Sun Stories: Trish – Crash and Burn

When we last left our hero he was forced to go in and run the salon after Trish simply didn’t show up for work. He had plans with Cherie after 3pm that day and needed to do some chores to prepare for her arrival. But Because of Trish’s disappearing act, he now had to change his plans. He was working at the salon when suddenly Trish burst through the front door.

“I’m so sorry…”

She’s visibly upset on the verge of tears. She runs to me and hugs me.

“What happened?”

“I was arrested last night.”

“What? How? Why?”

“Well, I’ve been feeling kind of fucked up lately in my life. I used to do a lot of coke when I was in college and I just felt like I needed a lift to do some artwork I was working on.”

(Sounds like my buddy, Johnny R. He has all of these thoughts in his head but feels like he needs to drink, do coke and/or do some Adderall to put pen to page. When in reality, he’s not much different than Trish. You don’t need any of that shit to create. You just need to create everyday. But neither of them can focus long enough to make anything of any significant value because they don’t do it consistently. Simple as that.)

“So what did you do?”

I called this hot black guy I met at Ray’s Birthday Bar a few weeks ago. I asked him if he had anything and he said come down to where he was. Normally I would ask the person to deliver it to my house so I didn’t have to go somewhere that I’m unfamiliar with.”

“So then what happened and why did you break your rule?”

“Because he was really good looking.”

“Ahh… Trish yields to beauty! I can relate. So then what?”

“I ride my bike down to where he is and he tells me he has to go in some bar and get it. He asks me to come in but I tell him I’ll wait outside. After a bit, he comes out and we make the exchange.”

“So what happened next?”

“He goes back inside the bar and I start pedaling home on my bike and some guy gets out of his car and tells me to stop.”

“Was he dressed like a policeman?”

“No. But you could tell he was a cop. You just know. I’m like… What the fuck? The dude shows me his badge and they place me under arrest for conspiracy to commit a crime and possession of an illegal controlled substance.

“Whoa…”

“Yea, they also pinch the dude I bought it from. Apparently it’s his second offense so he’ll probably get sent up the river for three to five.”

“Why do I suddenly feel like I’m on some TV cop show?”

“So that’s where I’ve been for the last eighteen hours. In the can.”

“That sucks. This was supposed to be your last day here too. I’ve already taken your shift. You’re probably in no shape to work today.”

“Yea. Is it okay if I just hang out and help a bit?”

“Sure.”

“Then I’m going to go get my bike. I’ll probably UBER down to South Philly later and retrieve it… if it’s still there.”

So Trish cleaned a few beds, and later left to get her bicycle. She returned saying that she was happy the bike hadn’t been stolen or vandalized and that this had been a wake up call for her. She did some sweeping at the end of the shift and she an I walked back to our building in Rittenhouse.

I felt bad for Trish, although Achilles would later simply call her an asshole or a crackhead for not showing up for her shift and not calling or texting. She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time Friday night. Think of how much cocaine was bought and sold and consumed last night in this city. She hadn’t bought coke since she was in college. Here she was at nearly 28 years old and gets pinched the first time she tries to get some again.

She took several Saturday’s off and I covered her shifts when she was shooting a pilot for a TV show. It was supposed to be a reality show about hot girls searching for the paranormal in Gettysburg, PA. That sounds like a load of shit, but if Trish were on a show and she was wearing hot outfits, I’d watch it.

But the pilot got made and the actors never got paid, and to me it was a waste of time. The purveyors got their pilot done and got free help to be in it. They will shop it around to some networks and if it never gets picked up that’ll be the end of it. Trish never sees a dime and is actually out more money because she took time off from work and the costs associated with getting to and from Gettysburg.

Now she’ll have a criminal record. I’m sure for a first offense she’ll get a slap on the hand, a fine, and have to take some NA classes but that’ll be it. Maybe she can even get it expunged from her record in the future.

Trish didn’t want me to write about this, but it happened. It happened on her very last day at the salon. She blew it with a single bad decision. I’m simply writing about what happened on the day I was supposed to be off and spend time with my beloved. My girlfriend who I never get to see as much as I would like to and had to tell Cherie to push back our union. No, you can’t come and see me at 3pm. I don’t care what arrangements you’ve had to make with your family, your job or your son, because Trish fucked up. But when people make bad decisions they never realize how it will affect the people around them. That’s why they are who they and why they are where they are in their lives. I need to leave those people behind to wallow in their failure.

