Wanted: An apartment in downtown Toronto. Please.

Dear Toronto Landlords and Landladies,

My name is Alex and I’m a looking for an apartment in downtown Toronto. In fact, I’m moving to your fine city tomorrow around noon. I’m moving from Ottawa – Canada’s capital. Maybe you’ve heard of it. It’s nice, but not Toronto-nice. That’s why I’m moving.

I don’t even have a place arranged to sleep tomorrow night. What I do have is a collection of very generous friends who have offered a collection of very uncomfortable pieces of furniture (or floor) for me to sleep on.

In any case, I obviously need somewhere to live in this mythical city you call The Big Smoke. And I’d rather not sleep on my pal Boris’s floor for the next month and a half – both for the sake of my back and for the fact that I hate to impose to such an extent.

And so I’ve come up with this outlandish idea of finding my own apartment to live in. Crazy, I know, but stay with me here.

I started my apartment search on July 25 – nearly two full months ago. You might think it’s weird that I remember the exact day…I think it’s weird that you care. Let’s agree to disagree. Anyways, the enduring point that you should take away from this paragraph is that I’ve been apartment hunting for nearly two full months. TWO MONTHS. I’m not looking to buy a house here folks. I’m looking for an apartment. Bachelor or one bedroom. I don’t care. I just want something.

Sure, I have a few other stipulations. It must be downtown, and ideally it should be within 15 minutes walking distance of the Bloor line between Lansdowne and Castle Frank. I’d prefer not to co-habit with bedbugs. I’d appreciate if my prospective landlord didn’t buy drugs off one of his tenans while I waited to see his apartment. I’d rather not be offered a “bachelor” apartment that is actually an unequipped room in a flophouse filled with drug-addled miscreants…for the low, low price of $800. I want an apartment that I can stand up fully straight in without hitting my head. And no, I don’t want to live in your wretched basement apartment. (And yes, I can tell it’s a basement even if you don’t say so in the listing. Those paneled florescent lights and the single, one square foot window are dead giveaways. Go try to make easy money somewhere else.) Outrageous demands? Not really. A little constraining, sure. But I don’t feel like I’m asking too much.

Should it really be this hard to find a place downtown? Isn’t this the city that continuously makes national headlines for having an overbuilt condo market? Are the owners of these units just letting them sit vacant while they laugh at nondescript nobodies like myself who vent their unending frustrations to the cavernous wasteland that is the Internet? Is the city of Toronto collectively pulling a fast one on me? Is it personal? I don’t get it. Just rent me a *%$@!#*&@ apartment already. Christ almighty.

Would it help if I offered some incentive (even if that is your – the landlord’s – job?) How about I tell you that I have six months in cold hard cash worth of deposit waiting to inject into your favourite bank account? How about I tell you that I have a credit check ready and waiting to be examined by you or your favourite personal assistant (my credit is perfect, in case you’re wondering)? How about I tell you that I’ve even typed up a cover letter for my rental applications, as if I was applying for a job or an Ivy League business school? I’m not – I’m just looking for a godforsaken place to live – but I’ve done it anyways. How about I tell you that I don’t smoke? How about I tell you that I don’t own a pet, and would never, ever think of getting one? Do you want me to sign a decade long lease? What do you want?

As far as I can tell, the only way to get a decent apartment in this city is to sit at your computer and refresh Craigslist, View It, Kijiji, Pad Mapper and every other rental sight every eight minutes while remaining in constant communication with all of your Toronto friends and family to ensure that they are asking all of their friends and family to be on the lookout for a place for you at all hours of the day. I’ve actually done these things. I’ve even resorted to such old-school methods as looking at newspaper classifieds and biking through entire neighbourhoods to find “for rent” signs. Nothing has worked. And that, my friends, is completely and utterly fucking absurd.

I’ve come close. Two nights ago I found a great looking pad at Bloor and Ossington. I e-mailed the guy 23 minutes after it was posted, including a copy of my credit report and my references, also offering up four months rent in advance. I didn’t get an e-mail back. This morning I actually got through to a fella looking to sublet his place at Bloor and Avenue. I offered six months cash in advance this time. He was reticent, but agreed to show the place to me. I called him back shortly after to set up a time; the apartment had already been rented.

This is fucked. You people are fucked and your city is fucked. I don’t know why I’m letting you do this to me, but I am. I want to live in fucking Toronto, and I’m going to do it whether or not you give me somewhere to live. I’ve offered up just about everything short of sexual favours for an apartment. Please don’t make me go any further.

I just want an apartment. Not a drug den, or an old folks home, or a squalid basement hovel. Just something normal. Just an apartment: a-p-a-r-t…you get the point. I know we can make this happen together.

Say it with me now…Yes. We. Cangetthisguyanapartmentbeforeheloseshismindandgivesupallhopeforyourcityandthehumanrace.

Thank you and good day.

Post of the Year

Alright ladies and gentlemen, voting in the Post of the Year sweepstakes is officially underway.

If you haven't been following along over the past week (and don't try to tell me you have, because I check the page view stats semi-religiously, and the numbers have been anemic), the bloggers have each chosen a favourite post of one of their colleagues to enter the running for Post of the Year.

If you wanna check out the write-ups, you can find them right below this post. Who knows, maybe one of them will be in the running for next year's Post of the Year.

Anyways, despite a few hiccups (I'm looking at you, CC, for somehow managing to choose two posts – obviously a thinly veiled ploy to try to derail my campaign), the nomination process has completed.

The finalists are (drum roll, please)...

