Five Songs Named After a Member of the Fairer Sex

Oh, hi...you're back. How nice of you to drop by.

I have some music for you. It's music that has, in one way or another, been inspired by a female. Or a male with a woman's name; unfortunate a situation as that would be.

If it's not already evident, I've adapted this idea from my good friend CC's post, Songs That I Like That Mention Cannonballs. Now I don't fancy myself a rip-off artist or any of that non-sense, but I'm running desperately low on original ideas at the moment. Also, CC is currently asleep on my couch, so I'll do whatever I damn well please, thank you very much (for a lovely game of fives)!

Friday roller coaster - the highest high and the lowest low

Well another one in the books. The weekend is officially over. Coming up next? The worst day of the week - Monday.

Friday was entertaining. A roller coaster ride of emotion, dignity and questionable behaviour. The day started at 8 A.M. accompanied by a minor hang over. I was awaiting the results of the biggest test of my life which were to be released at 10 A.M. The culmination of months of studying, wasted weekends and multiple choice questions were coming to an end. I waited impatiently until 10, at 10:04 I checked the website - passed. Thank goodness. Let the weekend begin!

OTIO... Picking up servers/bartenders/waitresses

First off, let me immediately say that I should be in no way writing an advice column on how to pick up serving staff, or any type of staff for that matter.

So that's why this won't be an advice column, but more of a lament with some insight.

Apartment Swap Wrap Up

Apartment Swap 2012 came to a screeching halt Monday with the boys exchanging keys over a much debated, yet thoroughly delicious Thai dinner. Banter was at an all time high as the boys conversed about the week that was. Some stories were funny, some sad; all of which contributed to the boiz gaining an appreciation for what their fellow boy must face on a day to day basis. Now that the Dusty Daley has settled we can all take a moment to reflect on the #AS2012 that was…

Apartment Swap Journal

MacLaren and Cartier Edition

Friday, January 13, 2012 1:40pm

I’m not sure what I expected to achieve from Apartment Swap 2012 (#AS2012), but blithe happiness was not high on my list of anticipated results. #AS2012 was meant as a social experiment to test the very limits of the latches. How does environment affect the latches? What are the consequences from removing a latch from a comfortable habitat into a new and potentially dangerous surrounding? These are the questions I had asked myself at the very beginning of the swap.

Apartment Swap Journal, Unwanted Visitors Edition

January 12, 2012 - Sometime in the afternoon (I'm sure neither of us really care that much)

Here I sit at the wobbly table, CC’s laptop weighing it down so heavily in my direction that I’ve considered making a pre-emptive call to the search and rescue folks. There’s nothing worse than getting buried alive under a pile of newspapers, a Scrabble board, and its accompanying scorebook filled with pathetic seven point tallies – just ask Seymour Skinner.

So I was busy manning the apartment today, minding my own business. A knock at the door. “This can only be trouble,” I thought as I trundled over to see what all the fuss was about. I opened the door to a couple scruffy looking dudes – one carrying a tool box and some weird panel of something-or-other, the second a fella that had come to the door two days prior to “fix” something (though he didn’t even know what it was until I told him – the bathroom; all of it, please). This guy hadn’t actually fixed anything two days ago, since CC was showering when he arrived. Rather than wait out the ten minutes for CC to vacate the bathroom, the man decided to stand in the kitchen for about seven minutes and subject me to his ravagingly awkward presence, then leave just moments prior to the bathroom being vacated. Oh well, I suppose I can deal with this guy one more time.

As soon as I opened the door the two men burst into the apartment as if executing a search warrant on a drug den. “Hello?” I offered. No response. These two fellas were clearly far too busy and important to exchange customary greetings. Their important standing in this world also exempted them from taking their boots off. Cool, we’re not trying to keep the place tidy or anything.