Trish still can come to the apartment and hang with my daughter, Lorelei, and I’ll be civil. But she fucked me and Achilles and the salon. And for that, we are done with her.

But the saga is not over yet.

 

 

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

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Sun Stories: Trish – Critical Mass

“Today was supposed to be her last day at the salon and no one knows where she is.”

It’s been a few weeks since I’ve seen my love, Cherie. But we’re accustomed to that with what our schedules are. We appreciate what little time we can spend together. We make every minute count.

Cherie planned to come down on Saturday around 3pm and stay until 8:30am Sunday morning. I thought this was good, because I could at least have dinner with her or take her out somewhere, before we went back to the bat cave and tore each other to pieces.

I wake up Saturday morning. I stayed up late the night before because I knew it was my first day off in a while and I wanted to sleep in. I could take myself out to a nice breakfast, put some fresh sheets on the bed, prepare my bedroom for the inevitable and run some errands before Cherie arrived at 3pm.

I’m lying in bed and I look at my phone. Achilles had called. Achilles also texted me.

“Do you know if Trish went to work?”

(Okay, Trish is my neighbor who lives in the apartment below me. I got her the job at the salon, but how in the hell am I supposed to know if she went to work today?)

“I’m assuming she did.”

I text Trish. “Hey can you see if I left my charger there? It would be plugged in under the counter.”

(That was just a ruse to see if she was there. I didn’t want her to think I was checking up on her.)

Achilles: “No answer at the salon.”

Me: “Fuck.”

“I’ll head over there now. But I’ll need about 30 minutes.”

I jump out of bed and into the shower. I’m dressed and out the door 30 minutes later. I speed walk over to the salon and when I get there I see four people sitting on the steps and the salon is locked and dark. One of them is the new girl I’ve been training, Jill.

I tell everybody I’m sorry for the today’s delay, but I can get them all in to tan right now. Jill is obviously upset. She had just come in to tan when she saw the place was locked. It’s nearly 1pm now. We’ve lost 2 hours worth of business, and there’s been no word from Trish.

“I was so worried when I texted you and didn’t hear anything.” Jill said.

“I wouldn’t have heard my phone, Jill. I was rushing to get over here to see what happened.”

I get everybody, including Jill, into their respective rooms to tan. I’ve got everything under control. But still no word from Trish. I roll with the notion of what’s happened around in my mind. I no longer consider Trish a friend. I tried that but I can’t take the crazy, so I’ve stopped hanging out with her. But she’s a sweet person and she comes up to the apartment all of the time and hangs out with my daughter, Lorelei. So I decide that whatever circumstances have caused Trish to miss work I’m not going to be angry, because I don’t want it to be weird when she comes over to see my daughter, or worse I don’t want her to feel bad that she can’t come up to the apartment anymore.

Trish has been expressing for the last two months that she’s tired of working in customer service. She’s a 27-year-old graphic artist. I think her own mind is what’s been holding her back from getting and keeping a real job in her field of endeavor. Which is sad. Here you have all of this talent and it’s being squandered on a daily basis. I can actually smell her talent being sledgehammered by the familiar stench of marijuana smoke that I experience everyday as it wafts up through the floor into my apartment. Morning and at night. (So she’s using to simply get through each day instead of for fun. If you want to use to create that’s great, but if you use to just leave the house and deal with life, that’s a problem.

I like to drink. I love alcohol. But I do it at the end of the day, when all the work is done. Trish has to smoke weed just to leave the house everyday. That coupled with the oceans of coffee she drinks on a daily basis to cope with the dope. She really should be on some sort of cocktail of medication and in therapy at this point. It’s very clear to me.

Something that should be enjoyed and used as a treat has been a coping mechanism for her. It’s the same for the person that needs to take a drink in the morning to “take the edge” off the day. They’re called alcoholics.

