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Hip Sips

Posted by Mannimal in Hip Sips, Issue 2 - Full Text January 12, 2012  |  No Comments

Featuring The Rooster Coffee House 479 Broadview Avenue

By: Sofia Reive

Tucked amongst the old houses of Broadview, Rooster Coffee House sits peacefully across from Riverdale park. Large glass windows give an unrestricted view of the city skyline at sunset. With an iron rooster emblem hanging out front, the café is a true neighbourhood haunt – regulars loaf about the place as if it were their home – but at the same time, the place is distinctly “Rooster.”

“We’re all mad here,” said the Cheshire Cat; the folks at Rooster have formally taken up this mantra. Vintage luggage for coffee tables, squashy armchairs and an assortment of carvings and collectibles creates an eclectic and inviting space for adults and kids alike. Near the back, a weathered wooden table seats half a dozen comfortably. The centrepiece of choice: a tower of board games.

Attentiveness is what defines Rooster Coffee House. The owners even have doggie treats and water bowls on the patio for local pups. Every staff member is friendly and particularly gifted with espresso. Co-owners Shawn Andrews and her partner Dave, often seen chatting with customers, are committed to local products. Shawn has stocked her counters with baked goods from the neighbour down the street and Toronto’s Te Aro supplies their specialty roasts.

The space is striking, the coffee is unmatched and the people are affable. Since opening in late 2009, Rooster Coffee house has rightly earned its spot as the city’s best coffee shop.

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Gas-Strachan-omy – Issue 2

Posted by Mannimal in Gas - "Strachan" - omy, Issue 2 - Full Text January 12, 2012  |  No Comments

The dangers of dining-hall overindulgence

By: Ben Crase

The changing of the leaves in the quad marks the arrival of fall, my second favorite season. The top spot goes to summer for obvious reasons, but fall is not far behind. This is partially due to the nostalgia it induces with the return of memories of trips to Pingles Fun Farm, but more importantly due to the food and drink that comes with the harvest.

Since coming to university, the leafless trees of the quad have come to signal the ominous reality of what fall brings for students. Sadly, it has become a time of realization. For Frosh, romanticized visions of university (as depicted in American Pie) are shattered. For second years, getting better grades because “school matters now” will not undo the damage that first year did to their GPAs. For third years, it is the realization that they might need to resort to Low Table Dinners to find references. For fourth years, it’s the realization that they should have planned a fall-back in case they don’t get into Med school.

With burdens such as these weighing on everyone’s shoulders, the midterm season can seem very daunting. To help ease the coming stress, it is important to use food and friends as pillars of emotional stability. I therefore urge everyone to take full advantage of the holiest of holies: Strachan Hall. Some may see this claim as a sign that I have already gone off the deep end, but it’s important to step back and see what the true role the dining hall plays.

Unlike every other “student space” at Trin, the dining hall is one of the only places where you can hang out and have a good time without getting noise complaints or, heaven forbid, the death stare from Stephen Stitch while he studies in the JCR. I would argue that Strachan is much more than a simple dining hall. Indeed, It is a humanitarian sanctuary where the guilt felt for wasting time in non-academic endeavors does not apply because, hey, we all gotta eat.

But be weary. Strachan is not immune to the rule that too much of a good thing can be…well, bad. One can easily overindulge in his or her love of wasting away hours at meals. Evidence of this can be seen among the upper year campers who are often mistaken for being permanent table fixtures. If you are asking yourself whether you have crossed this line, perform the following test: count how many hours of class you have a week, then tally the hours you spend at meals. If you spend more time at meals than in class, you might have a problem.

Some – who I call ‘PQBers’ – have managed to avoid the dining hall’s black hole effect. This practice is best seen in the routine of its founder, Patrick Quinton-Brown, who enters dinner late (therefore avoiding heavy traffic), eats, has two meaningful conversations and then leaves twenty minutes after his arrival.

I admit it: I look at PQBers with envy. After calculating my own hours spent at meals, I am a confirmed camper, which is evident in both my waistline and workload. If you are like me, and willingly accept defeat, you should at least plan accordingly. Personally, I have begun experimenting with “stumunching” (doing work while eating). I am also testing tray-less grazing. Most campers end up continually eating while in Strachan. So, to limit how much you are eating, do not take a tray. This will force you to carry only one dish at a time, thereby curbing what may otherwise become a pile of snackables. As you accumulate dishes, you can always place them on the trays of the people around you who are sensible enough to leave in a timely manner.

