Holy smokes! Brought to you by the 21st anniversary of this monster failure and I go off on this deekhead, mate! I’m hitting the scale with an update, I’m working out consistently, I’ve got a canker from hell and talk remedies, what the hell is proffee, commercial grind is getting to me, Ted Cruz is no Penguin, Last Man on Earth is the funniest and the positive power of nothing matters! I had fun ranting on this one. I dedicate 62 to my South African fans and my Russian fans. Yarrrp!
Why do I keep forgetting how bad Pizza Pops are. Were they ever good? I’m working out like crazy, feeling good. I’m buying new weights. They’re in a nice case. Heavy birthday shoutouts, I chipped my tooth, Tom Brady daily routine and diet, get fatter later in life might be better, slowly deleting facebook, Marilyn Manson accusations, an update on my 2021 Big Mac count and much more. Plop a pop in the microwave and chow some lava with me!
This episode is Angelfire hot! The virus is still spreading and getting more contagious and the whites aren’t happy about it! A smoking hot day for some birthday shoutouts, tuna purists are coming for Subway and Ireland wants you to put birthday candles in the bread, tar sands rantz, weaponized spy poison, butt burn from the car seat and freaky as medical cases from 2020. Avoid any rich hippies using borax to chlorinate the pool before listening!
Happy New Year, everybody! Wow, a lot happening already in 2021. Trump is DONE. Lost my last grandfather. I’ve got some Rick Mercer hate, I’ve got my Doug Ford hash-dealin’ hate, family strife, I’ve got some hot birthday wishes for some special cats, I watched Radioactive, I got boned by Wish, I’m feeling a bit down and grumpy, I want Harold and Kumar to go to Anywhere but White Castle. Photoshop McDonalds into that storyline and I’ll watch it. This one’s a dark and delirious start, but I’m doing two a month AT LEAST. Hold me to it. Dare I finally get back on the scale next week? How much cake can I eat?
Cost: $1789.00 plus free shipping! (I’d fucking hope so!)
Okay. First question: What the hell is this?
After weeks of agonizing on Amazon over what exercise bike I should pick to replace the FB 150, this bike was never even remotely close to being in contention. But somehow, to my amazement, I stumbled upon it across the first few pages of exercise bikes. No reviews, no ratings, no questions. A cost that is too close to that of a Peloton. Its model shape and look is comparable to an under-the-desk exercise pedaller, something that you can get between $50 and $150. I was so curious as to why someone would put this into the market at such a high cost, so I submitted the usual questions to the manufacturer: “Is this a straight-up joke?” “Have you ever sold one of these? Tell us the truth.” “Seriously, what is this?”
I’ll give it one positive. It looks cool as fuck. It reminds of a measuring tape that seamstresses use. The seat looks like it’s, without a doubt, the most uncomfortable bike seat ever. Maybe it’s some kind of high grade Casper foam? It feels like something I’d have to lodge directly between my crack, balancing my anus on the thin rectangular seat as I try to avoid falling off.
You’ve gotta appreciate a classic “color” like white. In fact, the three colors it offers are neon yellow, white and black. Technically none of those are classic colors, but two are classic shades? Look, we can argue all day about whether black and white are colors or if it’s just easier to call them colors. If they included a red or blue, I wouldn’t even question it.
The model depicted above is having a great time taking selfies or face-timing her boyfriend who works at a club (fitness or dance– take your pick, you know it’s true). The only problem is she’s not showing off this cool new exercise bike. How would we ever know what was going on down below? It actually is the perfect image for this bike, as it does not hide the fact that the model (in the only image demonstrating the bike being used) doesn’t seem to give a shit about actually exercising.
“Strengthen the body design, weighing 100 kgs (aka 220 lbs).” I can’t imagine anyone over 110 pounds even attempting to use this thing. I will say, one of my other early thoughts when I first saw this was “Japan.” It seems like the perfect idea for a smaller stature’d person living in a small space.
“Silence does not disturb” sounds so meta. Silence does not disturb, so we should always be striving for any form of silence in our day-to-day lives, and in death and life and death and be free. Easy storage is the only thing we’re not being lied to about. I can just feel the disappointment from the 8-speed resistance.
