Prova – Boycott

I wasn’t going to run this, but fuck you, Prova.

Boycott

[ˈboiˌkät]

VERB

1.withdraw from commercial or social relations with (a country, organization, or person) as a punishment or protest.

synonyms: spurn · snub · shun · avoid · abstain from · wash one’s hands of

NOUN

1.a punitive ban that forbids relations with certain groups, cooperation with a policy, or the handling of goods.

synonyms: ban · veto · embargo · prohibition · sanction · restriction · avoidance

 

Anytime I end up covering a Saturday for Summer at the salon I usually walk around the corner to see Prova at the bar where she works.

I specifically go there to see her. We’ve both been working a lot and busy with our lives. I haven’t hung out with her in a few months. The last time we were actually out together was at the Angel’s Envy event at the Red Owl in the Hotel Monaco.

I sit at the end of the bar and chat with her and the other bartender, Lizzie. I order a glass of chardonnay with a side of ice. I ask them if I can run over to Dunkin’ Donuts and get them coffee and donuts. They leap at that opportunity and I tell them I’m going out for a smoke and then I’ll go to the store.

Later I come back with exactly what they wanted. Two medium coffees, cream and sugar. A blueberry and a chocolate frosted for Prova, and a frosted for Lizzie.

The girls are happy and Lizzie even high fives me to give thanks to the bounty I have provided.

I’m there for a couple of hours and in that time I’m talking to Prova. She tells me she’s leaving her other job at the rooftop lounge. She hasn’t told them she’s leaving yet but she’s looking. I remember I was there the week before and she had mentioned that. With the success I’ve had getting her this job, and the other one down at the beer garden two years ago, I put the word out.

I even asked my buddy Zack over at City Tap House if they needed bartenders. He said he’d let me know by the end of the week.

Prova tells me she has more days off than ever this upcoming week. I ask her if she’d like to meet me at Square 1682 on Monday for Happy Hour. She smiles and thinks that would be a wonderful idea. I’m looking forward to seeing her outside of this bar again and having a few drinks and chatting uninterrupted for a bit.

I make a mental note but also put it in the calendar. I won’t forget because Prova is my friend, but I do it anyway. I put everything in my calendar. I’m from the business world. (and so is she before she decided to bail on her finance job and work as a bartender in the service industry) You’ve got to stay organized. That way once it’s in there and I can think about other things.

I get my bill and I’m a little perplexed. It’s $27 for 3 glasses of wine. Hmm…

I pay it, and tip accordingly and leave.

“See you Monday, Prova!”

That Monday I’m at Cavanaugh’s doing my thing. You know my thing right? I go there every Monday. I get treated like royalty by Karina. A girl I barely know. My cheese steak that I don’t even have to order, because Karina knows exactly how I want it, and makes that happen. And how I want my soft drink to come out with the food, not before. It’s half off on Mondays, so a cheese steak, fries and endless cokes is $5. Then at 3pm she brings me a Bulliet Manhattan and another one around 4pm. My entire bill is $15.  I go large on her tip because of how well I’m treated. I pay cash because cash is king. THAT’S Hospitality. I can drink at home.

I come out to be served, and served I am at Cavanaugh’s Rittenhouse.

Around 12:30pm I text Prova to confirm a time for tonight.

“What time do you want to meet at Square 1682?”

“Hey sorry totally forgot about today. Can’t meet. Taking care of some work related stuff. can we meet tomorrow?”

“Nope. I’ll be working.”

“Oh, ok I’m sorry. (sad-faced emoji)”

“It’s okay Prova.”

 

But it’s not okay, dear readers.

First of all, I got her that job at that bar. Sure, I know, anybody can get you a job but you’re the one who has to keep it. I get that. But I hooked that shit up for her. I’m a regular there. I know the owner. He’s the Uncle of my partner at the salon, for goodness sakes.

I bring you coffee and donuts because I care about you and like making you happy. You in turn charge me $9 for every glass of wine I had that day. Are you that desperate for tips, Prova? No industry discount, not a “This one’s on us.”

