WHAT A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN WANTS: HALEY KALIL

“They say nice guys never win, but I strongly disagree. Nothing is more attractive than a humble, kindhearted man with an amazing sense of humor.”

Anyone who has already perused the 2019 Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue will no doubt recognize Haley Kalil.

The smoldering SI Swim rookie and wife of Houston Texans offensive tackle Matt Kalil is one of 16 breakout stars who grace the latest bikini annual.

But before Kalil was shot by top photographer Yu Tsai, the small-town stunner from Minnesota excelled in the academics, having graduated summa cum laude from St. Cloud State University with a double degree in medical biology and psychology long before SI came calling.

“I studied biomedical sciences and psychology in college. I worked in the hospital and an immunology lab until Sports Illustrated Swimsuit held an open casting call on Instagram,” she tells Maxim.

“I submitted a video, and bam! My life was changed forever! I went from doing single cell suspensions in no makeup and a lab coat to shooting on the beaches of Africa for the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue.”

The future couldn’t be brighter for this brainy beauty. Read on to learn about Kalil’s celeb crushes, dream date, pervasive love of Taco Bell and more.

How can a man catch your attention?

A funny guy wins the girl every time. They say nice guys never win, but I strongly disagree. Nothing is more attractive than a humble, kindhearted man with an amazing sense of humor.

What’s the worst pick-up line you’ve ever heard?

“Do you do karate? Because your body is KICKING.” I hate to say it, but I laughed.

How do you let a man know you’re interested?

If a woman is interested, you will know. She will want to spend time with you. She will want to text you back. She will want to tell you about her life. If she’s not taking the time to do those things…sorry man, she’s just not that into you.

Tell us about your ideal date.

I don’t like anything too fancy. I love just walking around NYC on a beautiful summer night talking about anything and everything. Maybe stopping at a little diner to eat French toast at 1 a.m. Throw in an epic escape room and I’m sold!

What about a man turns you on the most?

I think intelligence is sexy. Nothing is sexier than a man that can code an entire software update or solve a nearly impossible synthesis problem in organic chemistry.

When do you feel sexiest?

I feel the sexiest when I’m surrounded by the people I love. Whether that’s while I’m in a tight dress with some killer makeup or in my sweatpants stuffing Thai food into my face. I gain confidence from being surrounded the people who care about me…and confidence makes me feel sexy.

Who’s your biggest celebrity crush?

My male crush would be Ryan Reynolds. I mean, have you seen Deadpool? ‘Nuff said! The dude is funny as can be! And my female crush would be Angelina Jolie. She’s gorgeous, accomplished, and a total boss.

What’s on your favorite music playlist?

I’m such a stereotype, I listen to the “new releases” on iTunes music. Don’t judge me though…they’ve got some JAMS on there.

Do you have a favorite athlete or sports team?

Matt Kalil. He’s a beast. Best NFL player there is. Quite a babe, too!

What fashion brands do you like the best?

I don’t like spending tons of money on clothing because I’d much rather spend it on my HBO subscription and Postmates. So Forever 21 is my go-to for less expensive clothing that’s cute and fits well!

What’s your favorite meal?

Taco Bell. A chicken and cheese quesadilla with extra jalapeño sauce, two Chipotle Chicken Grillers, a soft-shell beef taco, cinnamon twists, and a large Sierra Mist. It’s heaven on earth.

What’s your favorite thing to do in the bedroom?

Sleep.

And what should a man never do in the bedroom?

There’s a lot of things you shouldn’t do in the bedroom. Don’t try to fry a chicken with a flame thrower. Don’t fill your bed with 800 ping pong balls. I mean, the list goes on and on…

Ha, we see what you did there. Have any sexy fantasies?

Eating Taco Bell in my pajamas while watching reruns of South Park. That’s about the sexiest thing I can think of.

Lastly, what’s your guiltiest pleasure?

Ordering hundreds of dollars of Postmates from a restaurant that literally right down the street because I don’t want to get out of bed.

For more, follow Haley on Instagram.

 

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

Facebook: phicklephilly       Instagram: @phicklephilly       Twitter: @phicklephilly

Duncan – Saturday – Part 2

“There is a peacefulness in middle age. I love that we’ve both finally arrived there together.”

Duncan is chill and he’s just happy to be in Philly. He swings by the salon and has resigned himself to the fact that I need to work a million hours at the salon to get our business going.

He knows that It’s down to me and Achilles to keep the business going. Instead of crying that we can’t spend the day stalking comic book stores and strip joints he comes to the gym and works out.

I love this.

My schedule is stuck and I have to do what I have to do for the business. It’s just the world I live in now and we all get it. (It won’t always be like this.)

In the old days Duncan would come up and we would spend a whole week living in the same house. I would drink, he’d smoke pot, we’d watch movies and listen to music.  We’d watch some crazy videos on TV and barbecue, but those days are long gone.

We’re so much older now. Duncan doesn’t crash on my couch anymore. My daughter Lorelei lives with me. Duncan stays at 5 star hotels now. He’s successful. We’re middle-aged. No more crazy times. We still enjoy laughing our asses off at our own jokes and finding things to get into in the city.

But it’s different now. There’s no AC/DC concert today. (Those guys are too old and banged up to play anymore!) Just us. I have to run my business. He’s on the phone with his team at Well Fargo.

But they can’t take our core from us. When he finishes working out in my gym on Walnut Street, we’re going to go drink at City Tap House and get the hookup from my man Zach.

As we get older I see that Duncan has become so much more patient and less impetuous from our younger years. He’s putting up with the fact that I have a different lifestyle now. A salon and fitness center needs attention beyond the 9 to 5 we were so accustomed to.

