Lots of people consider me handsome.

Let me rephrase that, lots of WOMEN consider me handsome.

When I walk down Walnut Street, specifically the phashionable and trendy corridor between Broad and 20th Streets, I can pheel women undressing me with their eyes. I can’t miss the sudden stopping in their tracks as I pass, bodies turning to see if my going is as good as my coming. I even get the occasional wolf whistle, which is both embarrassing and titillating in public.

It's a bit embarrassing, but then again, I am The Phillie Phanatic.

(Or Gary, if you want my "Christian name.")

Seriously, I am just a simple creature of unknown origin with green phur, an elongated proboscis and a big belly. So not only am I a phreak of nature, but I could stand to lose some weight.

Plus I am not even human. I am not sure what I am! One thing I am sure of, I am quite the ladies-thing.

I don't like to brag, but I have dated my phair share of Philly hotties (or "Photties") on the social scene. Lynn Abraham and I have been known to hit the town. Ayby Baby, as I call her, and I used to enjoy a pot of Ghent mussels washed down with a few dozen glasses of Kwak at Monk’s. She’d tell me about her day prosecuting criminals and I’d make her laugh by playing with my belly. It was fun to mingle with the phans or, as Lynn called them, potential defendants.

But my real weakness is news anchors. To quote my bro John Bolaris: "The Phan loves the An!" Cecily Tynan and I dated for a phew years. We used to run along Kelly Drive together on Sunday mornings and then take in a three hour brunch at Rouge. Renee Chenault, before she was Chenault-Fattah, and I loved to hit Chinatown for some Dim Sum and then back to her condo for some “Some-Some” (she’s a great gal, love you Ray-girl!). Dorothy Krysiuk and I most recently took in Booker’s 36th Birthday Party at The Borgata in AC. (Interesting side note: Booker's gal-pal, Alycia Lane and I also dated. I took those infamous bikini shots. We’ve stayed phriends since our break-up, but it’s easy for me, I’m the one who ended it.) And then there was my years-long relationship with Diane Allen before she became a New Jersey Senator. Never has a classier woman dated a non-human creature.

I’ve also banged every Eagles cheerleader since 1998.

I assume this is all due to my sports celebrity status. After all, I am both the most recognizable and longest-running member of the Phillies organization. You may not know if Cole Hamels is going to start, but you know I’ll be on the roof of that dugout by the 3rd inning! That kind of exposure is worth its weight in "getting some."

I just wish I knew what the hell was going on. I don’t follow this “game of bases” you humans play at all! Still, me needing to know about baseball is like the Phillies 2000 season: pointless. (Larry Bowa gave me that joke.) All I have to do is run out on the phield, do my little dance and shoot t-shirts and/or hot dogs at phans. Hell, I don’t even run, I drive. And I don’t even drive, my servants drive me!

Yeah, it's good to be me.

So why am I telling you all this? Why am I bragging? Well, I’m getting old. As Frank sang: “Now the days grow short / I’m in the autumn of the year.” The green phur ain’t so green, the dancing hurts a bit longer, the tongue isn’t as straight as it used to be, if you know what I mean. I'm in the Seventh Inning Stretch of my life. I am afraid I will slip away and people will know me only for the things I've done on the phield, instead of my work off it. I like that I am well-loved by phans of all ages, but I am more than the object of your amusement. I have pheelings, desires, dreams and one hell of a sex life, dammit!

Before my buddy David (aka "The San Diego Chicken") died last year, he said this to me:
"We're a joke. Both to them and to ourselves. But we can have the last punchline."

It didn't make much sense, but I did sleep with his wife a phew months later.

Duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh! Charge!

Image Credit: Flickr user houddiggity