Up till now I haven’t cared about her burning up her talent and watching it go up in a puff of smoke at the end of a joint. But I brought her into the salon.  Now after a year she’s fucking up. That, or returning to her true self. When we hired her last year, the busy season was over. The job was easy then. But now we are being overwhelmed by the clients and business In general. You have to run the salon. You can’t let it run you. We’ve gotten a bad Yelp review recently because of her. Clients have complained of late openings and a bad attitude around closing. Trish shouldn’t work with the general public. She can’t handle the fast paced environment of a busy salon.

Achilles would send me in to help few nights lately. Instead of working like a well oiled unit like Summer and I did, I do all the running and Trish takes her foot off the gas and takes it easy. That’s not how it works.

So that’s why we’ve brought in Jill. She has previous salon experience, and I could see from day one that she would probably work out. Poor Trish just doesn’t have the temperament to work with people.

So the situation we find ourselves in today was supposed to be her last day and no one knows where she is.

Jill comes out from tanning and asks if she can do anything to help and says if I have plans she can work today, because she has nothing going on. I tell her I’m good, and hand her a shopping list for her to go to Wawa and get me some food because I’m going to be here until 6pm.

Oh shit! Cherie is coming at 3pm! I text her and tell her we’ve had a crisis at the salon and I have to work until 6pm. Of course as wonderful and flexible as Cherie is, she is fine with it and tells me she’ll come down at 7pm. I apologize and thank her for being understanding. So Trish’s whatever has fucked up the plans of some innocent people, so she better have a good excuse for bailing on work  on her final day and not even telling anyone what was going on.

Cherie is a mother, and has to make babysitting arrangements when she comes into the city to see me. I feel bad if that’s causing my girlfriend stress and money because of someone else’s fuck up.

Suddenly Trish comes blazing through the door to the salon.

“I’m so sorry…”

She’s visibly upset on the verge of tears.

“What happened?”

“I was arrested last night.

To Be Continued…

 

 

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

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Dating and Relationship Advice – 12 Things That Destroy a First Impression Immediately

Research shows that the first impression is formed within 7 seconds of meeting somebody. If you have a job interview, the manager can make a decision about hiring you in just 30 seconds. Avoiding the common mistakes that ruin this first impression could increase your chances of finding a job, a friend, a client, or a life partner.

I collected some common blunders that can make you appear rude, bored, selfish, and annoying in the eyes of a person you meet for the first time. Read this list through to the end to find out how to avoid errors and use your 7 seconds wisely.

1. Weak handshake

12 Things That Destroy a First Impression Immediately

Limp handshakes can be a real killer of the first impression. Research shows that people with a weak handshake are judged as being shy, anxious, less open, and lacking any ability. Another common mistake people make is holding the other person’s hand for too long. If you want to succeed, give a firm handshake and follow the two-second-rule.

2. Wrong hand position

12 Things That Destroy a First Impression Immediately

Mind the position of your hands while sitting. You can put your hands in your lap, but don’t put them in your pockets because it will suggest that you are hiding something. If you put your hands on the table, don’t squeeze your hands too tight or put your palms down, it could indicate that you want to control the interviewer.

Also, while placing hands on the table and loosely folding them is an appropriate and even preferrable position in the Western world, this gesture would be considered rude in Japan and India.

3. Chewing gum

12 Things That Destroy a First Impression Immediately

If a person sees you for the first time and you are chewing gum, they might think you are sombebody that is immature, childish, and somewhat lower class. Chewing gum is a bad idea at a job interview. However, in less formal circumstances, people chewing gum are usually evaluated as more friendly and approachable.

4. Avoiding eye-contact

12 Things That Destroy a First Impression Immediately

Eye-contact is a powerful tool for making a good first impression. Research shows that people maintaining eye contact while talking and listening are often judged as more confident and intelligent. People avoiding eye contact, on the other hand, are viewed as less sincere, less attractive, and more anxious.

5. Playing with your hair

12 Things That Destroy a First Impression Immediately

While women have been shown to touch their hair up to 18 times a day, playing with hair can send the wrong signal to the person you’re sepaking with. While it’s often used as a flirting technique, it can also indicate anxiety, low self-esteem, stress, and discomfort. When playing with hair becomes repetitive and obsessive, it can even signal an impulse control disorder.