We do get some special guests that show up unexpectedly

There was this delicious slender Kuwaiti girl who started tanning here last season that suddenly shows up with her friends late in the day. We know these babies come from rich families because there is no other way they could be here in Philly right now.

“Hey do you remember me?”

Shahed?

“Well done! Is it Charles?”

“Well done!”

I have brought my friends with me!”

(They’re all smoking hot)

Related image

I’m stupid happy to see Shahed again and her hot friend Baba and send them both to tan. There is another girl there named Malak that blows them both aways and is Kardashian Hot. Raven hair, milky skin, lips, tits, and body all amazing.

Duncan is a good-looking and fit man but clueless when it comes to the fairer sex, so I lead in with just some general questions.

I don’t want the non tanner to feel threatened or isolated from her friends.

We have a great conversation. I light it like always. She’s a finance major and Duncan is  CFA god, so she’s fascinated. If these guys could just turn their work gifts into picking up girls gifts they’d be fine but they can’t join the two, Sales and power is the same thing. They just don’t connect and can’t see that sales and dating are the same things.

I help him and I can see he;s actually doing well with this Persian cutie.

I love Duncan. My goal has always been same since the 90’s is. If he’s going to make the trip here, give him everything you can. I’ve always trued to do that every time.

I’ll never forget the moment when the girls were done tanning and they all just perched around Duncan like pretty birds and chatted with us. We discussed different restaurants.

They spoke of a really good restaurant in University City that served food that was similar from where they came from.

I joked that we had no idea where it was so they should take us there. surprisingly they seemed cool with that. (Only I could close that)

They are all gorgeous middle eastern babies and I loved the time we spent with them but in the salon. But like my own life, everything is fleeting.

We may never see them again. But surprisingly the Kardashian did inquire about personal training. So that could be a miracle in 2019.

All of these girls are super smart and will take all of their gifts back to Kuwait, But I do have a plan to take one of these girls out to gelato at Gran Caffee L’ Aliquila.

I know. I want to do it. I really want Shahad, but I’d settle on the tall one who keeps looking at me.

I don’t care.

I’ll figure it out like I always do.

The birds giggle away and bound down the steps. I plot my next move. I don’t share this with Duncan, but I’ll eventually tell him how I deflowered at least one of these sweet girls.

I wrap it up at the salon, and Duncan has stretched himself and worked his body out hard enough that he’s ready to be in the next Mission Impossible movie. I think Duncan has really enjoyed the presence of these fresh Kuwaiti babes.

Smart and beautiful. I know Duncan and I find them both intoxicating. But the presence of these girls is what it is and we must let go.

We lock the salon and make our way to City Tap House. My man Zack is behind the stick and I know my Manhattans are FREE.

We hit this big sports bar and Duncan follows my lead. We luck out and land a pair of seats at this enormous sports bar. Tons of tables and a bar that goes on forever

I spot Zack and he’s running. We are here on the day before the Superbowl . It’s a celabratory mess. But my boy Zack is running. I don’t even think he see’s me/my friend. Duncan is happy we got some seats.

Suddenly a Manhattan neat lands in front of me with a brandied cherry at her core. I want to take her so bad. Hot bartender Nicole grabs Duncan and they settle on a draft.

I’m so happy to be with my friend. He gets his beer and asks the server for a plate of carrots and celery. I don’t get it. A side of wings would have worked for me. But for the last 20 years, what ever my friend wants. Normally all he wants is my six-gun ribs, but I never make that anymore.

We hang at the bar. Zach is God. (And when I say God… I mean Free Bulliett Rye Manhattans with a brandied berry)

I chat with lovely Devon and she tells us that most events are ticketed so we’re fucked for the Superbowl. (But we’ll figure it out)

Our bar bill is zero.

We’re happy. But Duncan needs comfort food so we go to Marathon at 16th and Sansom.

He destroys a salad and helps me with an order of mac n cheese that is a $10 dish. Clearly my boy doesn’t eat enough.

My boy Brandon (Beverage Manager for all three locations) stops by the table and says hello. So that one Manhattan’s is free. I get my favorite barbeque chicken sandwich and we’re good. I tell them my Marathon Reward Card doesn’t work and they give me another one. (That one failed too, but we’ll figure it out) I don’t give a shit as long as my friend is happy… I’m happy.

My friend Francesca stops by the table. (See: Francesca – 2014 to Present – Monday Feels Like Friday) She and some other of her co-workers got laid off at her job, so I hooked her up with a job here at Marathon. She used to waitress down the shore in college so she’s already a seasoned pro here. I tell her we’re going back to the Hotel Palomar to hang at Square 1682 after dinner. She says if she gets cut early she’ll swing by for a drink.

Duncan and I have evolved in our friendship. We used to get plowed and hit South street. Now we go to better eateries and bars and sip fine liquor and eat better food. Just a couple of middle-aged men that don’t like a too much noise or drama.

From Tattooed Moms to the Ritz Carlton. Duncan points this out to me. I like it.

There is a peacefulness in middle age. I love that we’ve both finally arrived there together.

I don’t see Duncan for long periods of time but I fucking love this guy. I hope I know him until I die. He’s one of the best people I know.  Just a good man who I’m glad has chosen to keep me in his life.

Dinner is great and our waitress is a doll. We close with one more at Square 1682 at his hotel.

Tomorrow is the Superbowl and we have no plan. We have no tickets to anything, and I’m working until 4pm so we’re basically fucked.

I need to come up with a plan for me and my friend tomorrow. He’s come up here for his 50th birthday and the Eagles are in the Superbowl.

They’ve never won.