Nothing.

I know every bartender in the city has a certain number of drinks they can give away for free.

But you know what the worst part of this story is?

I made a plan with Prova to meet up and have some social time with her. I value her and my time. I only surround myself with good people now. It’s been a great relief to cut all of the detritus from my life. I care about Prova and like her very much.

She didn’t even have the decency to cancel with me on Monday. She could have even lied if she just didn’t feel like going out that night. I wouldn’t have cared. If I hadn’t reached out she would have just went on with whatever the fuck she did that day and never given me a thought.

But the fact that she ‘totally forgot’ about our meeting hurt my feelings. I remembered I was meeting with her that night. I didn’t have to put it in my calendar, but I did because she’s important to me. I really care about her and our friendship. I remember what kind of coffee she likes and the exact kind of donuts she likes. I remember all of that. I remembered to give her a free tanning session last year. I remembered that she needed to find a job and I found her not one, but two jobs in the same week.

But less than 48 hours after making a plan with me. Charles. You simply forgot. Work related stuff? What the fuck does that even mean?

You can tell I’m angry, disappointed, and most of all hurt. Prova, you simply forgot about me. I don’t mean shit to you. I don’t like the way that makes me feel when you smite me.

It’s rude and I won’t tolerate it. So, I’m going to stop going to the bar where you work. I’m also not going to recommend the place to anyone. I’m not going to text you or make any effort to contact you in any way.

I’m also putting a curse on you.

The curse is that when you reach the age of 35, you’re working behind the bar of some tavern. You have no man in your life who loves you or is courting you for marriage. And you still have to live with a roommate to make ends meet.

Oh wait… That one’s already been taken.

The only way to break the curse is to realize I am no longer in your life before this post publishes. You’ll reach out to me and apologize to me for your infraction. I, of course will forgive you because I truly care for you and always forgive. Everything will go back to exactly how it was before you fucked it up by carelessly discarding a valuable person in your life.

I wonder if you’ll ever wake up and realize that you can’t do that to people who care about you. I’m a person. With a heart. You hurt me Prova. I’m sad. Fix it before this comes out and we’re good. If not?

We’re already done.

I conveyed this story to my buddy Jake and he said to simply let go of the infraction.

 

So I decided to take the high road and let it go. Why should  idrink the poison hoping someone else dies? It’s a waste of valuable energy.

 

UPDATE: I went into the bar she works in bearing coffee and donuts. She was very grateful and said it was just what she needed. I forgive her, but realize we really have nothing in common now that she’s fallen into the black hole of bar hospitality and nightlife at 35 years old.

 

UPDATE: 6/18/18 I set up a lunch with Prova and she was 30 minutes late. I held a special table at one of my favorite lunch spots. When she arrived, she ignored my reservation, and wanted to sit at the bar so she could she could see her friend, the bartender who she knew. This was a recently fired employee from a place where Provo currently works. The friend jokes how Prova puked on her carpet. Nice job. I’m sure your family is so proud of their daughter who is now working in a tap room and pushing 40.

 

Let me describe the scene. I’m waiting at my reserved table for Prova. She’s 30 minutes late. The music at Misconduct is too loud for the lunch crowd but the staff is too dumb to realize that. Prova rolls in and makes a bee line for the bar to see her friend.

She forces me to relinquish my reserved table and sit with her at the bar, because it is no longer about our meeting, but her hanging with her bartender friend.

We eat, and Prova plows wine and shots before her shift at Bar 1518 and I realize that someone I liked has fallen into the black hole.

I have no use for Prova anymore.

I watch as she and her bartender friend do shots in the middle of the day and realize I have no more use for Prova.

She’s a lost soul. and everything I’ve documented in this post stands true.

Good luck, Prova.

You called me for help. I helped you. I liked you. You squandered our friendship.

You’re not a morally bankrupt person.

Here’s your theme.