Back to sound. It’s super important to me in regards to purchasing a new exercise bike. I’ve never seen a chart that quite exemplifies the level of quiet that I’m striving for. Not exactly the sound of flowering. Dear boy, that’s much too quiet. I can deal with it being as loud as the friction sound of branches (what?) You know when you cover your floor with branches and drag your socks over it to get a little sparky? That sound is fine. But if I feel like I’m in a non-shushed library or an office or even worse, an ordinary chat? I’m sending this back. A phone ringing? Or the loudest thing on earth, the car? My ears aren’t meant to bleed.
Okay, they are speaking my language with the millimeters. It’s how I like to measure most large things. Is it really fair that I’m being so critical about a bike that I haven’t purchased or tested out? Maybe. There is something really fun about this compact little bike, even if it is close to 2 grand. But I do have to give it one star because, if you buy it, congratulations. You’re one of the dumbest people on the planet. Your ideals are a mess. Money has no literal value to you. You might as well buy a knife and fork that plugs into the wall to warm your food while eating, or maybe inflatable weights that you fill up with piss after you drank lead-filled water, you know, to make those weights heavier.
In conclusion, finding the right exercise bike on Amazon is a nightmare, so make sure you’re ready to do some parkour over truly dumb and expensive innovations.
It’s the last pod of 2020, thank God. I put the mania in the wrestle on this one! I’m talking about my new exercise bike, Tom Cruise is crushing his audit cans with his thetan rants, new Celeb Birthday Shoutouts segment, anxiety is transforming into agoraphobia, too Noom or not to Noom, Chinese Flight Attendants wearing diapers, 11 min of exercise to live forever, Joe Rogan > Johnny Carson, Regans Are nasty, Proud Boys brings back frat nightmares, and a slew of thoughts and future wonders. What am I doing?? This!
As you’re reading this description, US President Donald Trump is either on a golf course or in the Oval Office, shitting his brains out into an adult diaper. Someone needs to tell Ivanka that if you smelt it, you dealt it. Stank has COVID?! Rub the lamp and release the Chip Genie! COVID isn’t the only strain you’re gonna be feeling this holiday season. Darebee.com challenge complete, highly recommend. List of the worst chips, exercise bike debacle, Godfather III and we’ve got the inside on the Celebrity Apprentice cake cutting! Here, have it!
Cost: Anywhere from $150 to $300
Well, I finally did it. I replaced my old exercise bike, the one with the faulty LCD screen and a screeching fly wheel. A bike that belongs to a company that no longer sells exercise bikes. I got tired of having to pull the batteries out after every time I used it and I started to crave something a little less space consuming, something that has really high ratings on Amazon, something that can keep me exercised and sane during this terrible pandemic. So when my mother asked what I wanted for my birthday, I directed her to the #2 exercise bike on Amazon: the Xterra FB150 Folding exercise bike.
People don’t usually write a review for something unless it’s negative. Your anger takes over and you start to feel like you owe it to your fellow consumers to warn them before purchasing such an atrocity. With Amazon, positive reviews are mainly only found with the happy customer clicking the five-star button and leaving nothing else. That’s why this Xterra model is so heavily “reviewed.” Hey, maybe there are a lot of happy FB150 fanatics. I have a friend that is very pleased with it. I passed by some negative reviews on this bike, but my will to have a new one clouded my judgement. Those negative reviews? They’re my people. Pessimistic assholes who want to buy a used Chevy Cavalier but have it run like a Porsche.
I was so confident that this was going to be my cardio savior for the next while. At least five years. Not three weeks. I told myself that the negative reviews about the resistance being limited, the pedals stripping their threads and falling off and the infamous “clunking or knocking noise” that seems to befall many FB150 owners were all a case of some lemons that may exist on the line. I should have known better than to believe one of these complaints wouldn’t land on me.
The look of it is very streamlined and tidy, something that you can put away in your closet when you’re not using it quietly in front of your TV. It has a very small flywheel (which fold-up bikes must have to be fold-up-able) and the oddest shaped seat I’ve ever seen on an exercise bike. The width is almost a foot wide at its widest part, a seat that might be well fashioned for a person with a very big butt or someone who just can’t balance on a bike that is equipped with training wheels, a real vertigoian. It’s very uncomfortable too, so you have to buy a gel seat that will canopy over this odd-shaped taint destroyer.
Look, before I get into the nitty-gritty negative parts of this bike, I will say that I do like it. I wish it worked for me. When it is quiet, it is real nice. The resistance isn’t very strong on its highest level, but it still tired me out even if I had to pedal quite a bit faster than I ever did with my old bike. There were two reasons that made me want to get rid of my old bike: One, the LCD screen drains the batteries when I’m not using it (hence me having to remove them), and it completely broke off its mount thanks to a mother-in-law’s karate chop. Two, it was getting really loud. The belt was going and the company no longer exists so I can’t get replacement parts. That’s all I want! An LCD screen in proper shape that doesn’t cost me two AA batteries per ride and a quite pedal experience.
