Raptors to acquire Gay; Mayor announces boycott of team

The Toronto Raptors have agreed in principle to a trade to acquire high-scoring forward Rudy Gay from the Memphis Grizzlies in exchange for veteran point guard Jose Calderon and third-year forward Ed Davis. Memphis is expected to move Calderon to a third team, possibly the Detroit Pistons, for a small forward to fill the void left by Gay’s departure. The Raptors will also acquire Grizzlies centre Hamed Haddadi in the trade.

Welcome to Habana - The B is Silent and the Silent B is Pronounced Like a V

(Ed. note:  Some of da boiz are doing the traveling thing these days, and CC wishes he was, hence the timely posting of something he should have put up years ago when he actually went to Cuba.  Also, CC wanted to pass on to Yeamax; "maybe he'll get off his ass and finally start transcribing the Ron Diaries!".  Also, he would like to apologize for his complete and utter lack of understanding of past, present and future tenses.)

Note from the actual editor:  I'm confused. Good luck, dear readers.

I stumbled out into the street, half on account of the cracked and uneven side walk, and half on account of still being half in the bag.  Awaking with what could only be described as an enjoyable foreign hangover, it had quickly been decided between me and my partner in crime that I would be the one to venture out in search of water.  I wanted to smoke a cigarette anyway, and being the polite guy that I am, thought best not to do so in the shared bedroom.

Texting 101

Look, we all like to text. Let’s just have that out in the open right from the start. And let’s also put it to the record that texting is pretty well the largest single waste of human existence that I can possibly think of. Regrettably, there is no fighting the rising tide of human ignorance. Try as we might, we have all resigned ourselves to squandered moments of otherwise precious time spent semi-dexterously finger blasting a touch screen.

XXXmas Potlatch - One Night Only

Oh yes.

A Homeless Man Trolls Craigslist

If you read my last post, then you're aware that I've been looking for an apartment in Toronto. Well, its been two-and-a-half months and the search continues. It's actually almost funny how ridiculous it is. Almost.

According to the Toronto Star, the vacancy rate sits at 1.4 percent in this city. I can just about guarantee you that the vacancy rate for apartments that aren't over $1000, that aren't basement apartments, and that aren't embarrassingly transparent scams posted by shameless Saudi princes is much lower. Probably around 0.2 percent. Basically, if you've got a reasonably priced apartment downtown, you'd be wise to hold on to it. Or rent it to me.

Anyways, now that I've updated you on the trials and tumults in my life, let's get down to the meat of this post...

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)...