 

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

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Sun Stories – Lily – Nice To Meet You? – Chapter 1

Oh, lovely Lily.  You came into the salon to tan. We have to be careful with you. We can’t just throw you into a 12 minute sun bed and over expose you. You’re unique and special. We need to be gentle with you.

Who are you lovely Lily? We’ll tan you for whatever reason you need to but you seem illusive and reserved.

I’m so happy I met you. I told you I write a blog and want to tell your story. I look forward to crushing wine or beer and cigarettes at McGlincheys with you.

I believe you could become a series in this blog. Your story is so unique I feel everyday I want to meet you for a drink.

I have no interest in exploiting you Lily. I just want to tell your story.

 

We were supposed to meet the week before, but she got really stressed out at work because her job is really demanding. She broke out in hives on her face and didn’t want to be seen in public. 

I get that. 

 

I wrote the above words about two months ago and I just confirmed with Lily that we are meeting for drinks tonight. I’ll finally get to know this enigmatic beauty. Technically it’s a Sun Story because I met her at the salon, but I’m getting to know her outside at a bar so I’m going to leave it as is.

I know she works in the medical field. But I feel like she’s into something else as well. So hopefully I’ll find out tonight.

I purposely didn’t order any food in for dinner tonight because I knew I’d be dining with Lily in a couple of hours. So I’m hungry.

I’m at the salon and I get a text from Lily an hour and a half before we’re supposed to meet that says the following:

“Would you be interested in a different restaurant? I actually just had Dan Dan on Sunday.”

I immediately text my buddy Roman over at Square 1682. “Are you at Square?”

“Damn right.”

I text Lily back. “Meet me at Square 1682.”

“Perfect.”

I’m happy about this change of venue. I didn’t really feel like going to Dan Dan anyway. Now I can see my favorite bartender in the city.

I get to Square at 8:15. Got to be punctual. Maybe she’s already there.

Roman is happy to see me and shakes my hand. He places a fresh glass of Chardonnay in front of me with a side of ice.

My man.

All good. I’m here early and looking forward to getting to know more about lovely Lily when she arrives. I’ll probably go with the burger and I may be able to crush it because I haven’t eaten since 2pm today.

“I liked the piece you did about McGlinchey’s in your blog. It was spot on.” (See: Why Philly Icon Bar McGlinchey’s May Never Be The Same) 

“Thank you, Roman!” I’m happy that he reads and subscribes to my blog. A busy beverage manager, bartender, husband and dad has time to check out my work.

I’m sipping my Chard and chilling at the bar. It’s a quiet night despite it being Restaurant Week here in Philly.

Restaurant Week happens twice a year I think. The spots that participate in it offer a few menu items for reduced rices. Three course meals for $35 each. That’s deadly for Philly.  You just can’t get that in this city at that price anywhere.

At 8:30 I text Lily that I’m at the bar.

I’m sipping and chatting with Roman and happy to be at my favorite bar in the city but only because of my favorite bartender. I don’t go out much anymore and it’s a treat to be here. I’m completely in my element here. The bar is elegant, dimly lit, and it almost feels like it’s date night here tonight. There are several couples coming and going at the bar.

I look to the end of the bar and hot latina server, Carla waves. I throw her the heart sign and she grabs it and presses it to her heart and smiles.

Ella is running around and waves as she cruises by me.

I’m home. I love this bar.

I haven’t heard back from Lily. I text her at 8:45: “Are you okay?”

I go out for a smoke. The cig tastes cool in the 30 degree night. I’m sure I’ll get a text from her cursing her UBER driver. It happens. My dear friend Alice is always classically late. I’m not worried. (See: Alice – The Cute Recruiter)

I go back in and Roman and I are chatting. I tell him I’m meeting a girl here tonight to interview her for the blog.

“Give her until 9pm. The half hour rule. Anything could have happened in this city.”

“I’ll call her at 9.”

“Good plan.”

