There are things one should never ever be forced to see. Even on a weekend spent in Toronto.
Especially on a Saturday morning. Even more especially on the way to the St. Lawrence Market, orgasmic land of foodie happiness.
For some things there is no excuse. None. Under any circumstances. Ever.
You know how you regularly see women in way too tight jeans and they have the camel toe thing going on? Nasty, eh?
It was worse. It was beyond nasty. It was vile.
Picture it. 10:00 am. You’re walking along the street, the sun is piercing through the fog; the weather is warm… You’re with one of your best friends and your own Mr. Jazz equivalent. Life is fine. No, life is lovely!
And then you see it…
I searched the internet high and low to find a picture that could convey the horror of the sight but, luckily perhaps, none was to be found. Your imagination will have to serve.
Picture a man. Tallish, short of non-descript. Oh so phallic CN tower reaching for the sky in the background. Short jacket and tight, tight leggings. Yes, you saw right – tight leggings, and obviously no underwear… Strutting his stuff with the jewels outlined. In 3-fuckin’-D!
Every. Damn. Detail.
The image is forever seared into my brain. And not in a good way.
Vile I tell you. There is no excuse for imposing that visual on everyone he met.
You’d figure that at least he’d be hung well enough to make the site impressive. But no. Not impressive. A tiny little slug all curled up and sleeping. And the weather was balmy. Shrinkage à la Costanza could not be invoked.
*photo of the CN Tower from Sauna.org