Tag Archives: I can’t look away

Nicholas Cage Cats

… Need I say more?

You should really continue the laughs on BuzzFeed.

Sylvia “Thank-God-People-Think-This-Shit-Up” Stout

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How Inappropriate!

Why is it that every time we see a dog humping someone or something we are wildly amused? I cannot tell you how many times I have been at the dog park, accompanying my friends who have doggies, and witnessed some little (or big) go-getter attempt to get it on with a fellow, (and typically disinterested) K9.  Everyone just sort of stands there voyeuristically observing and laughing…

It’s not unlike this:

– Sylvia “Is-Going-To-Be-Late-For-Work-on-Account-of-Watching-Videos-of-Animals-Fornicating” Stout.

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Capitalism…

I asked my friend My Man McCann about what he felt I should post today. I have been running around all day like a chopped chicken, and MMM frankly saved me from hours of internet surfage and content deliberation.

It may not be Friday, but this shit is off the hook

Sneak Peak:

Syyyyyylvia!

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World War Z

In light of the recent Miami based zombie attack, I thought it important to do some research about guns and weaponry, more specifically where one eager Torontonian could purchase such things in preparation for the inevitable zombie apocalypse. These things are important; you never want to be caught with your proverbial pants around your ankles when it comes to zombies. They don’t give a sweet fanny-anny fuck if your face is organic, free-range, dolphin friendly, preservative/nitrate free etc.

Enjoy another video on The Globe and Mail Dot Com.

So after typing into Google: “where to buy guns Toronto”, this is what I came up with:

You can purchase them from Kijiji and Craiglist (of course!), but this would not be ideal if suddenly one morning you woke up to a complete shit-show zombie take over. There is a small privately owned ‘husband/wife’ outfit located at Wilson and Dufferin called, “Giovanni’s Gun Shop”. This would be the best bet probably, but they may sell out fast.  There appears to be lots of places to purchase air guns, but those are useless.

I have to say that when it comes to guns, it really sucks to live in Canada. There is no where to purchase anything easily. Who knew that one day I would curse the gun control laws of our country, those laws that at one point I so vehemently supported. Alas… There is no right or wrong, left or right, when it comes to the flesh-eating undead, just survival.

At the very least stock up on big kitchen knives, apparently you’re gonna need something.

Sylvia “Is-Ordering-Her-Machete-From-Craiglist” Stout

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The Plastic Problem

I don’t care how rich you are, or pardon me… how rich your husband is… if you have nipped, tucked, and injected enough plastic into your face to look like a carp I could fish out of the sea – I am simply not going to be able to take you seriously.

Allow me to expand: I take no issue whatsoever with plastic surgery as a concept or a general practice. In fact, I think some plastic surgeons have achieved great success in tastefully remolding the human body. If you have always wanted a nice, juicy rack because you have suffered self consciously at the hands of your AAA cup size since puberty, knock yourself out. I get it. Trust me, in the past I have even flirted with having the procedure myself.

Just look at Ashlee Simpson’s rhino and mentoplasty (nose and chin reshaping, respectively) – Not that there was anything wrong with her appearance to begin with, but I believe her beauty certainly improved with a couple of subtle and tasteful surgeries.

A little plastic surgery can go a long way, and that is my point.

What disturbs/fascinates me is when women (and men!) take it too far. If you look like you are fresh off the boat from Neptune, you’ve taken it next level, and maybe it is time to reflect upon the deeper, psychologically based reasons why you feel the need to completely PVC-ify your face. (Images below in consecutive order: Donatella Versace, Michaela Romanini, Heidi Montag, Jackie Stallone (hahaha)!!)

Here is what I believe to be a fair and relevant comparison: There is nothing at all questionable in the desire to gamble on a reasonable scale once or twice a year; to hit the strip in Vegas, Atlantic City, or Niagra (ew), and risk some of your hard earned money on a night or three of frivolous bets and fun. But there has to be a limit, no? If you are frittering away your salary or your family’s nest egg on blackjack, poker, and slots (whatever your poison may be), that’s an entirely different can of worms.

I believe that plastic surgery can be just as habit forming and addictive (big word – massive connotations, I know) as gambling.  Except the draw it that it is your face. Yes, that thing you present first and foremost to the world. That thing people look into to find out more about who you are, and what you are all about. Plastic surgery addiction is a serious matter rooted in poor self esteem and sense of self worth often linked to Body Dysmorphic Disorder (BDD) which you can read more about here. What can start out with one ‘corrective’ surgery can lead in some cases to a completely skewed conception about what it means or takes to be ‘beautiful’ in the framework of society’s preconceived ideals.

I work at a high end restaurant in the city and I have never seen so much PLASTIC in one place in my entire living, breathing life. I was serving a table the other day and I had to consciously and purposefully stop myself from gawking at this fifty-something woman, clearly trying to look like her twenty-something daughter who was sitting at the same table. I almost had to place my index finger under my chin and push closed my jaw which was damn-near resting on the tabletop. What is the longest possible amount of time you can stare at a person before it crosses the line of being rude, intrusive, or creepy? 10… 20 seconds? Whatever the standard, I surpassed it.

There are greater evils at play here though. I can’t very well only scold the player, I must also call attention to the game. Western society and culture seemingly value youth above all else. This is especially (and arguably almost exclusively) the case when it comes to women in particular. Even if it is a self-fulfilling prophecy, women tend to believe that they decrease in overall beauty, and therefore value, as they age.  Wrinkles, sagging tits, loose skin… “gross!”. Who knows, maybe I will feel the same way about myself one day. The ideals of beauty have certainly been indoctrinated into all of us to an almost inescapable degree and since a very impressionable age, after all.