I’m on my second glass of Chard and feeling fine. If nothing else, I’m in my favorite bar with my number one bartender. I’m only a few blocks from my house and it’s not freezing out.

I step away from the bar and go into the lobby of the hotel. I call Lily. It rings and rings and then her voicemail comes up. I leave a message:

“Hey Lily. Hope you’re okay. I’m at Square. Just checking to see if you’re alright. Call me back or text me.”

I go back to the bar. I know she said in a previous text that she would have to leave around 9:45 from our meeting. It is now 9:10. I tell Roman I want to close out.

I haven’t been stood up since the 90’s.

I’m not angry. There has to be a reason. This is a responsible woman with a real job.

I pay the bill and walk home.

I enter my apartment and am very happy to see my daughter Lorelei. (See: Lorelei – 1996 to Present – Father’s Day) She looks adorable. She has a new platinum pixie haircut. She looks like Tinkerbell.

I love that kid!

She’s watching The Dukes of Hazard on my flat screen on Netflix. The remake with Jessica Simpson. She says she’s never seen it. She liked Jessica when she was a kid. I was more than happy to buy her the poster for her room back in the day.

Image result for jessica simpson dukes of hazzard

 

The only reason for me to watch that retched film would be to see her with those slamin’ legs. The only way I could view that movie would be with the sound turned down and listening to Nine Inch Nails playing the song: “Closer.”

But I digress…

I’m in my room, sipping chardonnay and smoking a cig. I start writing this piece. The great thing about writing about your life is, even if it goes badly. You still get a story out of it.

Blog needs content. Feed the beast. Good or bad you still get a story out of it.

 

Wait! I just got a text from Lily!

 

What the hell happened? Tune in tomorrow!

 

 

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

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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.

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Dina – 2011 to Present – In The Vault

“These clowns come in and are fans of Prova and act like crazy drunk, loud assholes. I fucking hate that. I literally want to call the cops and say these middle eastern looking guys were talking about taking flying lessons and not landing lessons and there was talk about the new Comcast tower being built.

They were that annoying.”

I crush it at the salon on a Saturday because I’ll be gone for 3 days. Dina, my friend and broker and I meet up at 1518 Bar & Grille. She’s 4’11” and adorable. She also has the metabolism of a bee. She loves Smores, fried chicken, Oreos, and ice cream.

Dina orders a lemon martini. I’m on my 2nd straight up with a twist and Asha the bartender hooks me up with house but it’s Ketel One.

She looks hot.  Boots, dark jeans, and custom leather jacket. Cute as hell. Dark curls tumble about her shoulders and of course that hot pouty mouth of hers.

I introduce her to  her to Prova the bartender. (See: Prova – 2015 to Present – Glow of the Sun) She looks amazing as always. Those dimples!

These clowns come in and are fans of Prova and act like crazy drunk, loud assholes. I fucking hate that. I literally want to call the cops and say these middle eastern looking guys were talking about taking flying lessons and not landing lessons and there was talk about the new Comcast tower being built.

They were that annoying.

Dina is amazing. She’s such a no bullshit girl who is so sure about herself. I love her plus she looks 18. I always knew she was too good for any life or job i saw her in. I’m also happy her husband is such a chill solid pup he doesn’t mind his hot wife hanging out with the Dark Lord and having drinks.

We need to get out of here. These Indian guys suck. So loud and annoying. I can’t think straight.

We close out and I let the staff know that there’s no hard feelings but that’s why we’re leaving. We need to talk and I need to hear her. I miss my friend.

We never go out on Saturday night. It’s all young drunk people around city. The women are extraordinary though.

We decide to check out Square 1682 but the staff sucks and we head to Sofitel. Liam is on and so is the waitress who likes to go topless when she gets drunk. Let’s just call her Tulip. I usually do a rock trivia thing with Liam but tonight I have a different one.

“You wake up and look out your front door and see the sun rise out of the Atlantic Ocean. Later that day, you walk out your back door and watch the sun set in the Pacific Ocean. Where is your house?”