“So what is it that needs fixin’ in here?” the shorter, stockier, and stupider (not a word, I know) of the two inquired. “I thought we went over this the other day,” I pretended to say out loud. “I’ll call the people that live here and check.” This clearly wasn’t going anywhere productive. I called Henry and kcerwd to confirm what needed to be done. As I suspected, it was exactly what I had told this idiot the other day. 

By this time the second guy was in the bathroom, spilled all over the floor like my ex-wife after a night of drinking. “Alright, well the problem here is someone who didn’t know what they’re doin’ went in and welded this part here, but he did it too high, blah, blah, blah, I was dropped on my head a half-dozen times before the age of three, blah, blah, blah,” he spewed in an accusatory tone. “No, I didn’t try to weld away the water pressure issues,” my brain said to my inner ears. 

“Well, people aren’t gonna be happy with you guys; I’m gonna have to get Derek in here to shut the whole system down. No water or heat for anyone in the building for half a day, minimum.”

“Well, let’s get a bucket under that leaky faucet in the bathtub and we should have enough to cover half the building’s needs by morning,” raged the conversation taking place in my brain.

“I don’t live here. I’ll pass the message on,” I politely replied. Blank look. More browbeating over what he suspected to be a clandestine welding operation I was running out of a swapped apartment.

And so for the second time this week, they packed up and made their way out of the apartment; not before exchanging “you’re a fucking idiot” looks with me.

Sure, I’d love to have at least a modicum of water pressure coming from the tap in the bathroom sink. Having the faucet in the tub not gurgling 24 hours a day would be swell, too. Why not patch up that gaping hole in the wall that inexplicably spews cold air all day and night? These would be great upgrades to get me through the home stretch of the apartment swap; but if it means encountering these yahoos again, I’d rather just do without, thanks.

Hatefully yours,

Yeamax

Waverley and MacDonald, The First 48 Hours

Tuesday January 11th, 2011

11:14 PM - The first 48 hours have came and went and just as I'm getting to know this latchelor pad a little better, it too is getting to know me. I've finally come to believe the constant gurgling sounds are actually the fridge and not a dying cyborg, as I originally had thought. In turn, the bed, despite being the center piece of the latchelor pad, has probably guessed that it will not be made before I leave for work tomorrow, just as it has not been made the previous two mornings. Day by day, hour by hour, chez Winters becomes more like home.

The most trying part of living in a new apartment is getting used to the subtleties. As previously mentioned, the dying cyborg in CC's closet, errrrrrr his refrigerator, is a completely new noise to get used to. Especially when trying to get some shut eye, "the gurgle", as I have not so affectionately coined it, has proven to be a little trying. The pressure washer the landlord installed in place of the shower, seemingly ideal to most, is very different than the weak steam we've gotten accustomed to on Cooper Street. Although not ideal, we've gotten used to that weak stream and in doing so, have started to like it. By the time hour 168 approaches I'm sure I will begin to loathe going back to the weak stream, but I'll be happy to get away from the cyborg.

Living alone is different. I'd done it once before and hated it. This time around I enter with a more open mind but am still struggling to find things to do with my alone time. I find myself sleeping more than usual. I also find myself craving a glass of scotch. Not sure I have ever had a glass of scotch. Both of these things are uncharacteristic of me and I wonder how I came to feel this way? Are they simply the options that have become available to me with the change of apartment? Is there more to it than that? These things will no doubt become more clear as the week lingers on, but for now I wonder...

I also spend time wondering how my old roommate is doing in the latchelor he was afforded for the week. I'm sure he is enjoying some quiet time to read and be alone with his thoughts. I also imagine he has spent some time getting to know the guitars that call his latchelor apartment home. These are the certainties but I have also begun to cook up a few questions. Is he making nice with the crazy cat lady? What hidden treasures lie in Yeamax's closet that may be causing Henry Thorough grief at night? Is the crazy cat lady jammed in Yeamax's closet alongside his feelings and possibly his sexual preference? All these answers and more to be revealed when things get back to normal next week. For now, I'm just left to wonder...