6. Wrong conversation topics

12 Things That Destroy a First Impression Immediately

There are some taboo topics which won’t help you make a good first impression on anyone: health problems, money, religion, ex-bosses or ex-partners, politics, or personal life and problems. Try not to focus the conversation only on yourself and don’t forget to listen to the person you’re speaking with.

7. Invading personal space

12 Things That Destroy a First Impression Immediately

Physical space is the distance you make between you and the person you’re speaking with. Researchers distinguish four levels of personal space. The distance between you and the person you’ve just met at a formal meeting should be about 4 to 12 feet. If you approach the other person too closely you may seem aggressive, while standing too far away shows you aren’t interested.

8. Making distracting noises

12 Things That Destroy a First Impression Immediately

Any random sounds you make, like tapping your foot, tapping your fingers, or cracking your knuckles may be annoying and distracting to others. Tapping can indicate nervousness, irritation, or impatience, and can also suggest that you are lying or trying to irritate others. While cracking knuckles can help you relieve stress, it’s one of the top most annoying sounds, according to a survey conducted by The New York Times.

9. Frequently checking your watch or cellphone

12 Things That Destroy a First Impression Immediately

The average person checks their phone 110 times a day! Yet, it’s very impolite to check your phone or watch during a conversation. It shows that you are not interested in the other person, that you are bored, and that you have better things to do. Research shows that even having your phone on the table next to you reduces a conversation’s quality and engagement.

10. Forgetting names

12 Things That Destroy a First Impression Immediately

It is embarrassing if you forget a person’s name, especially if this person remembers yours. To avoid this, immediately repeat the name after the introduction like: “Hi, Anna! Nice meeting you.” Don’t use the excuse that you are terrible with names, if you are interested in the other person the name will stay in your head.

11. Being late

12 Things That Destroy a First Impression Immediately

When you arrive late, you give the impression that you are unreliable, bad with planning, don’t value others’ time, and lack commitment. Try to manage your time in a way that you won’t be anxious about being late and won’t need to rush. Even when you arrive on time but had to run before that, you won’t be centered and focused enough.

12. Bad attire

12 Things That Destroy a First Impression Immediately

Statistics says that 55% of the first impression is based on your appearance. Some studies show that your appearance, height, weight, hair color, and amount of make up can influence the size of your paycheck. If you meet somebody for the first time try to be conservative and neutral in your choice of clothing, be polished, and don’t use heavy perfume.

Do you recognize yourself in any of those descriptions? Which of these points would ruin your opinion about a person with no hopes of improvement? Which points should be added to this list? Share your opinions and experiences in the comments.

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

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Wildwood Daze – Summer of 1977 – El Morro Motel

It had been the worst year of my young life. I was 14 going on 15 years old. But Junior High at Fels was finally over and I was at the shore for the summer in Wildwood. I was basically what my father called a Prisoner of Love. That meant limited time out. You don’t get rewarded with a bunch of fun and free time after having such a shitty school year. I think if some of the bullying laws were in place back then like they are now maybe I wouldn’t have had such a horrible time in school.

When a child is being abused at school and at home you just can’t concentrate in school. I was a smart kid, but I hated my life and didn’t want to apply myself like my more compliant and solid sister Janice.

My father was going to keep me busy all summer doing chores around the house. First of which was to scrub all of the rust off of all of the bicycles. The salt air oxidizes all things metal at the shore. It was going to be a horrible arduous task.

I was walking down 10th street one day with my friend Dominic. We were probably coming from our favorite arcade, Botto’s. We were nearly to the corner of 10th and Ocean ave. It was a warm day in June. That corner property was the El Morro Motel. It was a cute classic seashore motel. (That’s the best pic I could find of it, but that’s the genuine article)

On the door to the office was a Help Wanted sign for a poolboy. I went in and applied. I had never had a job before and didn’t even know how to go about it. But I went in and spoke to the owner. He told me to fill out a little application, and come back with signed working papers. I think you need that if you’re under the age of 18. (Maybe 16?)

My skin was clearing up in the summer sun and sea. My top braces had been taken off, and I didn’t need to wear my glasses all of the time. So I was emerging from puberty as an okay looking boy. I felt a little more human.