Tulip looks great and I intro Dina to the crew. The bar is full so we sit and a quiet table in the lounge, which is glorious. Tulip brings a snack tray for Dina because as we all know, she loves to eat.

Dina’s happy and we order wine. She’s hungry, so more food is on the way. I got the drinks at 1518 but I know she’ll cover everything from here which is clutch.

We catch up on my life. Daughter Lorelei, the fitness center I should be opening in Rittenhouse in the next 60 days, and what’s happening with this blog, the book, and TV series we’re developing about it. Dina and her husband just settled on a house in Rittenhouse so I love that they’ll be in the neighborhood with us.

Liam is texting me solutions to my puzzle and they’re all wrong.

She says she has a strange story about a former colleague of mine. This person has since cut me off a couple of years ago for no apparent reason, but he likes to keep weak inferiors around him, and I hate his friends and wife anyway so its no loss to me. We could have been mighty but he never did what he was supposed to do with the business so now it’s just a trust fund baby’s way to play work. I loved the guy, but he has to make the juvenile choices he needs to make.

She tells me about this dinner she had with this other dude, I used to know that always had a thing for her. He’s harmless. We all still think he’s a virgin, so there’s that. He’s a really smart guy that is always super excited about everything that is before him, and it comes off as childish. I like the guy, but to me he’s just a bore.

If he would just get laid he’d probably chill out and get a different perspective on everything. I hate to say that, but that would probably fix his ass.

She goes to this dinner with this guy, as a friend or a wing woman or whatever with my former colleague and his horrible wife. I remember Everybody hated this guy’s wife years ago. She’s awful. She’s kind of hot. But only in the sense that if I were marooned on a desert island with her I would bang her for a few months but it would only be a matter of time before I became so annoyed with her that I would eventually kill her and eat her to survive just to not have to listen to her endless bullshit.

So they have their awkward dinner, little virgin guy gets an UBER with Dina back to Rittehouse. He gets in the car with her and says:

“So they are separated. She wanted it.”

I know this guy has a pre-nup so he’s well protected in regard to his daddy’s loot.

“Really?”

She thinks the wife is awful just like the rest of us.

“Yea, he went to an event and told her he could only get one ticket because they were really expensive, but he went with is new editor.”

“Oh wow. That’s a shame.”

“Yea, and his wife is living at the house, (because she doesn’t earn shit) and he said he’s living at a hotel but he’s really living with new editor girlfriend at an apartment somewhere.”

I am not shocked about this news because I knew he was miserable with that harpy years ago. She cheated on him in college and is crazy. She has destroyed property at the house, assaulted people at concerts, fights with him all the time, withholds sex all the time, has flushed his weed, and cigars, and is just an all around child who behaves as if she has fetal alcohol syndrome. Thank God she never wanted kids, because he dodged a huge child support bullet and should just cut that beast loose.

But he’s cut me off and I take that as a smite to me. I loved the guy and we were tight. I don’t know hat’s happened to him, but I’m sure he’s in a world of pain right now. I hope he gets through it okay, but I’m German and so is he, and if you read this dude, then schadenfreude is a bitch baby.

Karma can be a real fucker. You reap what you sow. You make bad life choices and that shit comes back on you like a hurricane. I just hope he can cash her out and flush her from his life and hopefully move on with the new mistress he’s fucking.

Dina and I eat and drink like Gods at Sofitel and I’m happy just to have her in my presence and hear her voice. I adore her. She’s so sound as a woman. I wish I could replicate her into five more to hang out with. Maybe a lawyer, and accountant Dina would be a start.

I go out for a smoke and she pays the bill. (Love her!) We both trust each other implicitly with all of our honesty and the relationship is wonderful. She takes care of my money and knows how to keep her mouth shut. Obviously we discuss everything that’s going on in our lives and it’s so intimate that I can’t talk about it here but maybe someday if this becomes a TV show our characters can talk about children, and marriage, but I can’t divulge our secrets here. Don’t worry’s it’s not that exciting, but this is a dating blog and not a forum for right and wrong.

