East End Man
On being shirtless in Toronto
On my recent visit to Toronto, I stayed in my old neighbourhood. All of the familiar sights and sounds brought back a lot of memories.
For the first time in seven years, I saw him, the local character my wife and I have loving referred to as the superhero East End Man.
East End Man has a few defining characteristics, some are only present in the summertime.
Old, rusted ten speed bicycle, with the handlebars turned up like bull horns
Four cans of mass produced pony piss masquerading as beer hanging from the aforementioned handlebars
Mirrored sunglasses and thinning mullet (think newly planted rice patty)
NO SHIRT! (obviously)
Cheap, thong flip flops
Cut off jean shorts, cut very short and worn without underpants. How do I know this? On more than one occasion I have seen one or more of this mans testes dangling around his bike seat. NO. I’m not looking for them. And, somehow, my eyes are always drawn to things I don’t want to see.
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