I go home and tell my parents. My mom said we’d go to the local city hall and get the necessary forms. But when my father found out he was overjoyed. That’s all it took. This was the beginning of my teenage years getting better. No more prison time, I was treated better, and especially no rust scrubbing job for me. This was actually the turning point for me as a young man.

I got the job and started that Monday morning at 7am.  I made $40 a week. But for a 14-year-old kid in 1977, that was serious money. I was living on $5 a week allowance from my mom and doing fine. Comic books were 20 cents back then so for a buck you could get five! A slice of pizza was fifty cents and a soda was a quarter. Pinball was twenty-five cents for three games. So five bucks went a long way back then. The rest of the time we were on the beach playing. That was summer back then.

I go in and the owner is there to show me how to do the job. I thought I’d be skimming the pool and what not, I had no idea what a job was but I actually had a somewhat complex job description. Pool Boy sounds like a nothing job but here is what I did all morning at the El Morro Motel.

Bring out all of the cushions for the lounge chairs around the pool. Empty and clean all of the ashtrays between each one. Sweep around the pool area. Mix the cleaning agent in a bucket and scrub all of the tiles around the entire pool above the water’s surface. Skim the bugs and detritus off the surface of the water. Hook up the aqua vacuum and clean the bottom and walls of the pool under the water. Check the PH balance of the water in the pool and add chlorine as necessary. Clean the baby pool the same way you clean the big pool. Sweep up around the hotel in front of the rooms. Vacuum the Astroturf on the second floor outside the rooms. Empty and clean all of the ashtrays in front of every motel room. Sweep the walkways, and pick up any trash around the parking lot. Then come back at night around 7pm and bring in all of the cushions from the lounge chairs around the pool. Take out the trash cans every week. So basically Pool Boy means entire motel maintenance crew!

Around 11am I would finish and punch out. This was my favorite time of the day. I would smoke a cigarette. (Fuckin’ punk I was) Then I would go back home two blocks away. Best part was, my mom would still be at the beach with the girls. Janice would be working over at Russo’s Market, so she wouldn’t be home, and like I said, my mom wouldn’t be back to the house with little April and Gabrielle until noon. So there was only one thing to do.

Put the album Aerosmith “Rocks” on my dad’s stereo and crank that shit up and play air guitar and pretend I was in a rock band and chicks were screaming my name. It was glorious. Girls hated me in junior high because I basically looked and acted like a leper, but a boy can dream for a half hour alone in his house.

So things were looking up for me. As long as I got up every morning and went to work and behaved myself, I was in the black with my parents.

Life was good. But it was about to become wonderful…

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day at 8am & 12pm EST.
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Sun Stories: Summer – 2017 to Present – Return of the Outlaw

I’ve been working a lot lately, but the good news is our girl Summer from last season has returned to take some shifts for us. She’s our best hire to date, so I’m glad she’s finally back.

My darling Cherie has gotten a babysitter for Saturday night, so after work she’s going to jump in the car and come for a little visit. Which means we have limited time so I know certain things need to happen. This is the first Saturday I’ve had off in a while, probably almost two months. I get up, hit the shower, much-needed manscaping occurs, and I’m dressed and out the door. I didn’t make my bed this morning because later It’ll be stripped, and then made with fresh sheets for the arrival of her eminence.

I leave my place on Pine and walk north on 19th. The square in Rittenhouse is full of the usual cast of characters. Families together, children playing, dogs being walked, People chilling on the benches, friends sipping coffee and chatting. You can always find a tranquil moment in this metropolitan oasis.

First point of business is, I must go to my favorite Saturday breakfast spot, Rachael’s at 19th and Sansom. It’s been too long. I go in and of course they know my name and know what I want. I pay for my order and then go sit and one of the bar seats along the windows. I love the place because it’s small and intimate but is a classic neighborhood breakfast/lunch spot that doesn’t need to do dinner because that’s not what they are. Tasteful neon signs glow in the front window, but aren’t overbearing or obtrusive to the dining experience. You simply feel that you’ve stepped back in time, and I love that.