We decide to head out and Dina needs Ben & Jerry’s. Of course I stand and put her leather jacket on her slight frame. You have to be a gentleman 100% of the time with everyone, guys.

We step out into the night. It’s stopped raining and the street is wet and the air is cool.

Happily there’s a store half way down the block from the hotel bar and it’s still open. I’m a wine, cocktail and carb guy. I’m just not really into sweets or dairy anymore. It doesn’t agree with my physiology. Middle age. But she’s 28 and looks 18 and loves sweets. She says we MUST stop there. I’ve walked by the place a hundred times and have had no desire to ever climb the steps and go in. (Even on National Ice Cream Day, where they give away free cones all day!)

We go in and this is alien to me. I never go into ice cream parlors. It’s clean and bright. I like it but prefer a dark bar.

The kid with the hat and dreds and tie-dye shirt is sweet and articulate. He knows his products. I always admire that. Dina knows this place so well that if she asks for endless samples of every crazy flavor combination they will let her put them in her mouth endlessly. I have this arrangement with Prova but she does it for me with craft beers so I get it. The ice cream flavors seem delicious, and she devours a few samples lovingly.  She encourages me to partake in the samples but I know what rich dairy will do to my colon so I only do one. It is some sort of chocolate, vanilla, cookies and nuts and crushed cone concoction. It is exquisite in my mouth.

I get it. But there are things in my life now that are far sweeter than any frozen treat can match.

Dina decides on some lethal combo and they put it all on a sugar cone. This is actually a really sweet moment in my mind. I adore Dina. I trust her with my money and my secrets. She’s one of my favorite people in my life.

I’m not getting an ice cream cone but this reminds me of some of the sweet romantic moments of my young life. Getting an ice cream cone with a young pretty girl on a Saturday night. She manages my financial portfolio and is a trusted friend but in this moment I am just happy to walk her home.

She’s loving her ice cream cone as we stroll through Rittenhouse with me walking on the inside so she doesn’t get splashed by a passing car.

I love this.

I like walking her home to her stoop and giving her a hug goodnight. We promise to keep in touch and have a lunch in our future. She unlocks her door and goes back to her husband and her little dog Lily.

I light a cig and walk home. The streets are wet and slick. They reflect the lights and sounds of the city. I’m happy after a long day at the salon, and a sweet night with a feiend.

I look forward to tomorrow.

 

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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Church – 2012 to Present – Angel’s Envy – Part 2

“Did you touch them?”
 
“Yea.”
 
“You’re killing us, Liam!”
 

