Who’s That There

Yeah, I know I look good.

My mother don’t look bad either. I guess it runs in the family or something.

Shoes: A Guy’s Perspective

Rawbean has asked other bloggers to photograph and upload their shoe collection for the whole world to see. I know at least one other blogger has partaken in this activity, Sarebeth.

As I’ve written before, I don’t understand why women love their shoes so much. Guys don’t look down there, we look at a woman’s chest, maybe her face, and probably her butt once or twice. Ladies, we guys don’t look at yer feet.

But far be it from me not to try to have a little fun and please the ladies. I’ve taken some quick shots of my shoes.

These are my “nicer” shoes. I probably should have polished them a bit, but it’s not like I’m wearing them tomorrow. After the photographs were taken, back into the closest they went. Notice they are pretty simple and black. Thems is man shoes.

These are my work shoes. They’re meant for working. Like man work. Notice the dried mud on the beaten down running shoes and the salt stains on the steel-toed boots.

These are my red Pumas. I like them. They’re red.

Brown Pumas. Not as red as the red ones. But they go nice with a pair of khakis.

These are my regular hanging out with my friends shoes. Plain Nike running shoes.

And here’s the whole lot. So there you have it, a normal guys shoe collection.

Weekend Recap: Some Pictures

Friday

Have you ever been in one of those moods where you want to go out but don’t really have anyplace to go? I felt that way on Friday. I just didn’t want to lounge around the homestead. I made some calls but everybody else already had plans or some such shit to do. Well, those who picked up the phone anyway.

With no real direction, I just got in the car and drove. I found myself at Juice’s place. He wasn’t home but I let myself in. I played some pinball, left some graffiti and gave him my copy of the new Counting Crows album. I attempted to raid his fridge but it looked like somebody beat me to it. I’m telling you, these are the contents of his fridge on Friday night: half a stick of butter, some orange-coloured juice (probably some sort of mango concoction), a Brita jug and a part of a sausage. Not even an egg. I tell ya, that guy needed to do some food shopping.

I left his place and went food shopping for myself instead. Looking in his fridge made me realize I was running low on edible supplies. Wow, living it up on Friday night at the local Loblaws.

Shortly after I got home, Juice came by my place unannounced. Pure coincedence. He hadn’t been home and seen what I had left on his wall (he didn’t notice what I wrote until Sunday afternoon). He was in the neighbourhood and decided to spend some time with his little buddy. No, not the one in his pants, I mean me. We played some video games.

Saturday

Recently, Rawbean posted some drawing she made of a guy. I’m convinced that guy is me. Go check out her pic.

Here’s a bad photo of me taken around the time Rawbean dated her drawing:

I see some striking similarities.

Worked a bit in the afternoon. Then I had plans to go to some party downtown. It was Bob’s brother’s girlfriend’s birthday or something. “Yeah, happy birthday! I don’t remember your name!”

It was me and Bob and Boston arriving together to one of those thin three storey homes near the annex to find a room full of drunk early twenty-somethings shooting confetti guns at each other in the dark. (Fuck you Earth Hour environazi bullshit mother fucker!) This was one of those parties where at one point, a guy left the washroom, carrying one of those mini Heineken kegs, wearing rubber gloves and his pants barely staying up high enough to cover his wang. Seconds later, another guy left the washroom. Two guys in a washroom together, rubber gloves, beer, very loose fitting pants. I will let you draw your own conclusions. I didn’t ask questions because I really didn’t want answers.

I hate going to parties in those tiny little houses downtown. It’s always a dozen or more people squished into a room smaller than my bedroom. Everything gets everywhere and there is always a cat or dog running around that inevitably gets stepped on or has some booze spilled on the poor animal. I hate being in crowded places.

I could write at length about how there was no good music being played or how parties suck when you’re not drinking. But hey, I throw shitty parties too. Who am I to complain?

Sunday, a.k.a. Burger Day

Basically, I found two places in Toronto claiming to have the best burgers in Toronto. The first place: Mad Monty’s.

And their claim:

The second place: Johnny G’s

And their claim:

What I really wanted to find out was which place was boasting and which play was right. How can two restaurants in the same city both claim to have the city’s best burgers?

On Sunday, I made a day of it. Bob and the Wonder Twins joined me for an excursion of beefy proportions.