They’re playing against the 5 times winning New England Patriots. Apparently Tom Brady is the most hated man in sports since Derek Jeter.

I need to come up with something. I don’t want my friend to be disappointed tomorrow. Every bar in the city will be packed and insane. I don’t finish at the salon until 4pm.  Anybody that wants to watch the Super bowl should already have staked out there space at the bar somewhere.

Duncan has put up with me working through his birthday/Superbowl weekend already. I just feel like I’m failing him as a host and a friend. But I have to do what needs to be done and we’ll make it work just like we always do. But I still feel bad that I don’t have a plan for the Superbowl.

But there is something between us where when we’re pressed against a wall, we always prevail.

Tomorrow is Superbowl Sunday and we will make it work.

We always do and it’s glorious.

We’ve done it before and we’ll do it again. Just like we always do.

 

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

Instagram: @phicklephilly                             Facebook: phicklephilly

Celebrity Sightings: Ekatarina Lisina – It’s Pretty Obvious

By now you all know I’m a legman. Legs are my thing. I just love women’s legs. So it seemed fitting I write about this extraordinary lady!

The Russian model who officially has the longest legs in the world is set to break into Hollywood after she appeared on This Morning, where presenters Holly Willoughby and Phillip Schofield used ladders to interview her.

Ekaterina Lisina, 29, whose 52.4″ legs are recognized by the Guinness World Records 2018, revealed that her newfound fame from her stint on the TV show has seen her offered an exciting film role – and admits she is being inundated by male attention.

The model, who is 6ft 9in, is already known in her hometown of Penza, Russia, for having the biggest feet for a woman – a UK size 12.

A former professional basketball player with an Olympic bronze, she has an offer for an upcoming movie called Rugby Girls, she revealed.

‘The filming will take place in England. I will have a chance to be listed in the Guinness Book as the world tallest actress too,’ she said.

‘It will be screened in two years time at the world cup in Japan.

‘It is about women’s rugby championship in 1991, mainly behind the scenes stuff.

In the US team there were two tall sports girls and I will play one of them.

‘The film is being made by famous people but I can’t name them yet.

‘They chose me because I am fluent in English. I lived in Slovakia from the age of 12, then in Hungary. I speak Slovak and Czech, too, and my English does not have an accent.’

Ekaterina also claims she has a list of growing male admirers – ‘self-assured’ men who are not frightened off by her height.

‘I don’t have problems in my private life,’ she said, stressing that men do not need to be tall to catch her eye.

‘For a long time I’ve had many admirers and now their number is growing every minute.

‘Only self-assured men are capable of approaching me.

‘Those who are not just won’t do it.’

The mother-of-one’s height runs in the family and her six-year-old son is also a giant, weighing almost 11lbs at birth.

‘Not every girl is over two metres tall but I don’t have any personal problems about it,’ she said.

‘I like my height. It is unusual – and everything unusual attracts attention.

‘I like experimenting with my looks. Not long ago I coloured my hair, and now I plan to make lots of African plaits. I can easily go out without make up.

‘Like every girl, I have my own opinion about a good-looking man. I prefer dark-haired man with brown eyes. I don’t mind the man’s height at all. I just want to meet a good man.’

Discussing her style and how she dresses her lofty frame, she explained:  ‘I love mini-skirts and short dresses. (Well done!)

‘I like jackets but if I am going out I will put on a fur coat or just a long coat. I prefer white and black colours in my clothes.’

Her height does, however, have its downsides. The daughter of two basketball players revealed: ‘I have problems on planes, especially I am not given a seat next to emergency exit or in business class, I have to stretch my legs into the aisle and I make it difficult for stewardesses to serve passengers.

‘And it is hard to buy jeans, I have to order my clothes from a tailor.’

 

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

Instagram: @phicklephilly    Facebook: phicklephilly

Andrea – 2014 – S&M Girl

“Hi Lorelei. Daddy’s just going to take this fat, drunk bitch back to his room and tie her up. Then you’re going to hear a lot of slapping and squishing sounds. You’re also going to hear Daddy say a bunch of really foul sexually degrading things to this woman, so you better put your ear buds in and crank that shit up.”

One night a couple of years ago, I was out with a friend of mine. We were having drinks outside at Misconduct at 15th & Locust. He was telling me a story about this girl he met on Tinder. Pure hookup. She comes over to his apartment. Sadly, she doesn’t look like her Tinder pics. Which is not good. That’s like seeing a photo of a car you want to buy in the Auto Trader and when you get to the lot to check out the car, it’s an older model and a little banged up and maybe even a bit more car than you saw in the photos.

But he was drunk and up for the foul deed. He said she was a thick girl but he went to town on her anyway. Like my tinder profile says: “If you don’t look like your photos, you’re going to buy me drinks until you do.” So he said it was good sex except for one thing. He didn’t like that she wanted him to spit on her and hit her. There’s nothing wrong with what two consenting adults do with each other behind closed doors. Especially if everyone’s on board with what’s happening. But he didn’t like it. Just not his thing.

He told me that he wasn’t comfortable with that situation. He said at that point no matter what he was into or what he would do, he couldn’t do that again.  It just wasn’t him. (He didn’t spit on her or hit her at all) At that time, back in the beginning of 2014, I had just come off a break up and told him to send Andrea pics of me. Because I was up for whatever she wanted dished out. The key here is when it comes to dominance, be firm…not mean. There’s a big difference. I would discipline and correct her if necessary. And remember, the submissive party is ALWAYS in control. They have the safe word and hold the power to cancel the fantasy at anytime. That’s the rules of S&M play.