Church and I step out into the warm afternoon sun. We sadly run into this little troll from the Trestle Inn that loves us both. She literally looks like she has troll or hobbit in her family. She’s awful. We hug her and it’s absolute torture for me and my comrade, but we have to be nice.
Church brings the car around and Liam and I get in. Church is doing his usual rage driving and Liam starts talking.
There is a hip crazy waitress that works at Sofitel. We all love her. She’s a tall brown-haired beauty. She has damage, but who cares, she’s pretty. Church is cranking Ozzy in the car and we’re all feeling good.
Liam goes on to tell us that he’s been to this waitress’ house to drink and she always breaks her tits out. We love and admire this lovely woman and can’t imagine her doing this.
When you go to a bar and love and respect the staff, and you suddenly hear something like this, it’s like seeing nudity in People magazine on the counter at Rite aid. When you hear about your friend and server breaking her tits out with her co workers at a party it creates all sorts of new thoughts in your mind..
We’re driving Liam to work and Church and my brains are exploding because all we can think about how his co workers tits swinging free and somehow we are there. We really like her and find it hard to believe she does shit like that. But the more we think about her and her past, we sort of pull it together.
“Did you touch them?”
“Yea.”
“You’re killing us, Liam!”
We drop off Liam at Sofitel. Church and I are laughing as he searches for a parking spot. He’s the king of finding spots in the city. I don’t know anyone that can always manage to find a great space, usually right near wherever we want to hang out.
Church decides we’re going to crash the Angel’s Envy cocktail party at Dandelion. I’m already buzzed, so I’m down for anything. We walk in and tell the hostesses we’re with the Angel’s Envy party. Without even asking who we are or if we’re on the list they tell us to head upstairs.
Upstairs at Dandelion is nice. London’s culinary revolution cames to Philadelphia with this unique gastropub. Cozy rooms and intimate bars create a storied, Old World aura, while updated seasonal takes on British food make up the menu.
The event is being held in what’s referred to as “The Dog Room.” The whole room and bar is all done up with everything canine. Pictures of dogs, and little figurines on the shelves. Even the brass rail that surrounds the front of the bar is held in place by a row of brass bulldog heads chomping down on the rail. I always said they should hide one cat in there somewhere, and if you can find it among the dozens of dogs in there, maybe you get a free drink.
Now this is a party. The owner of the brand is there, and everybody is plowing delicious food and sipping bourbon cocktails. Church is chatting with his buddy the local rep for PA.  I take a bite out of a delicious slider and take a photo of it in my hand. I send the pic to Prova and tell her she’s missing free food and drinks. I tell her to grab an UBER and get down here.
Crickets.
The owner of Angel’s Envy makes a little speech, and they pour shots of the bourbon for everyone to do a toast. Church is on the wagon, and his buddy is working, so they literally pour their shots into my glass. So when we do the toast I pound down 3 shots of bourbon in one gulp.
I run into a few people I know in the industry and chat with some attractive ladies that are also present. So since 3pm this afternoon we’ve been having a wonderful day.
So after the happy hour/party we head over to Sofitel for some quiet frivolity. The bartender that went with us to Karma earlier is there with Liam. He talks shit on Prova saying she had “an agenda” to take us to Karma. Like she had ulterior motives. I don’t like how this clown was invited to a free bourbon tasting. Ate the food, drank the cocktails, and then disappears from Karma and doesn’t even finish his drink. He just scampers off to work. Then talks smack on one of my dear friends.
But all is forgiven because I can’t control the hearts and minds of others and I’m friends with Prova, not him. I hang out with her, I drink at the bar where he works and we really come to see Liam and some of the girls that host and serve there.
(But Prova has already texted me back and says she is on her way down.)
But he tells an interesting story. He said when he was younger he was riding in the car with his family. They were in the car on their way to New York. His dad has Philly’s local rock station on. The song Iron Man by Black Sabbath came on the radio. He had never heard it before and he instantly loved it. He asks his father who sings that song. His pop says some guy named, Ozzy.
So one day when he’s 12 years old, they stop in a music store. He can’t find the song on any of Ozzy’s records. He ends up walking up to this old hippie, and asks him about the song. The hippie takes him to the section where Black Sabbath’s CD’s are located. He pulls out the album entitled Paranoid and hands it to him.
He had some birthday money from his grandparents so he bought the album and has loved Sabbath ever since.
I really liked that little story. You’ve been redeemed!
Prova shows up half in the bag. On Church’s orders he tells her to get some food. I’m happy we’re all together. Good hospitality and good people make for a lovely day!
I go out for a smoke. I run into my favorite homeless guy outside. He always tells me a joke, so I give him a dollar or two to get him something to eat.
I tell him I may start to write for One Step Away, the homeless publication here in Philly. I’m feeling drunk and get a little misty about it. He senses it and moves on to get his hamburger at McDonald’s. I watch him shuffle off down the street and around the corner. I stub out my cigarette, and walk back into the warmth of the beautiful hotel Sofitel. My friends are there and so is a crisp glass of chardonnay and free bar snacks.
My thoughts return to my homeless guy. But I smile and chat with Prova and the gang and take a sip of wine.

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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Phicklephilly – Night of the Huntress

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.

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