The FB150 comes very easy to assemble. After about 10 minutes, I was on it ready for a tester. It was quiet. The LCD screen seemed to be working fine, and this new model had an ODO on it to keep track of the miles you accrue over time. I have an Apple Watch. Every time I work out, I’m able to click on the exercise I’m doing and it starts a timer and tracks your heart rate and calories as well as the time. I was excited to compare the results with my old bike that is now housed in a scrap-metal pile. After 30 minutes on the FB150, I stopped the timer and ended the workout and compared my stats. That’s when I noticed the first annoyance.
The time on the FB150 was ahead of my Apple Watch by about 3.5 minutes. This is the first negative review I ignored, “The LCD screen is highly inaccurate.”
As the FB150 only lets you count your distance in miles, it said after 30 minutes that I was at 10 miles. On my old exercise bike, which measured in kilometres, that bike would say I’d do 10 kilometres in the same amount of time. That’s a huge discrepancy. An extra 6 kilometres in the same amount of time with lower resistance? This can’t be right.
I’ll remind you that this is a cheap bike, so you can’t expect it to be working accurately. Amazon inflates the price like crazy. A friend bought it at the start of 2020 for $160 CAD, my mom got it for me at just under $200 in November. Right after that, they jacked it to $270. This bike is now $300 with tax. This bike is worth $160. Don’t pay more than that.
So I lost faith in the LCD screen. I stayed positive and said, “Ah, who cares. It’s really just supposed to motivate you anyway.” I had my Apple Watch for more accurate readings. On my old bike, I didn’t have to work as hard to burn calories. On this, I’m pedaling as if I’m trying to power my house like I’m Ed Begley Jr., who rides a bike connected to his small appliances. After about 50 miles on the odometer (or five rides), the second thing I wanted to remedy on the old bike started to happen on the new one: It got noisy.
“Clunk. Clunk. CLUNK.” Oh, no. A lot of the negative reviews said “started making a loud knocking noise almost immediately.” At the “25 minute mark” (I quote it because we all now know that the LCD is lying to me), the clunking starts its poor rendition of Stomp, like some clunking monster is sitting by the flywheel drinking tea with a stopwatch in one hand (one that speeds ahead obviously), waiting for the 25 minute mark to start the process of driving me mad.
Was it something to do with the heat? Was it getting hot in there for the clunk monster? He rented a flywheel apartment, not a goddamn sauna. I’m on his side! I’d deal with the clunks till around 30 minutes and then I’d stop. Try again tomorrow? See what happens.
The next day, I’d start my ride. The knocking would be very minimal, but it was there and I could feel it on the pedals. And then it would stop for a while. Okay… Then 25 minutes pass and CLUNK, CLUNK, clunk, CLUNK. When you open the manual for this bike, a laminated piece of paper falls out. “DO NOT RETURN BIKE TO WHERE YOU BOUGHT IT. CALL US FOR CUSTOMER SERVICE AND REPLACEMENT PARTS.” Not a fucking chance in hell. I’m returning this bike and getting something better.
Amazon is a monster. It’s the death of consumerism as we know it. Eventually, all employees in warehouses will no longer worry about how much time they take for a hot piss because they’ll all be replaced by robots. The delivery workers will all be replaced by robots. It’ll just fart out more and more products that are sometimes dangerously subpar. But their return policies are great! They don’t give a shit. They offer some yawning support, but I refused. I return it and they’ll put the balance that my mother paid onto my gift-card balance (which I’m putting towards a 400-dollar bike). In the end, Amazon wins. I had to roam around my town to find a box that will fit the FB150 when dismantled. The best place you can go to find a specialty box is at a Uhaul. I threw out the box foolishly days after I bought it, so I needed to find a new one. If you’re in the same situation as me, make sure the box is 48x15x15”.
As I said earlier in this review, I really wish this biked worked for me. Why does it start clunking for so many customers? The weight capacity is a very low 225 lbs, which I’m definitely not over but might be under by about 10 pounds. From reading reviews, it seems to clunk for people even at 160 or 170 pounds. I wouldn’t recommend anyone over 130 lbs to use this bike. Make sure you’re no shorter than 5’2” and no taller than 5’11”. If you’re 60 years old or more, this should be a great bike for you. My grandfather has bought bikes like these for years and they will give the right amount of resistance for someone who can’t get their heart rate up too much. Something to get the blood flowing while watching Coronation Street and then will fashion itself into a great clothing hanger when they eventually stop using it.