I love sitting in the same spot at the window whenever I go there. I read articles on my phone and look out the window and just people watch. When the weather’s nice there are plenty of lovely folks carrying on with their weekend plans.

Breakfast/brunch arrives quickly with diner like speed, but with home cooked elegance. This is a lovely repose to charge up for the coming day.  It’s all perfect just like always. (I like consistency in my life.) When I’ve had enough, I throw a few singles in the tip jar for the cooks and head out.

I get a text from our part-time employee, Summer.

“I am so hung over.”

I send her a pic of a bottle of Jameson in a bicycle water bottle holder.

“LOL! My boyfriend Jax is bringing me a breakfast sandwich.

I know she won’t bail on work because she’s tough and doesn’t shirk responsibilities like some of our other past employees. (Or maybe she’s just been luckier than they have!) She’s a young girl, in college, good grades, smart girl, but what di I do when I was 20? Cut loose and partied hard. I didn’t go to college. I went to L.A. and rocked the fuck out for a few years.

I’ve got a few things that need to happen today, but none are pressing at the moment. I light a post breakfast celebratory cig and walk north on 19th. I get to JFK Blvd., and head east to 18th street, where I know there’s an entrance to Suburban Station and I can get down there on the weekends through this portal.

I need to hit the dollar store in Suburban. The Dollar Store is a glorious fixture of this fine city. I’ll tell you why. First of all, everything is a fucking dollar! Living in this city’s really expensive. If I need a bunch of cleaning supplies for the house, and I mean everything right down to sponges, and I go to one of the major chains? Easily the bill will exceed $40 to $50 to stock your house with the stuff you need.

You go to the dollar store.

$14 bucks. Maybe $11.

I shit you not, my friends.

I used to date a Wall Street lawyer back when I lived and worked in NYC. She ALWAYS shopped at the Dollar Store. She made great money but knew better than to get fleeced by the main stream brands. We would go to the dollar store and load up! She was smart. She worked hard for her money and she intended to keep it. I learned from her.

I go in there and I’ve only come for one thing. Two bottles of laundry detergent for the salon. I know we’re nearly out and there are towels to be washed! (I forgot to pick up chocolates for Cherie) I need to travel light. I could have gotten a shit ton of stuff there today, but I don’t feel like lugging a bunch of things around on my day off.

Must conserve my energy and strength for tonight’s events.

I get to the salon and Summer is there and she looks banged up.

“You look like shit. Is that in style now?”

“Fuck you. Hey, this is my boyfriend, Jax.”

Jax is a tall, nice looking boy who stands up and shakes my hand to greet me. I like that. He has manners. He has dark curly hair and caramel skin. Summer has already told me that he’s of mixed heritage. Maybe someday if we can end racism in this country we’ll all look this good.

“How’d you get so banged up last night? Where did you guys go?”

“A few places, Xfinity Live, and then Tavern on Broad.”

“What were you drinking at the end, Summer?”

“Tequila.”

“Mmm tough one.”

“I puked when I came in here this morning.”

“But you made it in and we’re open. How come you don’t look like this bedsheet with two cigarette holes burned in it, Jax?”

“Hey!”

“Kidding Summer.  She’s so sensitive!”

“I know, man. I’m good. I guess I can hang.”

I like this kid. Doesn’t lose his shit when his girlfriend gets blackout drunk on tequila and makes sure she gets home safe. Even brings her breakfast and spends the entire day with her at the salon.

I do like this guy. He even goes across the street to Chipotle and gets them both lunch. I assure her that it’s okay for her to sit down and eat. It’s off-season and the place is dead. I’ll handle the counter. No one comes in for the half hour they dine. In a bit she’s back at the counter and I’m chilling in the waiting area chatting with Jax.

“Summer. Look up the last time I tanned.”

She does and it’s been a week. I’ve been doing so good, but I’ve slipped off the bronze god wagon. I should tan but I don’t want to be red for tonight. But the more I think about it, Cherie won’t notice my new haircut, or if my face is red or if anything has changed. Because Cherie sees the inner me. For some reason she’s attracted to me. Well… I get some of that. I do have special powers that match with hers. Despite everything going on in both of our lives, it’s a match. I love her and it’s just wonderful to be next to her. To make her laugh, spend time with her, and be intimate.