Frosh, if you have yet to lose yourself in Strachan, accept this as a warning of the inevitable.· · ·

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Strachan-cipes

Emily’s Mashed Banana (Bad Version)

Ingredients: Super unripe Banana (“makes it sweeter”) Brown sugar Lots of cinnamon

Equipment: Fork Bowl

Mash Banana so all the chunks are gone. Add brown sugar and cinnamon. Stir until completely incorporated. Enjoy!

Ben’s Mashed Banana (Good Version)

Ingredients: Super ripe Banana (which is actually sweet and doesn’t taste starchy like a green banana) No Brown sugar (you can put it in if you really want to, but using a ripe banana eliminates the need for adding more sugar, therefore keeping it healthy) Lots of cinnamon Milk or soy milk Equipment:

Fork Bowl Microwave

Mash banana in bowl until hand is sore. Add cinnamon and milk. Stir. Microwave until hot (don’t worry if it expands outside of bowl in process). Enjoy!

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Gowning In Style

Posted by Mannimal in Fashion, Issue 2 - Full Text January 12, 2012  |  No Comments

Turn that gown upside down: why being poured-out is ‘in’

By: Natalya Odorico

“What college do you go to?” “Trin.” “Do you guys really have to wear those gowns around?” “Yup. Pure Harry Potter steeze.” “…” “Style with ease…”

Gowns are an integral part of Trinity College’s community and traditional history. They mark an individual’s belonging to the college and to the greater Trinity community. Much excitement surrounds owning a gown and being ‘gowned in,’ but being poured out is of most significance.

Being poured out is “a sign of status,” third year Alex Mann explains. Personally, I was initially quite frightened by this vicious process. My reason couldn’t help me understand why anyone would want to purchase something only to have it destroyed – but I soon remembered that brand new Free People ‘well- worn and torn’ tee I had just purchased.

While I never owned a gown myself, renting them from the porter was always an enjoyable experience. Not only are they cosy, but you can sneak so much food out of Strachan with one on! I am still trying to understand those that wear trendy outfits beneath the polyester sacks, though. I mean, since day one I have been entertaining the idea of going to a high table dinner wearing nothing underneath…

Post-Fashion Week, I can’t seem to get the statements “What a timeless piece!” and “How seasonless- ly classic!” out of my head; how applicable these are to the Trinity gown. Gowns are the quintessential Trin identifier. Being poured out takes this one step further, and is an honor that acknowledges those in high college positions or who are particularly dedicated to Trin’s student community. Indeed, poured-out gowns are an extension of a Trin student’s personality. While the gown is a uniform in concept, it also provides the opportunity for students to display their own unique style.

**PHOTO CAPTIONS**

Anthony Botelho’s cape celebrates Trinity’s tradition and history apologetically. Unfussy, comfy, and slightly brooding – this look is classic.

The ultimate gentleman’s gown: a vest. This sleek black vest is both sexy and conservative, both James Franco and Tony Montana. Lined beautifully with a red silk interior and ornately trimmed with detailed ribbon – Alex Mann’s vest is too GQ.

The stated inspiration of the sash has long been a principle way of altering a poured out gown. Decadent and simple, it displays the conversation between tailored precision and what was once volume on volume on volume of black material. Victoria Hoffman’s leopard-print lining only adds more sex-factor.

Flexing her fancies, Kiga’s adjustment to the Trinity gown appeals to Victorian and fantasy wardrobing. What seeps through this look is elegance and femininity. An extremely laudable creation especially knowing that this was initially a very sack-like piece of … sack.

Bryn Orth-Lashley’s magical number brings ‘Hogwarts Chic’ to a new level. It’s unique look combined with its innate Trin-ness leaves viewers confunded and impressed. Skillfully transfigured and charminglydecorated, this gown is a product of true tailoring wizardry.

VIEW IMAGES FOR THIS ARTICLE HERE

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Letter from the Editors

Posted by Mannimal in Issue 2 - Full Text, Letters From The Editor January 12, 2012  |  No Comments

Dearest Men and Women of College,

A couple of months into our third year, we find ourselves more confused than ever. In first year, everything was new and unadultered. Second year was merely a careless hangover from first year (see: Facebook albums). But third year is an enigma that we’re still trying to figure out: you could say that we’re having mid-university crises.

It’s not just us, though, who are experiencing middle-ground schlumps. Students and profs alike are drowning in mid-term mayhem. Storefronts are stuck in inter-holiday confusion. Hell, even the weather is lost, flip-flopping between seasons until our noses just can’t bleed anymore.

