Chinese Work Ethic Sunny Fong

Men's fashion carnage etcetera in all its naked glory…

Category: My Health

Crush Winebar

Got your nose.

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Classy

Nothing like a little bourbon to get the chest hairs growin’.

Also, I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. I’m not fucking Sunny Fong from Project Runway. And no, I haven’t seen it because I don’t watch television shows that aren’t all that good.

Another day in mental ward…

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Another day in the mental ward…

Stepped into the Out-patient Mental Health Crisis Unit to find this gem:

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I was this close to wearing a similar vest (but my version of a flair vest has aubergine Scottish terriers with little red bows and yellow ducks with blue eyes)… I even put it on and changed my mind because it really didn’t match my hat that day. I’m glad I didn’t wear it because it would’ve been like walking down the red carpet at the Emmy’s and seeing Brody Jenner wearing the same poncho as you. And who needs Us Magazine doing a “Who Wore It Better!?” article on me and Mrs. Swan? Just don’t need that kinda stress right now.

I am, however, trying to figure out whether this vest makes her a chink or this chink made this vest.
Questions.

Regardless, it’s fabulous. Bi-polar Vietnamese nanny chic.

I have the blues… Officially.

So part of my “rehabilitation,” involves regular visits to the hospital’s Out-patient Mental Health Crisis Unit. There’s not a lot of style happening around these parts but every so often, particularly on the subway and in the giant waiting room, I’ll catch a few gems.

I have a fascination for homeless people and old men when it comes to sartorial inspiration. So I’ve decided to stalk a few of the “crazies” that I sit next to while waiting for my appointment. I always get to the mental ward a little early to read their selection of W Magazines (for the Steven Klein pictorials) and Canadian Living (for recipes). A bonus is that crazy people rather talk to themselves and pick their scabs than read any of the magazines so I always seem to get a fresh untouched copy of GQ. I don’t mine the wait as it’s usually a pretty good time except for when Helen plays this ANNOYING portable Battleship game on the highest volume. On Wednesday, she didn’t bring her game (thank God) but instead wore a bright canary yellow rain slicker jacket that fell off one shoulder to reveal a Missoni-esque crew neck top and a string of pearls.
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She constantly asks for her appointment time and I just want to tell her: “For the 100th time, it’s at 3:15! We all know it’s at 3:15! The whole hospital knows it’s 3:15 ffs!”

I am trying to gather enough courage to look at her in her lazy eye and ask “where the hell did you find this amazing giant electric yellow anorak rain slicker coat thing?” But I think she might try to bite me or get me to play Battleship with her.

I can safely say that I’m the best dressed patient there. Winter was a bevvy of Christmas vests but I didn’t feel like they were worthy of a sketch.

More drawings to come…

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