The first stop was Mad Monty’s. I ordered the banquet burger with fries. Big mistake. I should have never ordered the fries. I should have just had the burger. The fries were very good, but it was too much food when I know full well I am about to eat another burger.

The burger itself, well, the patty was a little undercooked for my liking. The cheese was a square slice and the bacon was two whole strips. The bun, sesame seed. Portions were certainly sizable. All in all, a very good burger. Definetely worth eating.

Then off to Johnny G’s. Again, I ordered the banquet burger. This time, I was given an option as to how I would like my patty cooked. I had my burger well done, as is the way I prefer my beef. The cheese was shredded instead of a square slice and the bacon was crispier. Again, this burger was very good.

A little bit more on the Johnny G’s patty. This patty was a homemade style patty. It was not a uniform shape and their was definitely some other food inside the patty, to augment the pure beef flavour. A risky move putting other foods in the patty itself. It is very easy to mess up that beefy goodness. But I enjoyed the patty none-the-less. (I couldn’t actually finish the burger. And I didn’t even touch the fries I had on the side.)

So, two burgers in one afternoon. Both claiming to be Toronto’s best. Which one was better? Bob and the Twins all chose Mad Monty’s. But I disagree. I thought the burger at Johnny G’s was better.

So, now we know what the best burger in Toronto really is. It’s the burgers at Johnny G’s (corner of Parliament and Carlton).

The Photography Post

Ever seen a shovel wrapped up for use as a Christmas present? This is what one looks like.

I got bored one day so I dug up some of my Transformers toys.

WIGSF Visits Niagara, Takes Photos

I wrote the last post in a bit of haste. So, no photos went up with the post. Now, I’m not much for photo taking but I saw something that needed to be shown to the masses. There’s some bar in Niagara Falls that thinks its mascot should be a giant penis.

You read that right, giant penis.

Next time you’re in Niagara Falls, you can join him to watch some sports.

During commercials breaks, you can try to beat him at darts. But watch out, he’s got aim. Unfortunetely, the patrons don’t, the floor in the men’s room was an awful mess.

Recommended Listening: Cocks ‘N’ Asses by Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds.

WIGSF Visits Toronto

Right now, one of my cousins (Tonio) from Italy is over here with his wife (K) on vacation. Two days ago, I took much of the work day off to show them around. There was just one little snag, they don’t know English and I don’t know Italian. Amazingly, we were able to communicate pretty well most of the day. Making jokes about my father is pretty much the same in every language.

I picked them up at my aunt’s place in Oak Ridges around 11:00AM and asked them where the want to go. Their answer “La chita!” The city. So down we went to the city.

Driving in from the west end, through the fog, my cousin spotted the CN Tower. We stopped there and went up to the observation deck. On a foggy day, you can’t see a damn thing. We could barely see the ground through the glass floor.

We had lunch in the tower then we walked upto Queen Street West to do some shopping. They both seemed rather interested in two things: 1) arts and trinkets with a first nations motif; and 2) tattoos.

While in the tattoo parlour, my cell phone rang. It was my father. He wanted to know what I was doing with my guests and whether or not they were having a good time. I said “Oh, we’re at a tattoo parlour.”

“What! Who’s getting a tattoo?” Said the man who got his tattoo only a year ago.

“Nobody Dad, they’re booked solid for the rest of the day.”

“Pheww.”

I don’t know what the big deal is. Between the two of them, they’ve got five tattoos already.

Well, that was my day in the city with my relatives. Here’s a couple of photos taken at the base of the CN Tower.

Tonio picking the nose of a buffalo. Apparently they don’t have buffalo snot in Italy.

K hanging out with a bear mountie. (How large a horse do those bear mounties have to ride?)

So It’s Come To This, Homoerotic Photography

I took these photos of this shrubbery because it was totally covered in ice. I just thought it looked neat. After I took the photos, I smashed it with a snow shovel to get the ice off.

 

This next photo is of this one icicle I found that I think looks slightly penis-like. I thought about putting on one of the neighbour kids snowmen, but I don’t want their parents accusing me of being a pervert. I am, but I don’t like being called out in public. So I just took a photo of this icy penis sans torso.

Recommended Listening: Cold As Ice by Foreigner