When we were scrambling for a theme for this issue, we could think of nothing more fitting than highlights late-fall limbo. We hope the content reminds you all that when you’re in between- bewilderment, it’s possible to throw yourselves over the final hurdle and have that “HAAAGGHHH” moment. Instead of calling it the “HAGH” issue, though, we decided to go with the more linguistically- pleasing “Mid.”

Kill those essays. Crush those tests. And procrastinate with a Salterrae, Robin and Vic

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Condom Conundrum

Posted by Mannimal in Contributions, Issue 2 - Full Text January 12, 2012  |  No Comments

EFUT Exec members offer their view on the club’s recent kerfuffle

By: Andrew Zikic and Mathieu Sasseville

Earlier this year, the U of T French Club, EFUT, banged heads with the University’s French Department. Over what? Condoms. Yes, those latex barrier devices that prevent us from unwanted consequences were used as part of EFUT’s latest promotional campaign. When making announcements to French classes, EFUT gave out condoms ensconced in a red cardboard wrapper. The packages were decorated with red lips on the outside and when opened, displayed the club’s event information with a cartoon and a coupon for EFUT’s club night. The French Department, however, did not find these cleverly crafted packages amusing. This is in contrast to the student body, who responded to the promotional campaign by increasing EFUT’s membership by 25%.

I recently joined EFUT as Trinity director and had a first-hand experience of the ordeal. It started out as a normal year for EFUT. We visited French classes around U of T to promote the club, informing students about our events, which include free tutoring and pub and club nights. With the hopes of encouraging all students with a love of wine, cheese, baguettes and berets to become involved, we distributed some promotional material: this year it included condoms. After three days of successful announcements, with positive feedback from students and instructors alike, the Chair of the French Department, Jeffery Steele, contacted EFUT. He warned that students had expressed discomfort with the condom distribution and instructed EFUT to cease classroom presentations immediately.

It must be said that EFUT’s relationship with the French Department has not been entirely smooth in the past. Although individual faculty members routinely applaud and encourage EFUT (notably for the daily free tutoring sessions), the administration does not support EFUT in any way and interactions between the two groups are minimal. In a show of tongue-in-cheek generosity, EFUT donated a wheel of ‘mildly smelly’ English Stilton cheese to the French Department office door on a Friday night after the incident. The cheese was later donated by the Department to a shelter for victims of domestic violence.

Nevertheless, EFUT complied with Prof. Steele’s demands. However, being somewhat puzzled by the atypical response, EFUT decided to investigate the matter further. We had, in fact, not received a single complaint, and internal polls showed support for our condom distribution to be just shy of 100%. A request to the French Department to share the record of these alleged complaints went unanswered, and a Freedom of Information and Privacy Act information request similarly produced no results. A few days later, Prof. Steele changed the nature of his complaint, characterizing the issue as one of diversity and equity rather than the result of student discomfort.

EFUT prides itself on its inclusiveness and commitment to students’ best interests. As such, EFUT executives approached representatives and executives of campus associations, offices and groups best representing the groups whose equity our campaign had allegedly “given no consideration to,” in the words of Prof. Steele. Not one group agreed with the Department’s statement.

This raises an interesting question: if EFUT’s promotional efforts (which, incidentally, never explicitly mentioned the condoms—they were always left in the room for students to pick up at their leisure) indeed violated equity and offended certain groups, what is there to be said of sexual education and awareness efforts throughout the University? Byextension, they would be grievously offensive, and groups such as the Sexual Education Centre would be in constant violation of equity and diversity principles.

Although the issue remains to be resolved, further explanations from the French Department will not be pursued. EFUT has decided to take an optimistic approach to the situation. Members and executives continue to be supportive of our innovative promotional choices. EFUT is still the largest and most active club at the University, attracting close to 200 people at its last club night. Thus, the condom conundrum will be pushed aside and may remain this way until next September when EFUT hopes to return to French classes. The question is, will EFUT be entering classrooms ‘unprotected’?

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Duranswers

Posted by Mannimal in Duranswers, Issue 2 - Full Text January 12, 2012  |  No Comments

The cat is out of the bag, but Lucas Durand says that the kitten is in the mitten.

By: ‘Lucat’

Gender Neutral Members of College, I am returned from what I gather was a sabbatical of the tequila variety. Before you read on, I advise you to ascertain the location of the nearest liquor- providing establishment (your fridge). Go to there. Obtain liquors of the third kind. Consume.

Guru Chieftain Lucat, I awoke this morning confused. The walls were spinning less than normal. I left my room before dusk and stumbled into what I can only gather to be a room where students congregate and subvert themselves to the will of some old man.

