wilderness is Walmart.

So I’m not going to like it out there. She has a Mini Cooper and she drives to endanger. I’m a good driver. I obey the posted limits, know how to drive defensively, and understand how to merge and the rules of the road.

Kylie just speeds and takes the turns at high-speed. I’m not a good rider, so I was terrified.

I nearly got down and kissed the dirt when we pulled into the lot at the park in one piece.

The area is nice and there’s a creek. There were people on horseback, couples and families. So it was a nice day.

But here’s the thing. She’s dressed to be there. She’s also accustomed to the terrain and the hills and trails. I’m not. I’m also not accustomed to trudging up and down hills through the woods in a blazer and semi dress shoes. So for the most part the entire beginning of this little trip is awful. She shouldn’t have taken me out here, but she likes it and I guess likes me well enough to sleep with me so I put up with it all.

We had sex a few more times after that, and it was usually when we were both half in the bag. I’m so gun-shy from my divorce from my ex-wife, I always use a condom. Always. I also always take it with me. I am too paranoid to leave a tied off prophylactic in some chick’s trash can. I’m like the Marines when it comes to my sperm. No man left behind. I take it with me and discard it elsewhere.

And while we’re on the subject, if you’re not wearing a condom and you’re getting close there is a primal urge to stay in. Homo sapiens have an imperative to reproduce. In that moment you need to summon up the evolved part of your brain and say the words: Pregnant. Child Support. Lawyers. Wage garnishment.

Anyway, I had some fun times with Kylie. But it just wasn’t a match. She’s kind of crazy. We’ve had a few skirmishes, and she’d cut me off over some stupid misunderstanding, but she would always drift back. I give people a lot of chances. But not so much anymore. Kylie has definitely burned all her bridges with me.

I run into her every once in a while and it’s civil, but always a bit awkward. So I’ll end it here.

“You always want to be the good key that can open many locks, not the shitty lock that can be opened my many keys.” 

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday at 9am EST.

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