Well, nothing came of it. Until earlier this year when she connected to me on LinkedIn. LinkedIn of all places! Can you imagine with all of the dating websites out there, LinkedIn brings me the crazy S&M chick? So we chatted and did some texting. She wanted me to text her all of the things I was going to do to her, so I did. I have a pretty good imagination. She said she was getting really turned on and that we should meet.

I set it up that we should meet at the Ranstead Room. It’s just a good spot normally to hideout with somebody. I get there and I’m just chilling with a drink. She arrives shortly thereafter. My friend was right about her. In her Tinder pics she looks really hot, but in real life she is a lot bigger, and what was with that low tranny voice? Not good. I just wasn’t feeling it. I would have to drink a LOT of cocktails for Andrea to start to resemble her profile pics on Tinder. So I figured what the hell, I was already here and the drinks were flowing. She wasn’t that hot but at least I was someplace where nobody knew me.

Then the manager from the restaurant where my daughter works suddenly comes through the door and walks right up to me and says hello using my name.

Now I’m made. He can see who I’m with and now everybody there knows my name.

Andrea starts telling me about her life. She hates her job and wants to leave Philly. (Probably a good idea for us all.) She was seeing some crazy drug dealer loser guy. He’s suicidal, and does tons of coke. It’s bad, and she’s not much better.  I always thought if you did a bunch of cocaine you were skinny. Certainly not the case here.

After awhile we’re getting pretty tipsy. We went outside for a cigarette. She was on me like a northern pike hitting the bait. So I’m making out with her and people are walking by on Ranstead and she just pulls her boobs out. She’s losing her shit. She wants to take me back behind the building and give me a blowjob.

Yea. Great. I’ll just go stand behind my daughter’s manager’s Mercedes-Benz and you can give me oral. What if he walks outside and sees that shit? That’s not going to be good for me or anybody. Now, if this was Los Angeles and it was 1982, yea I’d be down for that, but not now. That’s gross. Sure, I’m flattered that she’s turned on enough from my words and the alcohol to want to blow me in a filthy alley, but no. Just no. I don’t roll like that.

She’s drunk. We go back inside and we’re in the vestibule and all sorts of things are happening with lips and fingers. If somebody comes through either door, we’re going to jail. So after that brief encounter, we go back inside. I kind of want to go home. In the right environment, some S&M play could be fun with her, but I’m just not getting a good vibe from her in this moment. She’s calling me daddy and all that shit. She says she loves older men, etc. I tell her I have an early sales meeting in the morning that I have to travel to so we should wrap it up. (A bold-faced lie)

She wants to go back to my place and have sex. Great idea. I can see it now. Me walking through the door to my apartment with Andrea and my daughter sitting on the sofa.

“Hi Lorelei. Daddy’s just going to take this fat, drunk bitch back to his room and tie her up. Then you’re going to hear a lot of slapping and squishing sounds. You’re also going to hear Daddy say a bunch of really foul sexually degrading things to this woman, so you better put your ear buds in and crank that shit up.”

No. Not happening. We pay the bill, and we walk over to 18th Street. I hail her a taxi and send her on her way. I was actually relieved when she was gone.

If somebody I met and was in a relationship wanted to experiment with some things, I’d be down with that, but Andrea just isn’t that person.

Update! She appeared at the salon tonight for a tan before she goes to L.A!

She’s leaving Philly for good!

 

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

Instagram: @phicklephilly    Facebook: phicklephilly

Phicklephilly – Night of the Huntress – 2017

The lady is sitting at her table sipping her drink, and giving me and Church the eye. Church pegs her for an “entrepreneur.” That’s what he calls escorts and hookers.

I was having a good evening at the salon. All of the sunbeds were working, we even got the washer and dryer up and running. Some of my favorite ladies came in to tan and I could feel that things were starting to fall into place at the new address. Achilles even stopped in with Sharon, so he could do a few things and she could go tanning.

I had gotten a text from my friend Alice, (See: Alice – 2011 to Present – The Cute Recruiter) saying she wanted to meet up for a drink. I was already meeting with my buddy Church (See: Church – 2012 to Present – Brand Ambassador) so I told her to meet me at Sofitel after 8pm.

I close up the salon and head to Sofitel. When I get there she’s already at the bar having drinks with her friend Bob. I’ve met him before he’s a really nice guy. Works in IT, makes good money, but no game when it comes to the ladies. I find out Alice’s company, which will find you a job and a date completely hooked him up with some dates, and number three girl was the charm. It sounds like Bob sort of has a girlfriend now.

Things are going well at Alice’s company. if you’ve been reading this blog you’ll know that her friend Keila has left the company after a year or so to pursue other interests. Alice and Bob are hungry and ask if I am too. I’m not that hungry but she says she’s starving and putting it all on her corporate card. So I tell her I’m famished if she insists.

Church arrives and as promised and he makes delivery on another bottle he promised me. A bottle of the Macallan 17-year-old scotch. It’s a fantastic bottle, and 17 is my family’s reoccurring lucky number. They don’t even make this scotch anymore. It’s a $250 bottle of scotch. Did I mention that I love Church?

We’ve been coming to Sofitel more lately and Church is friends with the bartender, Liam and we’re getting the hook up on drinks. To explain what the “hook up” is, it’s when you have a bunch of cocktails and you get the bill and it’s $11. Then you just tip the bartender handsomely with cash. So instead of getting a bill that’s up to $40,  you only spend around $25 and the bartender gets a better tip. You can’t abuse it but you have to get to know them and become a regular, and you get the hook up all over town.

Alice and Bob have to get to another gig, so after devouring cheese steak tacos and fries and cocktails, she says they have to bolt. She pays for everything and off they go. That was awesome. Free round of drinks and dinner and now I can focus on my time with Church.

