I’m working out and feeling jacked! On pace to have the body of a popsicle for the wedding. Shark fin soup alteration, GreenPeace told me to change! New owners, Bubka rants, commerical rants, smart-phone horns, vampires, Space piss (no thanks!), contact lenses are shower nightmares, and solving the weight-loss plateau!Borrow your dog’s bone and give it a teethy shake, episode 44 is here!
Holy crap, what happened??? I was supposed to record during my trip to South Carolina, then I did record when I got back, but it got stagnant and shelved! So here I am, trying again. I’m getting them shark fin orders in, I’ve got the parade-float bloats. I don’t want the drip, I want the sizzle! America’s annual health rankings at a glance. Biohacking diet: the misfits of Silicon Valley. Getting evicted, oh boy, that’ll make you stress eat. Wedding coming up, ditch the cheese cake, time to shape up. Let’s carry on!
Burp Burp!! Who’s feeling chunky??? Soak up the queen while she’s still here, it you ain’t slim: don’t shop at Zara, drying out from the booze, Ontario floods, Jackson 5 and antibiotic-resistant infections, Chernobyl mini-series, sunsceen mystery chemicals, Commercial RantZ, Sharkwater II, (we need sharks, knock it off, seriously) and Funny Fad Diets!
Recording in AMURICA next week, wish me luck, gonna jam the South in my arteries. Half-Apologies for the bad Southern Accent!
CBS officially on the move, getting evicted, bye-bye Toronto! Weight gain is back, I get real about body dysmorphia, Nuclear fallout hiding in the glaciers, radiation gonna give you the squirts in space, Trivago Guy is hammered again, Alexis Amazon records everything, Facebook is turning into a grave yard, subscriptions will suffocate us! Grab a barrel of nuclear waste and bury it, it’s time for another ep!
Five year “anniversary” of Podcast Fatboy, let’s get wrecked at a tailgate party! CBS has been sold, what now? Wake up, Jesus! It’s Easter! Let’s hide some chocolate! Cheers to the corporation that tainted the whole world’s blood with Teflon chemicals! Fitness challenge update, hockey’s almost done (what am I gonna do for summer exercise?) Curling’s for uppity hillbillies, send it back to Scotland! Nova Scotia loves organs, calling it a career? Let’s cry bees, everybody, it’s the five-year recap!
Tabloid goals, ET stinks, ‘80s mold, vitamins make you dandy, luscious sun, shoutout to the band Neon Vomit, CBS still for sale, Jeffrey Wreck, food and lighters and boomboxes, McDonalds ad review, Peleton is trying to eradicate live gyms vs janky-ass exercise bikes, change for laundry keeps us social, new fitness challenge, feel the blast with a Tushy Bidet, vegans and meaties beware: everything causes cancer, so live it up, here we go!
Hi, I’m Matt. I’m a renter. I’ve been a renter for about 15 years. (Crowd breaks into applause or crowd sighs so fucking heavily that the lights turn off).
Just like an alcoholic who attends AA for the first time, most renters (like myself) feel a certain profound degree of shame. As we approach our mid-30s and 40s, those friends who got lucky with family help or spent their 20s living at home with their parents and saving, start to slightly judge your predicament. They also enjoy blowing like a geyser of relief every once in a while, politely reminding you that they’re so happy they don’t have to “throw their money away” any longer.
Well, it’s all relative. You’re always gonna be throwing your money away in some way, whether it’s mortgage interest or condo fees or investing in renovations that don’t end up breaking even. The market also fluctuates, economies collapse and recessions are started, home valuations drop. Money will be thrown away by everyone.
If I put $12,000 away a year, which is pretty impossible for most people, it would still take me a decade just to get a down payment on some shitty, decrepit home on the outskirts of Acton, Ontario.
I currently am in a renters’ quandary that I’ve never experienced before. What we’ve known for years is finally coming into fruition; the house that we rent is for sale. My landlord died suddenly and tragically a few years ago, afflicted with the same condition that ended John Ritter, and also afflicted my abnormally resilient and invincible 88-year-old Irish grandfather.