Regardless, I think it is better to age naturally and with grace, because at the end of the day plastic looks like plastic; man made and unnatural. Who knows, maybe one day most humans will look like Donatella, and thus our realities will alter to fit this new “ideal” into the framework of normalcy, but in the meantime I will continue to argue vehemently that there is another way: Nature’s way and the way of genetics.

– Sylvia “Save-the-Plastic-for-the-Bags-and-Try-to-Love-What-Ya-Got” Stout

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just… don’t…

This is why I don’t tan….

BUT!!!… there’s boobies!!!

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Shirtcocking

Over brunch this morning at the Drake, while sipping our much needed Caesars and mowing our Benedicts, we discussed with great hilarity the phenomenon known as shirtcocking. I have actually experienced a shirtcocker in the flesh, unfortunately for me, many years ago while riding the very busy 501 across town. Quel sue-prise.

The streetcar was stalled at Leslie, and from my seat in the back I could hear a commotion taking place at the ‘cockpit’. (Pun most definitely intended.) A man — I want to recall him as being homeless although it is entirely possible he was just your run of the mill weirdo — was trying to pay his fare to the driver who was demanding the man exit the car immediately. “You can’t ride the streetcar like that, sir, please step off.” At first I didn’t even bother investigating; as not much is worthy of such an effort on the wretched albeit at times entertaining 501.

My attention only piqued when the man refused the driver’s demands for immediate departure, and began vehemently defending his right to ride the streetcar as he was. I could only see part of him from where I was seated so I leaned sideways in my seat and had a gander. My first thought was, “What the fuck is the hold up here, he seems fine to me.” However,  as my eyes scanned the vagrant from head to toe, I realized abruptly what the issue was. He was wearing a collared shirt, perhaps even a jacket, but that was all. No pants, no underwear, and apparently little regard for the societal requirement that at all times when in public, we wear at least one of these things, if not both. This man was getting his shirtcock on.

The thing about shirtcocking, is that is catches you off guard; startles you abruptly into looking directly at a man’s bits with little to no prior warning. Blatant public nudity would be more forgiving because at least your brain can immediately register the offense, but with shirtcocking you almost feel like the asshole with your pants caught around your ankles. I am interested to know who else would agree with this, but a penis and balls out and about without context is a bizarre and oftentimes unsettling sight.

Of course at the time I had no such name for this shirtcockery. It was Sarah who brought to our attention that the term had some early linkage to the Burning Man festival. Burning Man welcomes individuals from all walks of life, and freedom through self expression is encouraged in every form. Except one. While at Burning Man, thou shalt not shirtcock.

Seth Stevenson wrote an article about Burning Man for slate.com that you should read here. The following excerpt highlights the ardently frowned upon act of shirtcocking at the festival:

“There was, however, one form of nudity that everyone seemed to agree had no place within the Burning Man community. This is the type of nudity known as “shirtcocking.” Shirtcocking is when a man wears a top but is naked from the waist down. I have also heard this look referred to as “the toddler,” or “Porky Pigging.”

For reasons that are hard to fully explain—if you’ve witnessed the phenomenon you know this is true—shirtcocking is disquieting to the observer’s soul. Visually disturbing to an extreme degree. People at Burning Man are so averse to shirtcocking that I saw several posted signs vehemently denouncing the practice. And yet there were shirtcockers.”

So maybe the man trying to board the TTC that fateful day was neither a homeless man, nor a garden variety weirdo, but a harmless shirtcocking exile from Black Rock City.  In any case, this observer’s soul was disquieted.

Rock out with your cock… in,

Syl.

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Gary says, Welcome to the Jungle, bitches!!

Gary is a close friend of ours. His interests include crushing beers, winning eating contests, and playing shot-for-shot. He is cute’s worst enemy. So from time to time we’ll invite Gary onto the Menh as an antidote to all that kitten-and-baby crap. Your afternoon just … got … real!

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Sketchy-Ass Easter Bunnies

Happy Egg Nyte! Aside from shamelessly scarfing mass quantities of cheap, foil wrapped chocolate eggs, the only other notably exciting thing about today is the fact that the liquor store has reopened. In celebration, we have posted these pictures of uber sketchy and down-right nightmare inducing Easter Bunnies.  Pop on over to Buzzfeed to view the whole line-up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Talking Heads – Life During Wartime

This is one of my most cherished, all-time favourite pieces of live music footage. The outfits? The aerobics? David Byrne’s dance moves? The synth solos? Tina Weymouth’s bangs? So perfect.

If I was in a band and I saw this, I would probably just give up.

– Sar

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Barbie Hell

Sure, I used to make my Barbies have sex with my Ken dolls, it seemed only natural. But, but… this, well. People do some freaky-ass shit with their barbies apparently. I am intrigued and disturbed. On the one hand, I appreciate people taking their creative endeavors to the next level, and I ALWAYS admire an envelope pusher, but on the other hand, I can’t help but wonder what drives people to think this shit up?! Still I think it is worth sharing.

Check out this tumblr is you dare: Crazy Shit People Do To Their Barbies, and here are a few faves in the meantime:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Melon to melon

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“Shake” – photographs by Carli Davidson

I love these photographs. Check out more here.

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Cinnamon Challenge

For more about the Cinnamon Challenge go here.

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Die Antwoord – Umshini Wam

Here is a short video by Die Antwoord, a freaky deaky hip-hop duo from South Africa. Ninja and Yo-Landi are BFFs. Some parts of the video are NSFW.

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you shure do got a raight purdy mouth!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Check out 31 more pictures you must see before you die here!

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Breastfeeding

If you are not one of the 40,466,533 (and counting) people who have already watched this, you should become one. It’s better than a million melonssssss, even better than mangoesss!

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Silly Kitty

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7:51 Well Spent

My favourite part is in the comments:

“I have $20 says all the people in this video vote Republican.”

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