So this younger guy wearing a wool hat comes into the lounge and takes a seat at a table by himself. He appears to be waiting for someone. We assume a blind or Tinder date.

In a little while this attractive woman in her thirties glides into the room. She walks over to the gentleman sitting at the table. We assume that his date has arrived. But something just doesn’t feel right. Turns out that those two are not together, and after a brief exchange, she moves to a table adjacent to the bar. I’m on the end closest to her, and Church is to my left.

The lady is sitting at her table sipping her drink, and giving me and Church the eye. Church pegs her for an “entrepreneur.” That’s what he calls escorts and hookers. This chill black guy enters the bar and sort of just hangs back behind us. He obviously works there at the hotel. He’s definitely security. So we start joking with him about hooker patrol. We don’t look over at her while we’re doing this because we don’t want to make it obvious that we’re on to her.

Hat guy’s date shows up and joins him at his table. I look over. Not bad. Decent legs, curly black hair. After a drink or two, they pay their bill and leave. The entrepreneur, keeps smiling at me and making eyes. We’re still all talking about her at the bar, Liam and one of theservers have her pegged for a pro.

I’m ready to go out and have a smoke. We leave our coats on our chairs and the bag containing the $250 bottle of scotch. We’re just outside the building. Within a minute the lady comes running out to tell us we forgot our coats. I tell her we’re coming right back after I smoke. I thank her for her concern and she goes back in.

We head back in, and I’m chatting up the hot server Laura. We’re talking about scratch offs and she’s telling me how she’s trying to break up with the doctor she’s currently dating because she feels she should be dating someone her own age. She’s only 25 and this guy is into his 40’s.  She’s keeping her options open and he keeps buying her stuff, because that’s what guys with money do for younger hot women they like sleeping with.

The assumed hooker hasn’t paid her bill yet and Laura is getting nervous because she’s her guest. Laura thinks she’s going to run out on her bill, because now she’s moved to a table by the exit. But then the lady comes up to the bar to pay her tab. I’m sure at this point the only reason she did that is she thought one of us may strike up a conversation.

We’re all holding our breath to see if the card clears. It goes through okay, and as she’s leaving, she leans in to me, touches my arm and whispers, “I think you are very cute!”

We’re a little stunned, as she is walking out she turns and says that she’ll be back in a little bit. After she’s gone we all have a good laugh about the whole show that just unfolded before us.

A little while later, I’m well into my 3rd chardonnay, the entrepreneur returns. She starts giving me the eye again and I’m wondering where she’s been. I decide to go upstairs to the restroom and pray I’m not followed. Church texts me that she has attached herself to some Archie Andrews/Beeker  type from the Muppet Show guy at the bar. He’s eating this enormous club sandwich at the bar so he looks like an easy target to her.

Then this skater boy type comes walking up to me, singing a song about how he can’t find his waitress. He hands me his credit card. “You seem to have an honest face. I have to pay for my brother and my drink.” I’m surprised and sing back to him that I’ll make every effort to find his server.

Laura pops out from the back and I tell her what’s up, and the guy will be right back, he had to give his brother directions to the hotel. She looks surprised, but takes his card and runs it. The skater returns and she gives him his bill and off he goes.

We move down to the other end of the bar, and then this odd-looking older fellow comes in. He’s wearing what appears to be a red racing jacket with matching shoes and driving gloves.

Church says to me: “Welcome… to Fantasy Island.”

The guy orders some weird drink with some sort of Whiskey, B & B and some olives. I’ve never seen or heard of it before. We don’t talk to the guy. He just seems too weird and eccentric. It’s been a bizarre and fun night.

Or as Church and I call it, “Wednesday night.”

 

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

Instagram: @phicklephilly    Facebook: phicklephilly

 

Johnny R. – 2009 to Present – Needle in the Groove – Part 2

I remember in the past we used to call the Gold club “The Death Star.” Johnny and I would be out at happy hour and we’d be walking around trying to figure out where to go next. After a few rounds we could start to feel the pull of the club. It was like a tractor beam that would just start pulling our little drunken rebel alliance feet over towards 15th and Chancellor. If you know anything about Star Wars, that’s what the Death Star did to the Millennium Falcon.

After our hilarious experience at Locust Rendevous, we headed over to our favorite dive bar McGlinchey’s on 15th street. McGlinchey’s has cheap drinks and you can smoke in there. I’ve written about it before. (See: Johnny R. – 2009 to Present – Dive Bar Blues) It’s a den of scum and villainy. But we love the place. The surly staff, the crashing bottles as they are thrown into the trash, and the filthy bathrooms all add to it’s bygone era charm.

We get there and we look for a pair of seats. (Just writing about this place makes me want to have a cig right now) Normally when it’s cold there are a few empty seats near the door. We’re in luck and we’re not too close to the door. We walk up to the bar chairs, and they’re empty but there’s all these bags and clothes and one crutch lying on the bar rail. (Nothing surprises me at McGlinchey’s)

We ask the guys to our left if it’s their stuff and they say no. We ask the bartender if anybody is sitting here, and he says no. Then he turns to some old coger that’s sitting around the corner of the bar and tells him to move his stuff. Why the old guy dropped all his stuff over here and then went and sat over there, I’ll never know.

So he comes and hauls it over to his area and we sit down. We look over to our right and there’s an attractive brunette sitting by herself at the bar. That’s rare for a dump like this. She’s obviously doing what most people do nowadays. They have their faces in their phones. Of course some other old guy starts chatting her up. He seems harmless enough.

