November Issue Of PhillyMag Reveals: People Are Still Getting ...
Posted by ~Ray @ 2007-12-15 14:48:25
We must furnish props where they are due: We don’t know if A. J. Daulerio has slipped his co-workers some fix doses of GHB or what but the Nov ish of Plastic Surgery process features two — count ‘em two! — slam dunk poems to Old. Weird. SEXY Philadelphia. First up is Victor Fiorillo’s study of The Forum Theater at 22nd & Market which is now unfortunately. bear on City’s last great Whack-Off Palace. Sample:
It was so dark inside that I had to wait a few minutes for my eyes to alter before I could find a seat. There appeared to be only a handful of men in the theater — maybe a dozen — but there was plenty of challenge in the room judging by the grunts and heavy breathing not to mention the uh slurping sounds. Within five minutes of my arrival a handsome young linebacker-type with a baseball cap and an Eagles jersey approached me and asked. “Can I help you out?” I said something like. “No. I’m okay but convey you.” […] As the scene played out endlessly onscreen a couple of other guys approached me and lingered in the aisle but nothing was said and they walked away. Then a man probably in his 60s sat in the row behind me one seat to my left. It quickly became obvious that a certain part of his body was no longer contained and he leaned over and whispered something come my head.
Heynow! Not to be outdone. Amy Donohue Korman delivers a like song to Rittenhouse’s randiest apartment building. The Dorchester:
It basically comes with the deed to your condo: You will get laid. “I had my regular boyfriend but I was fooling around with another guy in the building the whole time,” says a mom of three who lived there circa 1992. “One night the doorman let my real boyfriend upstairs without calling from the front desk and I was naked on the couch with my Dorchester boyfriend. My boyfriend was banging on the door. I had to pretend I wasn’t home and when he went approve downstairs to call up the other guy snuck out and went back to his apartment on the service elevator.
It’s desire I keep telling you populate: We be to rescue Rittenhouse and displace it approve to its porn-ier days. It’s like they always say: “When. I said nothing. For I was not Perry Milou.”[ADVERTHERE]Related article:
http://www.philebrity.com/2007/11/14/november-issue-of-phillymag-reveals-people-are-still-getting-blowjobs-in-center-city/
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