I’m a big fan of “If it’s not broken don’t fix it.” I don’t even want to tinker with this glorious train that sails down the line with elegance and stability, despite the challenges ahead on the tracks.

I decide to tan, but I’ll do it a bit later. Cherie texts me that she won’t be coming to the city until 6pm. Which in reality means, 7pm because of delays, construction, traffic, parking, and whatever else could arise on her journey to see me.

Cherie is a saint.

I head into the tanning booth for the full 9 minutes. I plug my phone into the unit and listen to my music (Greta Van Fleet – Highway Tune) while I tan. I hop out after 8 minutes and get dressed.

It’s time for me to go. I’ve got things to do and Cherie will be down here in a few hours. I bid Summer and Jax farewell, and head out into the humid afternoon sun.

 

Is it time to say so long to swiping?

While dating apps are as popular as ever, they might not be the best way to meet a potential romantic partner. That’s the takeaway from a recent survey, which found that only 8% of people polled said that they hooked up with their significant other via online dating or a dating app.

RELATED:

What was the most common way for couples to meet? Through mutual friends, according to the survey, which was conducted by market research company ReportLinker. An impressive 39% of respondents replied that they met their spouse this way—just like Prince Harry and Meghan Markle.

Meeting at work came in second place, with 15% of respondents answering that they met their significant other at the office. Next on the list was in a bar or public area (12%), through a sport/religion/hobby events (9%), family (7%), and school (6%). Just 1% of poll takers said that they met their beloved at a speed-dating event.

The poll results cast doubt on the prospect of finding lasting love online, and instead relying on friends (or your local pub) to help you find The One. When asked what they thought was the main drawback of online dating, 30% of single respondents said that potential love interests on sites and apps were “not serious” and 21% said “more lies.”

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Still, singles continue to search for a significant other digitally. Respondents who said that they were currently dating online had a profile up on an average of 2.4 websites.

The results were based on replies from 501 singles and 551 coupled-up people in the U.S. Speaking of couples, the survey also found that 6% of the people who described themselves as having a spouse were still registered on a dating website or app.

Sun Stories: Summer – 2016 to Present – Night Shift Salon Girl

“How did 4 go from Dirty to Available and none of
us even touched it?”

In the Spring around April/May it’s our busiest time of year at the tanning salon. We absolutely have to have two people working at night. It gets so busy that one person just can’t handle it.

With all of the weddings, proms, graduations, formals, and people taking vacations and getting their “base” on for the summer we get inundated with clients.

So we need to hire somebody to help us out.

Summer, was that hire. I loved little Haley from last year. I’ve written about her. (Haley – 2016 to Present – Lightning in a Bottle) She was great. A fast, efficient worker who could move the clients and stay on top of our other duties.

I wished we could have gotten her back, but she had already secured a part-time job at a restaurant in town.

Summer has been a client of ours for over 2 years. She’s been coming here to tan since she was a freshman at Temple. Achilles suggested that we approach her to work here for the busy season. To me she was just another girl who came in here and did spray and UV tanning, but I suppose Achilles saw something in her.

He finally got a hold of her and got her schedule and it was a match. Monday through Friday, 3pm to 8pm.

You know when you have that co-worker that you really like, and they leave, and then they’re replaced by that new person, that you know will never be as good as your old co-worker?

Well that’s where I was. I’m sure we’ve all been there. But here’s the thing. I love little Haley. She’s great.

But Summer? She turned out to be amazing.

When I started at the salon it took me a week to learn everything. I had to have Achilles stay with me while I worked for days. I was so nervous about what I was doing and it felt like it took me forever to master all of the jobs and tasks of the place. I’m not kidding. I’m a smart guy, but I’m sure Achilles felt like he was dealing with someone who had fetal alcohol syndrome!

Summer? Crushed the whole place in two days.

Originally, Achilles was just going to have her run around and clean beds, but on day one she was learning the system, and every aspect of the job. By the end of the week this brown-eyed blonde was selling lotions and up selling clients to the premium packages.

I was very impressed and so was Achilles. Just a brilliant hire.