“You can see that girl is visibly uncomfortable.” says Johnny.

“Agreed.”

I order my usual. Their shitty house white wine with a side of ice, and Johnny gets a bud bottle. He grabs a few singles off the bar and heads to the jukebox. He always has a good sense of what to play, and soon the music is overtaken by eighties and nineties rock. He usually spends a solid fifteen minutes over there picking songs, so I start chatting with the bartender. He’s a tired looking middle-aged guy wearing a Star Wars t-shirt. I compliment him on his wardrobe choice. We start to discuss about how we both saw the original film in the theater back in 1977.

I started to write about that experience in detail but decided because it was so epic, that I’ll give it its own space in the future. It’s a great story, but this post is about today with Johnny, so it’ll have to wait. The bartender complains about all the stuff wrong with him now that he’s old, like arthritis and what not. I thankfully have none of those problems and I’m only one year younger that him! It’s probably because I have suffered so much emotional, mental and romantic pain in my life, maybe that was enough.

Johnny and I are chatting about our usual stuff. What’s going on with life and work, how he’s annoyed by his girlfriend, music, what shows we’re watching, etc. But one thing that he tells me has struck a chord. He tells me he has started writing his blog again! I really wanted him to do it, and he says he’s written three things so far, and wants to call it Tales from the Gutter. Which I think is a brilliant title. He’s just going to write about his life experiences and things that piss him off. I love it, and I can’t wait to read and be his first follower!

He asks about my blog and I tell him what’s been going on with it. He’s amazed that I’ve completed all of my Monday through Wednesday posts for the next five months.

“What? So, if you dropped dead today, your blog would continue to publish for the next five months?

“Exactly. It’s a written and scheduled.”

“You’re a prolific motherfucker.”

“That I am Johnny. Now let’s get over to the World Famous Gold Club and do what we came out here to do today.”

Eighties hair metal band, Ratt is playing on the jukebox as we walk out the door. We walk north on 15th Street until we get to Chancellor Street and bang a right. On the corner is an Applebee’s that no one I know ever goes to. I once picked up an order of chicken fingers for one of the strippers at the Gold Club. That’s what the Gold Club is; a gentleman’s club. Funny how they call strip joints gentleman’s clubs now. I have rarely seen any gentlemen in strip clubs. It’s usually a bunch of frat boys, douchebags, sad married guys, or creepy sad old men. There is a thrill to going on occasion. I never go alone. I actually don’t really care for such places. I know Johnny digs vice and I wanted the third time I included him in my blog to be interesting. But he knows that.

This side of Chancellor doesn’t even look like a street. It’s just the side of Applebee’s and then you walk a few more steps and at the end of what resembles a filthy alley lined with dumpsters you come upon the entrance to the little strip club. If you kept walking past it you would literally enter the parking garage of the Park Hyatt.

I remember in the past we used to call the club “The Death Star.” Johnny and I would be out at happy hour and we’d be walking around trying to figure out where to go next. After a few rounds we could start to feel the pull of the club. It was like a tractor beam that would just start pulling our little drunken rebel alliance feet over towards 15th and Chancellor. If you know anything about Star Wars, that’s what the Death Star did to the Millennium Falcon.

We enter and the place is pretty dead. It’s dark, but I like that. It’s like you step out of the sunlight of the outside and suddenly enter this other world of booze and flesh. Colored lights dance about the room, and the joint smells of stale beer, cheap perfume, and shame. On the stage is some fat white chick writhing around on the floor. Johnny likes a curvy gal, so he sort of digs her. We take a seat at the back-end of the bar against the wall. If I have to sit at the bar, this is my favorite spot. I can lean against the wall and watch the dancers from the side of the stage.

I order a cheap glass of chardonnay with a side of ice, and Johnny get his usual. The bartender is a cute little black girl that looks like she’s in a really shitty mood. I mean like: “Just kidnapped and put on Le Amistad, shitty mood.”

“Day shift is looking a little rough there Johnny.”

The curvy gal approaches for tips for her dance. I always give a dollar. I don’t need to stuff it between their breasts or in their G-string. I just put it in their hand. I’m sure they get groped and felt up enough. She’s actually very sweet and friendly. Most of the girls usually are. But that’s part of their sales pitch. Their sole duty is to separate the patrons from their cash. But I believe this girl is genuinely sweet. She’s chatting with Johnny and  I glance down at her pale thigh and see that she is, or was a cutter. There is a set of  four short scars just bellow her bikini line.

Check it out here: http://www.webmd.com/mental-health/features/cutting-self-harm-signs-treatment#1

I’d write about cutting, but I don’t know much about it. Apparently it’s more common in girls than boys and they cut themselves to ease the pain of some sort of mental anguish. It’s really sad. Most of the women I’ve met that are or were cutters, suffered from anxiety and depression. So it stands to reason, if you’re an overweight girl who has had the misfortune to end up taking your clothes of in a club for money in front of dirty old men, there’s certainly something that drove you into this vocation.

I’m sure it wasn’t anything pleasant.

And you thought me and Johnny going to a strip joint was going to be fun and erotic. Well, I write what I see and what I feel.

There’s now an attractive Latina girl onstage. She’s kind of hot. After her song she comes over to us. That’s another reason to be at this end of the bar. We get them as soon as they come off stage. I actually find it sexy if an attractive girl is a little sweaty. Latina comes over to me and says hello. We do the fake name exchange. They obviously don’t use their real names.