CC on Yeamax : The Best of the Long

Despite how strangely the first half of that title reads, it's accurate.  My job here, as the tail end of the Best of the Blog, was to take a post by our illustrious leader Hal Yeamax, the Iron Fist, and describe why it's the best. Or as I like to call it, the Best of the Long.

You see, the dusty despot of this ol' blog is a fan of the long blog.  We even call him Long Blog Larry on occasion.  And while I am sure we all love his posts (this isn't sarcasm, I love his posts), having to review an entire year of them doesn't exactly take a minute (though we all know what does, right?  Amirite?).

And by doesn't exactly take a minute, I mean it.  I had tickets for Osheaga in Montreal this past weekend and had to miss the entire fucking trip, in the name of the blog!  Anyway, the rest of the boiz would've had my head on a pole (something something joke ex-wife something something) if I hadn't had this post up by midweek, and that's the way I likes it.  So I read some posts, and read some more posts, had a quick cider and nap, and read some more.  And I had a problem: my favourite post of his was also the shortest.

Dusty Daley's Post of the Year

Hi all, Thorough here.

I’d first like to say, happy birthday to blog. Where would I be without the constant banter of the boiz and the continual comfort of blog to keep me safe and sane during the past year? I know the answer. Dead as the ex-wife. Maybe, even more dead than that, and that’s reallllllly dead.

We all know the game plan here. Pick a post. Write about it. Nominate it to our faithful and beautiful readers.

So, as luck would have it, I drew Dusty. I’d like to mention right off the bat that this is a tough one. This is a lot of responsibility to nominate one of Dusty’s posts. He’s has great banter and his posts are top notch.

Some of you would think this would be an easy task. No sir, it is not. Oh, let’s take the easy way out and just pick the infamous “The Five Degrees of Dale” and call it a day. Some of you hold the “Sundays With Morley” post close to your hearts, why not end it there? “The Boiz Within”? That’s a hell of a post! What about the witty “Evolution of a Nickname”? All of the aforementioned post are fantastic reads and it’s a tough decision... Sure, I could easily nominate any one of these posts and be done with it. But no, posts of this stature deserve attention and careful deliberation.

Post of the Year: Yeamax on kcerwd

kcerwd, my old buddy. Known the guy for years; still have a hard time trying to figure out what’s going on between his ears sometimes. And that’s not a slight. You gotta respect a guy who’s unpredictable – and I’m not talking about the unpredictable type that gets drunk and randomly picks fights with people. I'm talking about the unpredictable type that gets drunk and randomly hugs people. I’m talking about the unpredictable type that plays left field for the blog squad, and throws perfect 350 foot strikes right over home plate, nailing foolish ignoramuses that think they can score from first base on a teammate’s two-bagger. kcerwd: gold glove of the blog squad. Swings a mean bat, too (right ladies?).

An invaluable member of Latch Out Loud Enterprises, kcerwd is known for addressing the hard hitting issues that nobody else would dare touch (JoPa, anyone?). He’s also a mischievous guy in the comment section of the blog. The lion’s share of those anonymous comments? Yeah, that’s kcerwd. You can tell by his signature unnecessary apostrophes. It’s his trademark. And that trademark has got him in hot water more than once.

kcerwd on Henry Thorough: On the Issue Of: #nmb2012

“Onwards and upwards, never backwards”

 

This heady piece of advice was given to me…wait, was given to our property management group as reason #8 for us moving out of our apartment. The engineer of this advice is my friend/roommate, soon to be just friend: Henry Thorough. Now I know what you’re all thinking; “Here comes another depressed kcerwd rant about how the boizzz are moving on, things never being the same, blah blah” - go fuck yourself please! That is not what this is. Instead of pissing and moaning about what’s changing lets take a little look back at what’s the same as it was this time approximately a year ago…

 

Henry has still not “touched” the young lady described as a rocket in the paragraphs below (although geography is now his friend and it’s only a matter of time). Alex Kovalev’s aunt Beatrice still makes a mean bowl of French Onion Soup. Henry can often be found sleeping in jeans and still is not interested in hearing about your coworkers, lady! Some of us still get drunk and squander, not as much the touches of others, but a squander is a squander is a squander is a squander. It’s always a good idea to get a couple of dawgs-into-ya and most importantly, everyone STILL loves a good breakfast. Confused? Ok, ok! Story telling has never been my thing, save one epic tale of the biggest beat down that never was (LOL Season 2 friends…)... read this post from Henry Thorough and give this paragraph a re-read…

 

HBD-LOL and the Search for the Post of the Year

Editor/Iron Fist’s Note:

Happy birthday to you!

Happy birthday to you! 

Happy birthday dear Latch Out Loud!

Happy birthday to you!

In the immortal and quoted-to-death words of one Dave Chappelle/Rick James: It's a celebration bitches!!!

That’s right folks, you didn’t think we’d make it, but we did. Latch Out Loud turned one year old exactly one day ago. Sometimes I feel like the blog was born yesterday.

One year. Think of all the memories, right?

Well, that’s exactly what we’re gonna do to commemorate this special occasion. Each of the five regular bloggers has been secretly assigned to comb through one of their colleague’s posts from the past year with the task of selecting their favourite work. We’ll post the reviews over the next few days, and then (permitting that one of us can figure out how to actually do it) we’ll put up a poll on the blog, and the readers (if there are actually any of you left out there) can vote to pick the post of the year.

So without further ado, Dusty Daley is going to present his take on CC’s finest work.

(But before we get this thing officially rolling, I’d like to also wish a very Happy Birthday to my Aunt – and loyal L.O.L. reader – Carole, whose actual birthday is today. Happy birthday!)

Take it away DD!

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