Summer told me she never had a job before. She just wanted to show her parents she could earn her own money while in school. She’s a finance major at the university. She also wants to learn Chinese so she can do international finance when she graduates college. Yea, this chick is smart as a whip.

She did such an excellent job we want to get her back again after the summer break is over. When we add the fitness area, we’d also like her to work there as a trainer.

The customers like her. She’s really fast and efficient. She’s got the personality that this place needs, and she loves tanning. She’s comfortable discussing any aspect of UV or spray tanning. She sometimes likes to do the darkest bronzer on herself just to be that dark. And since she goes to Temple, she knows a lot of our clientele already. They’re her classmates.

I came in once on a Friday, and was looking forward to working with her that night. I’m coming out from the back and I see Trish instead of Summer up at the counter.

“Where’s Summer?”

“She took the night off for her birthday.”

I actually started feeling angry that I had to work with Trish instead of Summer. That’s how much I liked working with her. (She just turned 20 and took the night off to celebrate her birthday)

Sounds like the perfect employee right? Comes in early. Stays late. Good attitude. Can stay two steps ahead of what’s going on at the salon. Just a dream employee.

Apparently, she’s also a whiz in school. All A’s and B’s. She has a heavy course load but she works her ass off studying and passing her tests. She’s like the perfect kid.

Or is she?

 

I think I was working with her the first week when she told me this story.

She was out one night in the city with her friends. They all carry fake ID’s these kids now. I don’t mean those shitty laminated fake State ID’s from my generation. The stuff they have now looks like the real deal. The technology is just incredible. They pay around $80 for what looks exactly like a Pennsylvania Driver’s License. It has all of their info on it but the only thing that’s different is their date of birth. By all accounts they are 21 years of age, the legal drinking age in this state.

When I was growing up and down at the shore in New Jersey, the drinking age was 18. I think that’s fair. I really do. They have since raised it to 21, and it’s probably that number everywhere now.

What I don’t understand about this law is, you can vote, buy a gun, work in porn, and serve in our country’s military all at the age of 18. But you can’t buy a beer.

It’s bullshit!

Anyway, All of these kids have these high-tech, fake ID’s now that really look exactly like the real deal and they are all getting into bars and nightclubs to party out. I’ve seen these fake IDs. Haley had one and showed it to me last year. Looked like it had been issues by the DMV. Really good.

So Summer tells me that she and her friend were out the other night bar hopping and just doing what college girls do. After awhile they end up down at Sugarhouse Casino. Summer walks in and of course she gets carded. The security guy looks at her ID and looks at her.

“Is this ID real?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“One moment.”

He goes in the back and what we’re assuming at this point he is running it through some sort of scanner.

He comes back out flanked by two security guards and the police. They tell her the ID is a fake and that she’s under arrest.

“What?”

Now normally if kids get caught trying to use a fake ID at a bar or nightclub and they’re discovered, they are turned away and/or the ID is confiscated. But this is a casino. A state regulated organization.

Attempting entrance to a casino with a fake ID is a felony that can carry with it a large fine and jail time.

Yea. This honor student could go in the can and end up with a felonious criminal record that would ruin her chances of ever having a career in the financial industry.

That is some serious shit.

I can’t believe she’s told me this terrible tale. I feel so bad for her because I really like Summer.

So she lawyers up. I tell her to wear something nice and demure to court, and act really, really sorry for what she did. Show real remorse. (Or at least put on her best performance of pretending she’s sorry) She thinks the charges are crazy and is still acting repugnant about the whole thing but agrees with me.

Her court appearance comes up and I tell her to text me when they reach a verdict.

I’m worrying about her all day. I’m praying that they won’t throw the book at her. She’s a young girl with no priors. Not even a parking ticket. She’s a straight A student, and she didn’t even get in and buy a drink or drop a single quarter in a slot machine. She simply attempted to enter the wrong place with a fake ID. I know it’s wrong and so does she, but we’ve all done it.

The text finally comes after 2pm that afternoon.

“You were right! $200 fine and a class. No felony. No jail time!”

What a fucking relief. I’m so happy for her. I hope my favorite employee and “little outlaw” has learned her lesson. I’ll write more as things happen in her life.

 

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

Instagram: @phicklephilly    Facebook: phicklephilly