I'll be back soon.

Cooper St., Round 2: The Sequel

January 11 2012, 1:38 PM

I woke up early this morning.  A terrible dream about my frigid ex-wife roused me from a fitful slumber.  She was cooing to me in the dream, and I was as confused as any person would be if they woke up in a strange bed, in a strange room, in an extremely familiar apartment.  As I shook off the cobwebs I realized that the cooing hadn't stopped. What is this woman trying to do to me?, I thought, just as it dawned on me.  It's a damn pigeon!

You see, my swanky digs for #AS2012 has provided me with a balcony, right next to the bed (that itself is difficult to notice under the Everest-sized mountain of pillows.  I myself am a pillow minimalist).  Great news for a nicotine addict like myself, but also great news for this aerodynamic egg-laying rat that likes to call this balcony home.  I prefer confrontation in my underwear–like any good latch–so I jumped out of bed and gave it one helluva fist shake.

Is an apartment swap weird?  Possibly, but I prefer to think of it as a military exercise, a metaphorical 3 AM wake-up call accompanied with a 5 mile run.  It keeps you on your toes, it keeps you fresh. It's not the why that is important here, as a matter of fact we can't even remember why we're doing this.  Rather, it is the because, because we can damn it.  Need an iron every morning? I don't.  Like to unwind with a few hours in front of the flat screen?  Too bad.  Can't go without seeing your beloved grapefruit tree for a few days?  It's tough, but... she'll be there when I get back. 

So I sleep in contention with a battalion of pillows on an otherwise gigantic mattress.  I put my toothbrush in a different pint glass when I'm finished with it.  I use a hashtag instead of a front door fob.  I drink gin instead of scotch, and gentle cooing puts me to sleep instead of refrigerator gurgling.

And I'm a better latch because of it.

Apartment Swap Journal - Cooper St. Edition

January 10, 2012, 12:25pm - Cooper St. low-rise, 3rd floor.

Soundtrack: Dead and Gone - The Black Keys

Everything is foreign to me. Fifteen pillows on my new bed. A laptop computer. Bathroom sink water pressure that likely couldn't summon the power to drown a gnat. A roommate. Bacon and eggs for breakfast. The raw kinetic potential of a $300 noise fine hanging over the apartment from this past weekend's indulgences; threatening to drop like the gavel of a bloodthirsty judge. Peach yogurt, futon sofa-beds, a flat-screen television. An Atari, two woefully incomplete copies of the Saturday Globe and Mail crossword, the "legendary" first draft of Jack Kerouac's On The Road. A record player, scores of empty beer bottles, a glass jar with $22 in it – labelled "apology jar". This may be a little weird, but I'm certainly not sorry for the position I'm in. This is my adopted life for the week. This is the apartment swap.

The swap is already imposing its will on me. My usual slumber was cut decidedly short. Late to bed and early to rise, I was; my sleep bookended by a hastily completed, Bud-Light-fueled two page assignment written for the first day back to school. I did a poor job of it. I don't care, either. I hope my professor reads that last sentence, too; if only to satisfy my own self-absorbed thirst for yet one more reader of this convoluted and depraved blog.

You see, an apartment swap can throw any lad's daily routine out of whack, no matter how mundane his life. Used to coming home after a long day, opening the fridge to pour yourself a cool glass of water? Not this time, pal, you got iced! Like your plain-yogurt-and-berries smoothie every morning for breakfast? You're a peach yogurt guy now. What's that you say? The water temperature in this new shower is more temperamental than that crusty old ex-wife of yours? Get used to it; the boys at Cooper count their blessings when the pipes spit out so much as a drop of hot water.

