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I'm so thinking of you this Valentine's week—all y'all, cute enough to squeeze. Like babies. Like nipples. But this time of year too can be overly sensitive (like babies, like nipples) for some amongst love's minion: the heartbroken. I don't mind heartbreak. Like getting queasy at the thought of chicken wings (WIP's Angelo Cataldi has officially ruined every aspect of my life—food too), heartbreak's natural. To be emasculated atop heartbreak? That's more embarrassing than having your diary stolen (Lindsay Lohan) and realizing your inner thoughts are as shallow as your outer ones; more than reuniting your loser band (Smashing Pumpkins, Billy Corgan) and finding out only one other bozo wants in. So even though Richie Sambora's from Jersey (Perth Amboy, damn!) I can't help but feel lousy that he heard about his divorce from Heather Locklear through an ABC radio interviewer asking about his Valentine's plans; Sambora gave a detailed answer only to hear a hardy "nu-uh." I've always felt good about not being Sambora ("No Jon, I don't feel like seeing the Soul again!"). Now I feel great. Woody Allen said (in Manhattan, in court) that the heart does what it wants. But what about what the Giant Heart wants? The one at the Franklin Institute? For its 51st birthday, Feb. 11, it wants films (Secret Cinema's Reels of Romance) and oddball space-folk up in its Fels shit with Devendra Banhart's Gnomonsong label scions Feathers, Espers and Adam Arcuragi—the latter, our Philly guy who's got some "unsuccessful pleas" to a lady on his High Two label due-March debut CD. "I'm looking forward to playing the planetarium—I love museums like fish love to swim," says Arcuragi. Anything romantic about that CD o' yours? "It's like going to church, without the religious baggage," says Arcuragi, quoting bandmate Peter Wonsowski which is like regifting which is OK when quoting but not OK while handing out V-Day presents. Nothing warms cockles like a new strip club. And while I know you Bash fans realize there's only been three of you in the North Sixth St. club's existence and that Scores of Manhattan is due to squeeze its big but firm tanning crème-d' ass into Bash's 450 address, few knew this regarding another new strip club: Columbus Ave.'s Crazy Horse Too. A little bird told me about baller Mike Piazza's financial involvement in the peel palace. How fun—he's not gay. But a li'l snooping revealed that it's his pop, Philly car dealer Vince Piazza, who owns the Horse's liquor license through one of his many companies. Now you can go back to wondering about Mike. When the Craigs-like Sexadelphia.com re-enters the adult market (look at that "male escort" douche) with a Pure party hosted by Brittany Lynn Feb 9. check the co-host: Paper Doll Ashlea Halpern. "They're trying to get me to squeeze into some rib-bruising fetish costume and give away blow-up dolls—with three love holes!—to the people who place naughty ads in the back of our paper," states Ash, who'll bring her mom for moral support. "And what's wrong with this picture?" Kerouac-y Web-log-iste Rachel "Inc." Furman wrote me to say rumors about her hosting a talk show in Colorado were false (I think she started that!) and that her living in a trailer camp were true (1975 Airstream camper). She wrote too to say that she'll return to Philly in March to re-establish the party end of Rachel Inc. (not with Bawdy Girls Leah, Reba and Jenny Balls; though once associates, they're just dear friends), as well as to run a "Rachel's Guide" about Furman's take on the city with the addition of advertisers. "I'll be more 'media source' than 'promoter,'" says Rachel. Speaking of the Bawdys, they're Pabst pinups. "There's a PBR pinup calendar and magnets of the Bawdy Girls which we'll be distributing in costume basically anywhere that carries Pabst, says Balls. Did I mention I carry PBR? In my pants? Wigger comic Danny Ozark's a little bit hip-hop and a little bit heavy metal. That's why, at his Bar Noir comedy night Feb. 13, Ozark'll host both Metal Sludge mag Sludgette of the month, Philly comedienne Gina Marie, and the after-party for Gravy Thomas' PUMA Store bash on Walnut Street with Kanye West's Chi-town protégé Rhymefest (you're not digging "Brand New"?) and DJ Brendan Bring 'Em for True Love Never Dies—that wack denim brand from PUMA kicks and Evisu jeans. Now that Tragos' Bartenders' Ball is over with ("good, until it started," said one of the disgruntled), gear up, boozers, for KitchenAid's Book and Cook's traveling every-Thursday Cocktail Classic (from Feb. 9—Moshulu, Bookbinders, Denim, etc) where Philly mixologists whip up VOX cocktails for March 7's WHYY/Taste of TBaTC bash at the Wyndham. Any DelVal families looking to slap their kids stooopid cuz they're pigs? Philadelphia Casting 'n' ABC-TV want you: Recruiters from Supernanny hit the Franklin Mills Mall from 11 a.m. to 4 p.m. Feb. 11 and at Pat's Steaks from noon to 4 p.m. Feb. 12. Check www.philacast.com. Remember I joked that EFC/Hey Day hiree Jon Hampton should take over Trocadero booking since he once booked there? Somebody sorta listened: The first EFC/Troc jawn—the holiest of unholy alliances between Joanna Pang and the man currently producing the Il Divo tour, Larry Magid—commenced quietly with the April 7 booking of comic Jim Gaffigan. Also, ex-WWDB dude Steve Martarano is at EFC doing marketing. B-day kisses not only to cocky folk-stress Jen Hess jamming good on her day at Sisters Feb. 10, and to Barry Gutin and Larry Cohen for the fourth anniversary of their tony 32º's S. Second (Feb. 10) and Atlantic City The Quarter (Feb. 17) locations. But to babies making babies amongst us: Brother Sugg's Victor Fiorillo whose missus, Suchita, had a boy (Zubin Sunderason) and to Y100rocks.com's Jim McGuinn whose wife, Christine, had a boy (Jameson Russell Martin Slusarek).