Incidentally, in this blog all the names have been changed, and the photos are just stock pics I’ve gotten from the internet. Obviously to protect the identities of the people I write about. I tried to find attractive ones that resemble what they look like in real life. But why I’m saying all of this is, the reason I call my friend Johnny R. is because when we would be in the Gold Club he would always introduce himself as Johnny Rivers. Like the singer, who is probably best known for the song, Secret Agent Man. (Which I love! I always used it as my intro music when I used to do stand up.) There were other times he’d be hopped up on coke and Adderall and he would just yell out: “I’m Johnny Rivers!” really loudly in the bar. I always enjoyed that.

So we’re chatting with lovely Latina. Curvy Girl has gone off to make the rounds for more singles and possibly give a lap dance to some hapless gent. Latina has a good body and a nice face. I give her a dollar for her dance and so does Johnny. Both of her nipples are pierced. I suppose some people like this but I really don’t like piercings or tattoos. Does it look kind of hot on a stripper? I guess so, but it’s not my cup of tea. What are nipples for? Right. Where do nipples go? Right. I don’t want to feel any metal in my mouth at anytime. I wore fucking braces for three years. The only metal I want in my body is Heavy Metal! And that goes in my ears and into my heart! I don’t want to put my lips to some girls pert nipple and feel the click of cold steel against my central incisors.

So I guess we’re all clear that I’m not a fan of body modification in any form. Evolution made you beautiful. Leave it alone!

Johnny looks at her breasts. “Did that hurt?”

“No.” is Latina’s reply.

How can driving a sharp piece of metal through a part of your body that’s loaded with nerve endings and blood vessels not hurt?

Okay. No more metal nipple talk.

She goes on her way to make her rounds. Johnny decides he wants to get a lap dance from Curvy Girl. He feels that he can talk her into having sex with him or at least getting her to give him oral sex.

If you know anything about strip clubs, for the most part there is a huge “hands off” policy in place. If you touch any of the girls, you’ll usually be ejected. But not at the World Famous Gold Club! Johnny has had sex with like five different strippers from there over the years. It hasn’t happened in the last few years, but he hasn’t been in the city as much as he used to be.

That, and the place was raided a year or so ago for that very thing. Prostitution. But that’s the charm of this dirt hole. I never have to worry about that sort of thing because I don’t get lap dances. What’s the point of paying $20 per song while some hot nubile girl wiggles around on you and gets you all worked up for no payoff. Well, that’s true for most fellas but apparently not if your name is Mr. Johnny Rivers! He’s never paid for sex ant a strip club.

So he goes off with Curvy Girl to the back room. I’ll be interested to hear how that all goes in a little while. I look over at the stage and there is a really fit black girl sliding around the pole like a lovely ebony serpent. Her body, a lean vessel of sinew and muscle. Already she’s my favorite girl in the place. I know what I just said about lap dances, but I’m a leg man, and her legs are killer. She’s smoking hot.

She comes off the stage and right towards me. I love her! “Hi.” she says in a low sexy voice. Her body is absolutely slammin’. She looks me in eye, takes my hand, and places it on her left breast. Her nipple is like a rubber bullet pressing against my palm. (Just writing this is making me want to stop in there and see if she’s working tonight. Vice!) I gently squeeze her breast and she smiles. Then I release her.

“You’re beautiful! I’m a leg man, and man…if your legs aren’t spectacular.”

“Thank you.”

Johnny returns. “Oh, and what bit of ebony delish is this?” She says hello and gives us her stage name.

“You can touch my legs if you want to.”

I am smitten by this dark temptress. I couldn’t resist. I reach down and just run my hand up the back of her leg. Exquisite. I hand her a few more bucks.

“Do you want to get a private dance with me?”

“You’re the prettiest girl in here. Do you mind if I catch up with my friend, and think about it for a bit?”

“Sure thing. But if you get a dance with me I’ll make your dick hard.”

She slinks away with feline grace. I want that ass, but I don’t do lap dances. I think it’s just a waste of money and gets you nothing in the end. I guess I could make this example: I like to drink. You buy a bottle of something for about $12 and drink it. Over the next few hours of doing whatever you’re doing, you get a buzz, relax, feel good, socialize, or just chill out and let go. So for $12 you can have a great night.

If I go to a casino, I spend $20 because I’m not a gambler and never have been. I burn through that $20 in under 15 minutes, and I’m done. I don’t get off. I don’t feel good, and I’m out $20. Now I know it doesn’t work that way for real gamblers. They get high on the action, not the winning or the losing. Just the action. You see, I need some sort of payoff. I need the reward and with booze I get it, and with gambling I don’t.”

I love women and sex. I have been addicted to the feeling of love, and not really been in love. I didn’t know it at the time, but that’s how it worked. You meet a woman, there is the spark of romance, and if there is chemistry the payoff is hot love and sex. Huge payoff. I think love is the best drug in the world. If we could have sex all the time and feel loved, we’d probably have a lot less problems. I think the greatest feeling one can have, it to love and be loved.

But hey, I digress. That’s why I can’t invest the $20 in the lap dance. I get the action and zero payoff. Now I’m sure Johnny has a whole different view on this issue. Because he likes to gamble, and as we know in the past he’s paid the $20 for the lapper, and gotten a blow job out of it or straight up banged the stripper bareback. Yea…bareback. Like I said. Johnny’s a gambler.

Let’s see if his little foray with curvy girl paid off.

“So, what happened back there with her?”

“I don’t know what’s going on. The last few times I’ve been here, the girls won’t do anything sexual.”

“Think you’re losing your touch?”

“No, it’s probably because the place has been busted so many times. Do you think I’m starting to look like a cop?”

“Well you are Irish Catholic and approaching middle age, sir.”

“Really? I’m not even forty yet, asshole.”

“Wanna blow this place?”