I think the real challenge lies in the first 24 hours of the swap. So many unanswered questions. How does your pal sleep in this bed with so damn many pillows? Are they a surrogate companion? Why peach yogurt, and not something more manly like plain or blackberry? Am I a psychologist? What an impressive selection of fragrances; I wonder if he'd notice if I... Have I moved into a girl's bedroom? Has he even read half of these books? If so, that's kinda impressive. Can this Foreman grill make toast and cook hash-browns? Better to find out. Why is my roommate still asleep? Should I eat his breakfast? What kind of weird stuff do you think Henry did in my apartment last night? I bet he already ate that can of beans I left for him. Henry loves beans. I wonder if the crazy cat lady knows she has a new neighbour? I wonder.

Apartment Swap Journal, Waverley and MacDonald

Editor's note: CC, kcerwd, Henry Thorough, and Yeamax have just begun Apartment Swap 2012. CC and Yeamax have given up their bachelor apartments to kcerwd and Henry Thorough, respectively. kcerwd and Henry Thorough have vacated their two bedroom abode to make way for CC and Yeamax. Stay tuned to Latch Out Loud for all the juicy details.

Without further ado...

First night

4:43 AM - I awake. It's cold. But what was I expecting when I checked into Chez Winters? I turn to check my phone/alarm clock and it's off. I press the power button to no avail.

I begin to wonder what has happened. Has the apartment swap disturbed the natural order of things? Have the boys ruptured the ever so delicate equilibrium of our fragile universe and in doing so, crippled society to the point that the technologies we so heavily rely on can no longer function?

Truth is, my friend's dog tried to bury my phone in the snow New Years day, that's probably why it won't turn on.

A few hours later I awake to the ominous buzzing of onlineclock.net. I eat the eggs left behind by my gracious host.

Shampoo quantity low. Water pressure very high.

Lifesavers should take care of any lingering morning breath.

I arrive at work early for the first time in 2012.

To be continued...

Songs That I Like That Mention Cannonballs

 Marbletown by Mark Knopfler.  Marky Mark just killing that acoustic git-box, I think its about coal miners trapped somewhere or something.  Great either way.

Butcher Blues by Kasabian.  Don`t know why a butcher would ever have the blues, you work with broads all day!  Excellent bass line.

Champagne Supernova by Oasis.  A (long) song about getting high and sparkling wine-fueled cosmic happenings.

Cannonball Days by Ryan Adams.  This is just a damn good song; bottoms up, cheers, baby here`s to your tears.

Cannonball by Damien Rice.  I`m not actually a huge fan of this song, but it is enjoyed by many and I had to fill out this post.

The Five Degrees of Dale

Now I'm not saying I have a personality disorder.

Cause I don't. Seriously, he doesn't. What do you know anyway?

But like anyone, I like to handle myself (who doesn't?!) in different ways depending on the situation I'm faced with. The guy you meet on a Monday morning whilst tossing the proverbial excrement by the water cooler is not going to be the same dude you bump into on a Friday night down at the ol' watering hole. A quick aside, remember the watering hole? Crazy to think that the possibility of a late night giraffe sighting consumed so many seemingly normal individuals for such an extended period of time but I digress...

As I was saying, different Dale on different days. So for those of you that interact with me on a regular basis, I have created this handy little primer I like to call, "The Five Degrees of Dale"

David

Characteristics:
Straight forward, Reliable, Honest
Can be found at:
Events involving extended family, Job Interviews, Church

This is the type of guy you'd want to introduce to your grandmother. Polite and courteous and a tad milquetoast, David is a well-mannered individual that always thinks of other people first. You'll find David makes an appearance when things get intense at work. When the going gets tough, the Dale gets David. Or something along those lines. The lads may not know this Dale, but trust me, he exists.

Dave

Characteristics:
Charming, Sharp-witted, Intelligent
Can be found at:
MacDonald Family Gatherings, Work, First Date

On the spectrum of Dale, this is the equilibrium. Always armed with a one-liner and able to get a laugh in most situations, Dave is a hit at work. "Are you always this funny," the 40 somethings often exclaim.This guy deserves full credit for my ability to hold down an excellent job that I am under no stretch of the imagination, qualified for. A hit with the ladies, Dave is able to find that delicate and somewhat elusive balance between reliable employee, jokester and sarcastic prick.