Is Frosh Week over? First Day Sober

Dear First Day Sober, Blunt truth: things are going to be a little bit scary for a while. The amount that you drank in the first day of Frosh Week upset the subtle balance holding together the space/time continuum. Keep your chin up and your profile low. The code word is pancreas.

Best Regards, Lucat ze kitteh

Dear Lucat, strong strong Lucat, I can’t take it anymore. All these people just fucking stand in the quad fucking smoking all the time. Why?! I’m trying to quit! But there’s smoke billowing everywhere. Please help me.

I beg of you, Coughing in Body

Dear Coughing in Body, There’s no escape.

Sincerely, Lucat

Dear Kitty, Living in Owen is lonely, except for my cookies! I dedicate every Sunday afternoon to baking cookies: oatmeal, bran, raisin and, teehee, chocolate chip! Word is you are a culinary genius! Like, wow!

What’s your secret? Lonely Baker

Dear Lonely Baker, My secret ingredient is love [read: “ecstasy”] and care [read: “flax”]. Pounds and pounds of love, heaps and heaps of care. But the real secret is sharing them with someone special, like a drifter or a Massey boy. If you have a roommate, why not take things to the next level? Roommates with benefits are roommates who care [read: “flax”].

Cheer up buttercup, Your friendly neighbourhood LucatDear Wisdom Personified, I have an itch I just can’t scratch. I’m not sure if I’m being rash, but … what should I do?

Make love to toasters, Itchy Frosh

Dear Itchy Frosh, I will not scratch your itch. Also, you don’t make love to a toaster, you make love with a toaster: feel the sleek chrome plated exterior, get kinky and switch it to “bagel” or, if you’re looking for something exotic, English muffin.

Trust me on this one, The Lucat

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[Eventually] Leaving on a Jet Plane

Posted by Mannimal in Alumni, Issue 2 - Full Text January 12, 2012  |  No Comments

The Almuni Column

By: Jesse Greene

Author’s note: I am writing this while on a stopover in Dallas-Fort Worth.

I really dislike stopovers between flights that are direct with Air Canada, but because AC is double the price I’m instead flying Continental or American or United and, consequently, have a stopover.

And yet despite my aversion to these layovers, they somehow remind me of university, an experience which I actually enjoyed quite a bit. If life was to be looked at as one long trip, university would be the layover – unless, of course, you’re among the 1% flying Emirates direct. For those of you to whom this holds true, you get to enjoy in-flight champagne, not a domestic beer you wouldn’t fathom ordering in a bar, and a pretty flight attendant with a soft-spoken British accent, in place of Joy, an American stewardess from Utah, who is anything but.

University, like a layover, is the midpoint of a journey. The junction. It serves as the (hopefully) temporary destination where future relationships and career options are first molded. When it comes to personal development, it is best described by Britney, in both her soulful ballad, “I’m Not a Girl, Not Yet a Woman,” and her critically acclaimed, leading role as Lucy Wagner in 2002’s Crossroads. Britney aside, this is a point where the freedom of adulthood is in conflict with the constraint of youth. Here, the credit card is both an endless money supply and a looming debt burden, and sex is a combination of love’s reward and penalty.

But university is so much more than bouts in the emergency room for alcohol poisoning and habits of (over-)wearing “comfy” pants with an elastic waist, just like a layover isn’t simply eating McNuggets in one of the terminal’s two McDonald’s. This is because each college, like each airport, has its own culture defined by its transient inhabitants.

In Guadalajara, I saw more drawn-on eyebrows and blue eye shadow than at a gay club during a drag show. Conversely, in Dallas, a man complained loudly about refs not calling offsides, and shouted that the New York Jets are the St. Louis Cardinals of football – a reference I still don’t understand. To be honest, I didn’t understand much that he was saying. However, I could appreciate his passion, especially as I saw him ever so reluctantly board his flight at Gate D28 as the game was just entering the fourth quarter.

Some sleep through the layover. Others take the time to spend money on things they wouldn’t fathom spending money on anywhere else. I imagine they ask themselves,“where else am I going to find a black ballpoint pen with my name on it?” before heading to the cash register.

“Dollarama,” I’d reply. A handful of travellers grumble with the attendants at their gate demanding to know

why the thunderstorm outside is responsible for delaying the flight departure time. Quite a few – in fact, twelve on my flight – unsuccessfully request to be upgraded to business class. Those on standby pace anxiously near the counter.

While I knew it was temporary, I made the most of my layover. For better of for worse, it was a defining part of my journey, and before I knew it, I was boarding.

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