Blitz & Shitz - All posts tagged 'what the fuck were they thinking?'
Wednesday, April 15, 2009

What the fuck were they thinking?

It's been a long time since the What the fuck were they thinking files? were opened, but it's been worth the wait because boy oh boy, do I have an Easter treat for you. Whilst riding home on the dreaded BC Ferries-Tsawwassen-Vancouver public transit guantlet on Easter Monday, my sister Lindsay and I ended up standing in front of this on the 98B Line wondering whether Alice in Wonderland had thrown up all over the bus seats behind us:



It's like we had stumbled upon an old-timey TransLink saloon, filled with gurls from the local maison derrier whose penchant for a quick sasparilla is known to get them into no end of man trouble before they take the stage to sing bawdy showtunes about railways and the sexual appeal of stove-pipe hats.

Take one part whimsy and one part discount fabric...then mix it with socks that tie up just before they can make sweet-sweet cottony love to your knee....and voila! You get four teens venturing out of the wilds of Richmond to go book shopping in New Westminster (thank you, eavesdropping). 

Let's go in for a closer look:


Mmm...juicy.



Remember: when you find yourself staring in the mirror wondering whether accessorizing your new pink frock, lace blouse, frilly socks, and pink platforms with your grandmother's favourite costume broach might just be that extra bit too much, it probably is.

(photos by Lindsay)


Wednesday, December 24, 2008

What the fuck were they thinking?

It's been a long time since we've featured a What the fuck were they thinking? section here on Up Your Alley.

Here's a photo from the Chor Leoni performance my sister and I attended last Sunday in Vancouver. My sister and I are hoping that you can tell us which of these three fine individuals...



...has a moustache?

Tell me your thoughts: vancouvergayblog@gmail.com

 


Monday, October 27, 2008

How to get rid of hickies

Dear loyal Up Your Alley reader: I'm having a great time in Toronto. 

Wish you were here (maybe you already are). To date, my Vancouver-Ottawa-Toronto book tour has been a tour de forced entry.

Did you expect any less?

Captive audiences, microphones, penis jokes about the microphones, lit-crazy groupies...

and then I woke up this morning to this in my vancouvergayblog@gmail.com account:

 
Whoa. I mean, WHOA! Let's start with the obvious: that's a big hickey. Here's the content from the email:
 
I have an epic hickey because I was too into my bf at the time to notice. The gay is strong with you, Sean. How can I get rid of this?
 
Dear reader, the gay is strong with me and I have both gay, Ben Gay and non-gay solutions for your problem. Try one or all of the following:
 
1) Apply Ben Gay (obviously).
 
2) In the future, do not let men or women give you hickeys. Your neck looks old enough to know better. You should know better too.
 
3) When you walk into the bathroom and realize a toilet plunger just made mad love to your neck, immediately apply ice.
 
4) Wear a turtleneck, sweater, make-up or all of the above. Hell, wear a beret too, just because you can.
 
5) Gently rub and massage the area - other parts of your body enjoy surface stimulation, so does your new hickey.
 
(and lastly, from howtogetridofstuff.com) 
 
6) Use any tubular object with a domed end (significant pause), apply steady pressure over the hickey and twist. It will hurt, but it will hurt good.
 
Sounds like a second date to me - make sure you follow cure #2 this time.
 

Wednesday, September 3, 2008

Man cleavage

 

Well, well, well...dear reader, you're in for a *treat* today. If you think that Tuesday Hotness is the best day of the week here on RUYA (and if you don't think that already, start thinking it now...or else) ...

Jesus I was going somewhere with that sentence and got sidetracked by making unsubstantiated sexy threats to your well-being. Let's face it. I'm just not myself today. Why all the flusterpation and general disconfrabulated sense of self?

After sorting through my vancouvergayblog@gmail.com email account, I stumbled across a shocker. It's like I've been to some netherworld where jeans and jockstraps have had "relations" in a the back of leatherbar and failure to use protection resulted in a hideous bastard child we all have dreamt of, yet few have seen to believe:

Is it a jockstrap? Is it a pair of jeans?

I will not lie to you, dear reader. I have heard whispers of such pants. Gay whispers...A dependable (though often boring) source out in Yaletown has confirmed that these are actually a strapless thong-jeans hybrid (sounds crazy, but it must be true if the Yalies say it's so), which would make the above pair of whatevertheyare a pair of Theans. Try saying this sentence outloud: "Hey, guy, I like your Theans." Doesn't get much gayer than that, now does it?

This photo was sent to me by a loyal RUYA reader that I affectionately refer to as "Victoria Armanda" (who is getting married next weekend) and she requests that everyone visits the full website at www.rufskin.com. She writes: "How does one sit properly and not stick to the chair?"

These are the kinds of questions that drive even the strongest of men...and women...mad. Do not dwell on this, Victoria Armanda. DO NOT! Despite all my advanced gayness and predisposition for scantily clad posteriers, not even I can predict what may happen to you if you continue down this path. Stop now, before you end up like this:
(for the love of god and baby jesus, look at what he's doing to the actor that plays Puppy #2)

 


Thursday, August 28, 2008

The Lion, the Witch and the Whoredrobe....

 

Before eternal winter set in upon the land of Narnia, I imagine the following gentleman caller enjoyed long midnight dances, sexy hunting parties, feasting, and treasure trail seeking.

His many likes include lampposts, fauns, nymphs, dryads, Red Dwarfs, wayward British children disguised as messiahs, and talking animals, especially Mr. and Mrs. Beaver.

His dislikes include Turkish Delight, long walks through the snowy forest, anal fisting and being turned into stone.
Don't let his come-hither smile and whimsical dress fool you. It is Mr. Tumnus in a disguise. In a shocking role reversal, he has left Narnia for the red-carpet pleasures of MTV. I, for one, don't want anything to do with him. Back into the closet..er, "wardobe"...with you foul he-beast.

 


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