At the time of my landlord’s death, his wife was back home in her native country building a home. It was apparent at that time that she was preparing to possibly move back there. So really, the selling of this house was inevitable. It was coming whether we liked it or not.
My landlord’s wife came back to Canada and was way over her head after my landlord died. She never had to deal with any of the tenants or properties, and now she was stuck with finding ways to sell all the properties and navigate life coping as a widow for the first time. I felt bad for her. It was overwhelming and she was pretty alone, even though she had a son who liked to store his tires in the garage (that’s about all he did). If we had any chance of keeping her from selling, I had to step up and help out.
That’s just what I did. I cut the lawn, I put out the garbage, I helped her sell some of her dead husband’s possessions and get his old, junker cars picked up and taken to the wrecker. When she needed a pallbearer at her husband’s sparsely attended funeral, I stepped up and slid his casket into the wall. I even bought his motorcycle that he got off the set of the television show CHiPs and gave it to my stepfather for Christmas. I’d say the ratio of me doing favours for our own benefit compared to doing it because I felt bad for her was about 75/25. The rental market in Toronto had gone completely mad and I was gonna do everything possible to avoid having to be thrust into it again.
My efforts got us an extra three years without her putting the house on the market. But something happened, something that is totally fair and expected and, well, fine: She met someone new. As soon as this new guy started lurking around, I knew it was only a matter of time before he started whispering in her ear, “You should sell this place, you’ll get a fortune.” I thought my landlord’s wife and I had built a rapport and even began to trust each other a bit. I was under the impression that she would tell me if she were planning on selling and not slew-footing me with the news after she already purchased a new home. Well, I guess you can tell that the latter happened.
The tenants across the hall from us decided they were ready, (with a lovely touch of family help), to buy their own home. I think this is what really kicked my landlord into gear making her ready to sell. Upon hearing my neighbours’ news that they were moving out, my partner and I became excited. Maybe we would move over there into the bigger unit or we had the opportunity to move in a friend. With my “great” relationship with the landlord’s wife, I could maybe even get her to keep the rent the same.
We decided to pass on moving over to the bigger unit, but had a friend who was living in a less-than-great one-bed. I could get him essentially the same price for the two-bed across the hall. The landlord’s wife was down with it, and I could hear in the tone of her voice that she was happy to do me a favour. We had a good thing going, after all. Then her “new man” got involved, and that’s when I started to notice something was off.
Our friend really got thrown through all the loops, and these loops came from this eager new guy in her life. Remember, at this time, I have been told nothing about her intentions to sell. Our friend had to show bank statements, give references, practically pass an interrogation. She was being so unusually thorough. I was a mix of annoyed and happy because, on one hand, I thought she trusted me a bit more than this, but on the other, she means business so she must want him as a long-term tenant.
During this time, my stepbrother was getting married. I was the best man and I had a lot on my mind relating to it, so I wanted to get our friend in, signed on a lease, so I could approach the second half of the summer with some peace of mind. I brought him up to meet the landlord’s wife, and what do you know, the new guy, a real buffoon, is sitting there in the corner. As my friend started to be interrogated by my landlord’s wife, dummy boy in the corner said something that was a complete tell: “Do you even want a lease?”
I squinted my eyes and stared at him, wondering, “What is he talking about? Why the fuck wouldn’t he wanna protect himself with a lease?” My friend got his goddamn lease, of course. Let me explain why this asshole asked such a stupid question. The landlord’s wife had already bought a new house. Two weeks after we signed our friend to a lease, she sat me down and told me. She had moving trucks there a day after that.
So after making our friend give notice at his previous apartment, getting him excited about his new home, the landlord’s wife’s new idiot wanted to try and trick him into not signing a lease, so the new owner could toss him out much easier.
I was seething. I was upset. The entire time that our friend lives at this place was going to involve countless open houses and showings put together by the landlord’s wife’s dopey real-estate agent. I have a long memory. I don’t forget and forgive easily. I wish I did. Now, I’m in survival mode, and I’m no longer feeling bad for my landlord’s wife. Well, 95/5.