If you’re someone who saw an ad for Peleton and said, “I don’t want to spend $2500 but I do want to sweat like that,” don’t buy this bike. Don’t buy any fold-up bike. Get a proper exercise bike that will take up an extra 25 inches of floor space with a heavier flywheel. I have two more rides on the FB150 Clunker before I dismantle it and send back to Amazon. I’m taking the $224 and putting it toward a spin bike for $399, a spin bike branded by a company called MOMODA. It has zero reviews, but it does a promo video showing someone using it, so it…should…be…good? I know, I might be crazy. I’ve clearly learned nothing at all. But if this review taught you anything, it’s that Amazon reviews are bullshit for the most part. A lot of reviews are fake or some people have been paid to write glowing reviews for some form of compensation. The negative ones are easier to trust because no one is gonna pay someone to write a negative review. They come in hot.
Once the refund for the FB150 goes through and the next bike arrives, I’ll get ready to write a review on that too. I have this feeling that it’s gonna come in pieces like a model airplane. I hope the manual alludes to a mystery “special tool” at times like FB150 manual does. I can’t wait to see what I have to settle for with this new bike. I just want something to last long enough until my mother-in-law karate chops its head off.
I’ll keep the box this time.
The one pro-fast-food fitness podcast on the market is BACK, JACK.
Trump loses, but refuses. Don Jr chewing his teeth, Putsy’s Parkinsons, Anxiety and government weed, dismantling the exercise bike for a charity hopefully, water pitcher exercise, Facebook deleted kind of, Obese Turtlegate, Aspartame vs your health, Peanut Pandemic, KFC vs Pop Eyes, FBI Freebees, James Bond movies and the best Tom Arnold cameo you can ask for.
My other podcast (Confederacy of Dunks) is having a promo for month of November: Go to Manscaped.com and use the promo code DUNKSPOD to get 20 PERCENT OFF all orders, plus free shipping in US/Canada. Your balls will thank you, and so will we!
Ep 55 w/ your host Matt Duncan
Fell off fitness, cottage curse! Vitamin D, anti-maskers, Beans to live forever/black licorice a killer, Apple Wash Handwashing timer,
Plaque Art, Garbage bins, Friday the 13th, Schitts Creek wins, Chris Pratt and the anti-gay church and more.
Don’t let me die in a Fast Food restaurant, okay? Let’s go!
We’re a bunch of Pandemic Pattys just trying to figure shit out and get by. I’m hurting my neck for dumb auditions, The Fit4Less Saga over already, COVID numbers rising in Canada, called my insurance company about 3 cent check, I’m calling the death of the corporate gym and the rise of home gyms and janky independents, Trump Impressions: James Austin Johnson vs Baldwin and much more. I’m amped up on a coffee with Kahlua for this one, let’s go!!
I’ve recently approached the ten-year anniversary of buying my Peloton bike. When I say “my Peloton,” I’m not talking about the exercise bike that comes with a touch screen mounted to the front, connecting you to live classes (as long as you pay the monthly membership). The one where you even get a live “happy birthday” greeting from the instructor, if you end up taking a class on your special day. I’m not talking about that Peloton.
My Peloton is really a Tempo Fitness. I think it’s technically obsolete. It has no touch screen. The little screen that it does have tries its best to keep track of my time, distance, calories and heart rate. Because I have an Apple Watch, I use that for all my heart monitoring. I bought a drink holder from Dollarama that would normally be mounted to an outdoor bike and managed to clip it on. There are handlebar rips where my nails have dug into over the last decade. The seat? Well, it might as well be cement. I had to order a specific gel seat to take some of the pressure off my taint. It still manages to numb my genitals from time to time.
There are other issues I have with my Tempo Fitness bike that would make it feel self-conscious to be meeting for brunch with a Peloton. Oh, I can just see that brunch. The Peloton is sitting there eating a poached egg with cottage cheese while my Tempo Fitness is getting greasy with a egg-bacon-sausage-pancake combo and moaning about how its pacemaker is faulty. (I have to take the batteries out of my little pedometer screen or it for some reason will drain them. I make sure the batteries nest in a little sack that dangles from its rod.)