“That’s a lot of dudes. I think they’re here for the ladies, not to get sucked off by you.”

“Let’s go. I’ll call you an UBER.”

 

 

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

Instagram: @phicklephilly    Facebook: phicklephilly

 

Prova – 2015 to Present – Glow of the Sun – Many Happy Hours

“The girl with the lovely smile…”

Finally caught up with busy girl Prova! I had three appointments before my meeting with her that day. The first was with some clown from Brown Forman. I emailed him to confirm our lunch meeting and he responded with “I’d rather do this as a phone call.” So I cancelled that appointment. My second appointment was with the General Manager at The Hard Rock Cafe at 12th and Market. But VP Mike Pence was in town, and President Trump was coming the next day and staying at the Lowe’s Hotel right across the street.  The streets were all blocked, and when I got there the GM said he’s got the Secret Service here and could we do this another day? I see that this part of the city is a shit show so I tell him we’ll reschedule. Then my 3:30 meeting with hot redhead Cheyanne, (whom I’ve been meaning to write about but we can never get our schedules together) gets cancelled, because Cheyanne had been complaining about a migraine she’s been fighting all day. So that’s three down, and one more chance to go before I just give up and go home.

I check in with Prova and she is on her way. We decided to try some different places that we had previously discussed. (See Prova – 2015 to Present – Glow of the Sun) I meet her at Frankie Bradley’s. That bar formerly was a gay bar that was pretty much exclusively for lesbians. (It was called Sisters) But now it’s what I think is just a regular neighborhood bar. Based on some of the signage out front, I think they do a lot of drag shows there. Anyway, it’s a good spot to hang out. We catch up and have a couple of drinks. She tells me she had recently applied for a job there as a bartender. We get a hold of the manager and he comes over to chat. She tells him that she had applied, and he asks her to send him an email and reference her resume. So maybe our lady Prova will be working there soon. It seems like a nice place. We tell the bartender we’re trying some new bars, and he suggests Toast on Walnut. So after we pay our bill we go there.

Toast on Walnut is what the owners from “Sisters” made their new bar. So we walk in and there is a young lady at the door, who cards Prova. She doesn’t card me and I fret that I’m obviously over twenty-one. We all laugh and she asks to see my ID.

Inside it’s a nice bar. The bar itself is whitish blue and appears to be illuminated from within. I stick with the vodka and club and Prova sips a red wine. There aren’t many people in the place, but it’s early. The place is so new, it even smells new! Fresh wood and leather. We decide we’re only going to have one here, and then we’re going to go somewhere else. It’s a nice place but it just seems dead at the moment. So before we leave I tell Prova that I’m going to use the restroom. I walk back through all of the rainbow-colored lights, and walk into the bathroom.

Surprisingly, there is a dude in there using the urinal. But they aren’t your typical urinals. They’re not the vertical, rectangular boxes, with privacy barriers on the sides. These are just oval-shaped deep bowls sticking out of the walls, with no barriers. He’s shaking his dragon away in that little bowl, and I decide to use the stall. I just need a little privacy. I do what needs to be done and I come out of the stall, and see a woman with dark hair drying her hands at the sink.

It’s Prova!

Apparently, they must only have the one community restroom. I was shocked to see her at first.

“What are you doing in here?”

“I just wanted to wash my hands.”

“What if I’d been using one of those little urinal bowls over there when you walked in?”

“I don’t know.”

“You would have gotten a glimpse of what everybody in town is talking about!”

Honest mistake! But that was a close call I wasn’t expecting in a lesbian themed bar. We decide to head over to Boxers. That’s another gay bar on Walnut. It’s a sports bar. But all of the bartenders and staff, walk around with no shirts on. So even though it’s primarily a gay bar, there’s always something for the ladies to look at. All the guys are young and in great shape. I actually like going to boxers. I’ve been there twice. Both times with female friends. Think about it… If you’re a straight guy with female friends it’s the perfect spot. You’re able to watch sports, drink and eat. No assholes are going to mess with you or your friend, because gay dudes are nice. Your friend gets to take in the eye candy, and you do your thing. Everybody wins. We have gentleman’s clubs, at least it gives the ladies something to look at when their out with their male friends. I know most men don’t have female friends. But the men reading this should try. All women that like hanging out with you aren’t targets for you to try to bang. We’d all be better men if we had more female friends. Do it!

We order up some pizza and nachos and go to town on that. We were both hungry so we destroyed most of it. We enjoyed a few drinks there and chatted with the friendly staff. They used to have these drink cards that they would hand out. Every time you bought a drink they gave you a card and the next one was super cheap. So it kept you at the bar longer. It was a great deal! But I asked about it when I was there and the guys told me they can only do that in their NYC location now. When asked why, they said that it’s unlawful in Pennsylvania to encourage people to drink more. Technically it’s not, but it does keep you drinking more and for a longer period of time. PA has a lot of liquor laws because it’s controlled by the Alcohol and Liquor Control Board, which is a state-run agency.

Satisfied with our excursion into the Gayborhood, we decided to have a nightcap at the bar where she works. We hung out at a table and she had a beer and I stick with the vodka and club I had been drinking all night. Some of her co-workers would stop by the table and chit-chat. It was great. There is one guy there, I forget his name, but he’s really funny to talk to. I think he’s Prova’s favorite there.

Prova is a lovely, smart woman who I am glad to have as a friend. I like spending time with her. She continues on her spiritual journey of self discovery in the hospitality industry. I will do whatever I can to help her. Because that’s what we all should do.

Incidentally, it was the longest time I ever hung out with Prova.

Five hours!!!

 

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

Instagram: @phicklephilly    Facebook: phicklephilly