Touche, though. It looks like we were both operating on the 75/25 ratio, which is pretty normal for strangers, I guess. She has every right to sell her home, whenever she wants for whatever she wants. It’s complicated to get tenants out, I know that. But she should have given me a heads up before our friend first requested to see the place and let me know that she had already purchased a house. He should have been able to make that choice if he still wanted to move in, and even prepare himself for the horrible storm that was coming.
Today, the house has been on the market for five months. It’s had one hidden price adjustment and still no buyers. The house is in bad shape, and being priced over two million with tenants on leases is a huge turn-off for the near-100 potential buyers who have peeked through the house. Squirrels live in the walls, the electricity isn’t grounded and the roofs and brick are a stone’s throw from probably collapsing. There’s also no air conditioning. I am writing this post in the “2nd bed” described in the listing which is actually a porch converted into an office, my feet freezing from the non-insulated walls and floor.
The house had been mocked on BlogTo as a “House of the week” back in September during the infancy of the listing, we’ve had one interested buyer who got a building inspection and then, upon its conclusion, DID NOT MAKE AN OFFER. That tells you something. Most people come in and treat it like they’re walking through a fun house at the Exhibition; half having fun looking at all the weird and different rooms, half terrified that it’s gonna collapse on their head and kill them.
I’ve never lived in a rental space where this has happened before. I’ve lived in five places over 15 years and have been at this one for almost seven. It really gets to you mentally. Because you know that the far majority either don’t want to keep you as a tenant or they want tenants to pay what the inflated market price is at now. I keep telling myself that the endless showings are the price you have to pay for fantastic and reasonable rent.
As soon as the landlord’s wife told me that she was selling, I got her to sign us to another year lease, which really benefits us both. If I wasn’t on a year-lease, I would feel the urge to look for a new place right now, pay the extra insane rent that we’re bound to pay in the near future, and leave her in the lurch with an empty apartment and a hit to her income. But it also hinders her, because she doesn’t want to offer us a buyout and neither do any of the potential buyers, so here we sit until September, at least.
It’s hard to be grateful, but I am. If this is the year where I have to engage in the long-honoured renters’ tradition of having to rent elsewhere, then I’m ready for it. I look forward to this chapter closing, to never having to see or hear from the landlord’s wife, her doofus boyfriend or her useless real-estate agent. I miss privacy. I hate being paranoid and having to hide valuables. But we live in a world now where people depend on making a profit on another person’s shelter, so this is the game you have to play sometimes. All I can do in the meantime is keep playing the game and leave you with this:
There are squirrels living in the walls.
Holy cannoli, two eps in the same month? Am I back, baby?? Huge health news with the revamped Canadian Food Guide has lobbyists shitting piles? Social network is good for gofundmes and horrible for everything else! Go to concerts ’cause it’s good for you, Trumpy rewards heroics with big macs, charge your vapes, it’s episode 38!
2019, we are approaching the five-year mark of the pod (minus many hiatuses). Is this year the year? Resolutions? Getting sick! Hot Toddys are bull, neti pot for life, last year of the beard, oregano oil shakes, AirPods, Hal and Joanne, can barely breathe but let’s hit our goals this year.
Holy cow, once again, I rise from the smoldering amber of this podcast and finally give a new episode with new hopes, new dreams, new experiences. Recorded this one live from Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada! I’m hiking up mountains, I’m so sore from it, it looks like I have polio when I walk, 5:2 Diet misfire, marijuana is legal, playing hockey, scarfing down Beyond Burgs, flaccid summers and jacked winters, welcome to America. Keep that FitBit on for this one, let’s go!
Well, it has been a while since I last recorded, but that doesn’t mean my journey hasn’t continued. I am looking to revamp the podcast and bring on another host so we can consistently cover a wider array of topics, you know, more chewing the fat and trying to lose it at the same time. I’ll just say, at this point in time, like many of you can relate: I’m terrified of stepping on that scale and seeing where I’m at.
Some interesting changes have happened since Episode 35: Zombie Swamp Funk, attempts at dieting were made, my house was put on the market and the Charlie Bucket Studio (CBS) has become available for public viewing and purchase! Not an easy thing, that. Being a renter in a house for sale will make you inhale a tube of Pringles under a minute flat.