Dale

Characteristics:
Funny, Sarcastic, Bordering on Prickish
Can be found at:
Hanging with the boiz/lads, Local Bar, Crowded Bus, Sens Game

The transformation from Dave to Dale happens suddenly and often without warning. A snide somewhat inappropriate remark in a meeting, a judgmental glance on the bus, either way, you'll know him when you see him. Still a generally laid back, good guy, Dale is revered by the boiz but somewhat feared outside of his circle of friends. For the most part cordial, Dale's sarcastic tone can often be misinterpreted. It is Dale that penned this blog. He rarely appears in a work-setting but is greeted with raised eye-brows and disconcerting glances when he does. Mix this guy with booze and you have a combustible situation on your hands. See below

Daley

Characteristics:
Confident, Bold, Slightly obnoxious
Can be found at:
Out with the Boiz, At the Bar, Wiser's Box at a Sens Game

This is Dale after a few drinks. Easily recognizable thanks to the guaranteed presence of a beverage in his hand. "Are we going out," or "Sure, I'll have another" you'll hear him say. For the most part, a fun guy to be around but has a tendency to repeat himself. Will not hesitate to engage in an argument over a topic he likely knows very little about, Daley is loved by some, a nuisance to others. A real straight shooter, tells-it-like-it-is kind of lad. Not nearly as charming as he believes himself to be but exactly the kind of guy you want to have with you on a night out.


Dusty Daley

Characteristics:
Irrational, Reckless, Dimwitted
Can be found at:
Sleeping on your couch at 4 AM, Dance Floor, Downtown Toronto Tattoo Parlour

Daley's ugly cousin. I know very little about Dusty Daley. Most of what I've learned about this somewhat mythical creature is based on embarrassing photos and second hand account. This, loyal Latch Out Loud readers, is the blacked out version of myself. Fueled by an insatiable thirst for booze, Dusty Daley is for lack of a better term, a mess. A hoot to be around, he makes bad decisions and plenty of 'em. Easily influenced and extremely impressionable, DD is the life of the party, or at least thinks he is. Known to frequently misplace valuables, spend excessively, talk loudly and even execute leg wiggling/groin thrusting dance moves, this guy...this guy is tremendous! It's just a damn shame I'll never have a chance to meet him.

7 New Year’s Resolutions Actually Worth Keeping

Hello friends and welcome to 2012. Another year enters the history books and brings with it another clean slate. Most of us, myself included, have likely limped across the starting line making January 1^st, 2012 an early, yet not to be forgotten candidate for debilitating hangover of the year. Others, you know who you are, started the year without a hangover for “the first time since they were fifteen”, very noble indeed. However you celebrated the changing of the calendar, 2012 promises to be full of highs and lows, laughs, tears a few drunken texts and way too many beers.

Now I am not about to promise any of you, or myself for that matter that 2012 is going to be terribly different than its ugly cousin; 2011 – because it probably won’t be. What I will offer however is 7 New Year’s Resolutions that are both attainable and rewarding in an attempt to help all of you do what I am aiming to do in 2012 – take baby steps toward being a healthier contributing member of society(or what most people would describe as a normal human being). The only promise I am willing to make is that this blog will continue to be filled with stories (true and untrue), advice (mostly useless), incoherent ramblings and never under any circumstances, any form of an apology. Start the car...

1) Be nicer to the people in your life who deserve it, be less nice to those who don’t...

Anything for the boizzz. Always for the boizz. It’s time to start letting the people who you care about know it. This includes family, valued co-workers and of course your friends. Did one of your closest friends move to London for school? Time for a roady! One of your friends starts dating someone who you aren’t so sure about? Give the las a second chance lad! If there’s one thing 2011 has taught me it’s the value of friends. As high as that credit card bill gets the boys will always be there to drag you out for a few pops and a mulligatawny soup to push that balance a little higher – in my eyes, you can’t put a price on that.