As we are now in fall, hockey starts again and I nervously prepare for fun and physical torment. I pulled my hamstring four weeks ago tomorrow, sustained a strained ligament and have been hesitant to get back to full velocity. I now understand how professional athletes are somehow hesitant themselves when returning from injury. And to re-injure yourself [or the fear of] in the same way right after returning is enough to give you PTSD.
I’m miss talking to you guys about my daily strife with exercise, food, and everything else. Soon I’ll be back, and to my loyal listeners who just take it when they can get it, you are true goddamn heroes. In the meantime, monitor your tongue patches and Subway diets and I’ll be back in a jiff.
Hot new episode and I got a guest on this one. Billy Housh returns to talk nonsense and fitness and life, sumo wrestler food, stomach staples, Super Dave, E. Honda, adrenal fatigue, dope fiends, Drake, STIs and so much more. Put some raw onions on the tip of your tongue and get ready to trip with us!
Episode 34, we’re living in a world of fake weed, Don Gorske (John Lennon?) just ate his 30,000th Big Mac, I’m exercising at home, alcohol vs marijuana, abdominal pacemakers and balloon capsules to lose weight, exercise myths, plus more! Go to the dentist and check your gums for ticks!
Ep 33 hitting ten days after 32, woo-hoo! First day of spring, Boob’s being an idiot again, depressing laundromats, Rajneeshes cardio sex, 5:2 Diet, Prison Loaf diet, shitting weapons and crab mallet riots, dumb Subway diet (JARODDDDD) nicotine tongue patch and fight-the-resistance bands! Eat at least 300 calories before this one!
Ep 32, I’m nursing a hockey slash and a hangover, I’m buying ab rollers and joint rollers, justice is served for some – half order of fries and a water for others, flu shots schmoo shots, big mac sliders and grandma’s perfume take the yum away, okay??
Happy New Year! Ep 31, first of 2018. We get busy with talks about a new FitBit watch, Tide Pods challenges, chugging raw water, Douchie Doc vs Netflix Doc, Alexa on fire, losing weight, cardio feeling better, Trump health assessment too! Grab a pack of Gushers and squeeze them in your hand, press play, let’s go!
Had to retape episode 30 because I just couldn’t get through it a week ago! I’m eatin’ rhino-liver-sized chicken parm, Flynn’s turnin’ on Trump, one-lung hockey sprints, dipping my toes in tar sands, squat team, shrinks using cigarettes to compare the effects of loneliness, Alberta cowboy breakfast, buying treadmills and Jolly Green Death!
Weight is finally dropping and it only took 3.5 years to get it going! Now that’s motivation. Results are in on Doomies “Big D” vegan big mac, ask your stool if you can ever lose weight, cross-fit can kill in more ways than being crushed by a tractor tire, barely a few shower tips for battling eczema and put on a flea collar, the plague is back!
Getting my cardio back! Starting to feel some real changes in my mind and my body. UberEats Alfonso cheated, Eczema woes, boozy calories, coffee and calcium, Dotard the Orange Creamsicle. Hot and humid, let’s do this!
Weights coming up, playing hockey, cycling, North Korea and It freak me out, standing desks bad for the ticker, vegan cuisine still getting the gut kicks. Countdown to fall, let’s huff some fresh air!
Went to Halifax to get the 411 on seafood, swim with whales, eat donairs. Chomping on scallops and looking to dig out of sedentary hole of despair! Grab a shovel!
New ep, new worries, all good. I’ll teach you how to make a broken-down grilled cheese, I’ll tofu your deli meats, here come the ticks, tip your Uber driver, jade stones and Goop, here we go! Recording from Halifax next week, pizza corner baby! Happy 26th birthday, Chester (dead dog)
Hot rain, it’s July and I’m still trucking! I’m slurping Vega Proteins, I’m frolfing and kayaking and just sitting in bed having fun staring. Fitbit or FitShit? Time will tell. Raw vegans can stuff it! Get your steps in, here we go!
I am back from Maui, missing poi and Supermench beaches! Got some new goals, back at the gym, fighting spiders. Head to Doomies to try their off-menu vegan Big Mac, with special guest vegan correspondent Dan Scarfone!
Aloha, my PodFats!! I am on the beautiful island of Maui, Hawaii and we’re having the most amazing adventures! Part two I’ll do on my final day. So far IZ been great, eating poi, poke dot door, Hana hellway, fast-foods and food trucks! Mahalo!!
Maui preparation prolonged episode 21, but we’re back! Going on vacation soon, is the sitting on the beach gonna give me diabetes? Castaway recording studio, lungworm concerns, Roseanne’s coming back, Bobby from Dallas isn’t dead and it makes sense why Prince looked so fit. Next two episodes recording in Maui so get ready for some tiger-shark laughs!
Watch out! Darkman’s got text neck, couch-potato kids got weak bones, April’s pretty taxing and so are allergies, selling cars, junk food worse than SARS and cleaning the garage is cross fit! Let’s wrap up April and get ready for May (-onnaise)!
Episode 19! I got some new bike lights for some midnight rides, weed legalized soon, love handles are the new silent but deadly, milk is still out, vitamins and minerals are still in, take a double dose of turmeric, time to chew some more fat!
Another Friday night special! Cowboys and Pringles, ALS, pain meds problems, my house is haunted and fans get the advice they so desperately need!
Comb your hockey mustache, it’s episode 17! Another Friday night special, selling cars, making coffee, paint fume woes, antioxidants are berry controversial and I hate naps!
Episode 16! A tad late because Matt is trying to make room for all the Big Mac sauce he’s gonna buy. Matt’s got a new doctor, he’s recovering from a binge-y St. Paddy’s Day weekend. Flesh-eat your hearts out, here we go!
It’s the week of St. Paddy’s so Matt is jacked and ready for the parade. He has sprung out of his depression, right back into the Charlie Bucket Studio to talk about Soylent, all day breakfast, is cheese a heart killer?
Laundry is exercise! Grab a tube of Pringles and let’s get salty.
Matt’s trying work his way out of a pit of depression, or is it the mumps??? Therapy awaits! Overpriced coffee makers, binge eating. Eat bad? Blow it out! Is caffeine soon to be deemed a performance enhancing drug? Buy a house while listening to this one!
Our first guest since the reboot joins us on episode 13, and he’s calling in from San Francisco! Director/Writer/Actor Billy Housh, return guest from Yo-Yo-Diet, Ma! He gives his observances while staying in America, we figure out how to get that wall built, fat people are coming together, Nazis are getting punched! Please rate on iTunes!
Post-nasal drip, drinking water by the sip! Talk Richard Simmons, new running routines (being chased by animals), Paleo diets, get your feet off my seat, episode 12 is here! Please rate on iTunes!
Big strides this week for Matt! Some big improvements on weight, the art of the Big Mac, craft beer is on notice, celebrity trainers ain’t helping nobody and a big Maui trip coming up. Take two potassium iodide pills and have a listen to this meltdown!
In need of some twilight sedation, sore as f*** from physical exertion, Matt UberEats his way into a coma, thanks Russian Robots, thinks about getting a tube (Aspire Assist) inserted into his stomach to blow out food and rants about the clown president and road tolls.
After years of silence, Podcast Fatboy returns with the long-awaited reboot! Matt recaps the last few years and outlines the future, rants about cooking, food, exercise, dildo-shaped appliances and even (kind of) gives his take on the Bell Let’s Talk campaign.
Talking Sodium, with my dad Eric Duncan! Too much, too little. We’re figuring it out!
Talking physicals and being allergic to exercise with comedian Steph Tolev!
Comedian/filmmaker Billy Housh! We talk crazy diets and gross carney food.
With comedian Adam Cawley. Talking stinky protein powder! What’s with the obsession?
We cover all things vegan in this ep! With Andrew Gardner.
Matt journeys to Winnipeg, Manitoba to catch up with actor/comedian/musician Adam Kennedy and learn about his struggles with growing up skinny. They also tackle ways to fight colds naturally, the use of sports to forget you’re exercising, and a slew of other ridiculousness. This episode was not brought to you by Poulin Exterminations (but we wish it was).
In episode 01, Matt’s fitness journey is unveiled and he checks in with PhD. candidate/personal trainer Alex Schwartz to help set him on the right track. This episode was brought to you by Alex’s love of Pork Rinds.