Make the world a better place punch Justin Bieber in the face – seriously, I’ll pay you. As for the second portion of this resolution I think it’s time to trim the fat (no, not those man boobs you’ve gotten but we’ll get to that too). It’s time to start phasing out those people whom bring nothing to the table. Make that circle a little tighter and your life a little brighter. No one needs 895 Facebook friends but dang-nabbit it’s hard to delete them, best to start with real life.

2) Find a physical activity that keeps you healthy & happy...

Like running until you pass out and die? Does going down to your local dojo and getting choked unconscious give you a vicarious thrill? Do you slide down ¾’s of the ski hill on the heel edge of your snowboard but finish the run begging for more? Whatever sport/activity you enjoy, do it. I know we’d all love to lose 20 pounds before the midwinter all inclusive but that’s probably not going to happen. While you’re struggling to reach unrealistic fitness goals set one day aside to do something hard that you really enjoy. It will be worth it.

3) Take some time to improve your living space...

I was at a friend’s apartment the other day and thought to myself: “Hey this place is nice, why do I live in such a shithole”. So, on the second day of the New Year I rearranged the living room, gave the place a sweep and wipe (a swipe?) and did some “around the house” things I’d been meaning to do for some time. Although I’m not sure the new set up is any nicer or any more functional, I feel good that I got down to business and did some things I’ve wanted to do. All of this is pending roommate approval of course. I’d also like to give my Mom and step Dad a shout out for getting the boys a TV for Christmas. Hi Mom!!!!!!!

4) Make a drink your own...

I knew a girl once who would almost always order the same drink at pubs/restaurants when the setting called for a more casual drinking pace. The drink was a crown float (Strongbow with little Guinness poured on top). I only think the drink itself is ok and the girl and I have fallen decidedly out of favour but I still think having a standard drink order is very cool. This guy will be drinking Newcastle Brown Ale and/or gin and tonics with a lime in 2012 (although I think drinking doubles will stay in 2011, maybe...). See you at the Mayflower!!!

5) Do something for the less fortunate...

See that old woman struggling to get down the stairs at the mall, why not offer her a hand? Odds are she is probably a mean hearted, crusty old bitch and will tell you; “Get Away! I can do it myself!!!”. It could be however she is kind hearted, sweet and has always wanted a grandson, in which case I think she would really appreciate the help. I’m not sure I support giving the homeless change (I prefer to leave my empties by the road so at least I know they're doing some legwork to earn their coin), but why not give them the time of day when they ask? I think they appreciate not being ignored, I know I do (show me some comments people!).

6) For everyday you waste with a hangover, make another day your bitch...

No one loves closing all the windows, doors and lights in their apartment as you wait for the forehead carpenters to finish the log cabin before sun down, more than this guy. But for every day I do waste hung-over in 2012 I will endeavour to make a different day my bitch. Few things can make a man feel worth his weight more than polishing off a lengthy to do list over the course of the day. Ever woken up at 8 am on a Saturday and went to get a coffee and a newspaper? Peacefulness defined. For every day you waste begging the forehead carpenters to move their workshop from your brain to Bert's room, bend another day over and have your way with it.

7) Stop apologizing...

Without elaborating too much it has been brought to my attention that I apologize far too often. So much in fact that one friend has labelled me an “apologist”. It came to a boiling point the other day when mid apology, I began apologizing for the initial apology – have you ever read a more pathetic sentence? I plan on maintaining my reputation as a chivalrous, decently well mannered male but no apologies will I offer. Clarifying my intentions, ya, I can do that for you, but “I’m sorry” has been devalued long enough. I’m sorry folk’s; it’s just the way it has to be!

FUCK, FUCK, FUCK...down another dollar.