Speaking of the pedometer, my mother-in-law ripped it right off with, let’s say, nine months of pent-up aggression. (Maybe we’ll expand on that another time.) It wobbles and flops like Meryl Streep’s broken neck in the movie Death Becomes Her. A mechanism inside where the belt is located likes to thump, sounding like a young teenage drummer practicing with pencils on his Five Star binder. It really is quite a piece of shit.
I’ve briefly entertained the idea of buying a Peloton. Honestly, I’m way too cheap to spend $3000 on an exercise bike. I think I spent about $200 on my ol’ Tempy (okay, add another $3 for the water-bottle holder). If you want, you can just pay for the app apparently, have access to classes and engage on an iPad or smart phone. That is definitely more enticing, but you’d still be paying around $40 a month to access a gym from your own home. Discount gyms are like $10 a month. I would happily subscribe if it were a class full of my crappy exercise-bike compatriots, thumping and creaking over the instructor’s pleas to “bear down, here we go!”
I think I’d be too sad to leave my shitty bike. It’s gone months where it was more useful as a coat hanger. I left it at my parents’ place for years. But since we’ve been reunited, I really like that it’s always there, waiting, always willing to go at my pace. I’ve been using it a lot more since I got the Apple Watch, and now that we’re in the pandemic world, I’ve cancelled my gym membership yet again. Fun excuse this time! Usually I have to make up an excuse like “going to war” or “moving to Sudan.” Okay, I still said I was leaving the country, but I’m pretty sure they know that the pandemic is the root cause of all cancellations over the next while. Gyms are so fucked.
On the podcast, I’ve joked a lot about how all I want for the success of the show is for it to be burned to a CD and left somewhere for people to listen to during the Apocalypse. Like picture the Walking Dead, back when you still watched it. A survivor rummaging through an abandoned home, only to find an expired jar of olives and… a CD labelled “Podcast Fatboy”? It’s dire out there. You’ll take it.
Even though we’ve been warned about a pandemic for years, I’m still amazed that it actually happened because I’m technically a Millennial and we’re so selfish and naïve. If this really is the end, if we’re funneling toward a world that requires you to be more self-sufficient, practical and less digitally connected, then Peloton just ain’t gonna make it. Strap an eye patch on my Tempo Fitness bike because it’s ready to go full Mad Max. Just stock up on AA batteries.
Oh no, we’re back with a late summer breezer! Lots to say on this one. Fitness Update, Esophagus Sludge and UnWell’s Essential Oil take, Fit4Less Cancel Saga has begun, The Brass Rail 550, RIP Nick Cordero, doctors hawking supps, lectins are the devil (or is that just carbs?), the COVID app, OJ book guilt and more! Buckle up, tip your toes in a vat of mayo and let’s go!
COVID this and COVID that, we ain’t done, folks! Wear a mask, white people need to CHILL and mask up, you CostCo maniacs! I’m passing out, I’m masking up, cancel the gym, Darbee.com for fitness challenge inspiration, mind is mud-keep it liquid! OJ ain’t wearing no mask in Vegas, he still feels invincible, I guess, Johnny Depp and the bed poo, there’s just a lot to compute right now! Let’s go!
Had episode 51 recorded back in May, but some major transitions have taken place in my life so I re-recorded! So much going on right now, protests, pandemics, losing weight, Patch in trouble, eff gyms, I’m sick of them. Let’s go!
I know I’m a real rambling man on this pod, and it’s turned into something kind of weird and nuts, but please, let’s continue to support the Black community and make some real changes to the systemic racism that’s plagued our society since its conception. Black Lives Matter.
Please donate blacklivesmatter.ca
I’ve come out of hibernation for the first time in three months after a real, real tough winter. Now we’re in the midst of the greatest health crisis in a century with COVID-19 aka the Corona Virus. We’re all on lockdown, we’re isolating and working from home. The world is crazy right now but we gotta find ways to cope and get through it! Depression diet, pizza imports, Tiger King and washing hands, let’s go!
It’s Christmas Eve so I decided to do a short one before we all glug gravy and raise our blood pressure. I talk the anti-inflammatory diet, air pollution and exercise, Apple genetic testing, humidifiers and the flu, holiday blues and the holiday booze! Advent calendars end today, get your last dose of nasty saturation and let’s go. Merry Christmas and happy holidays!
I’m gonna be Canada’s first vape inspector. Hi, hello! Milk drinkers took a hit today with ol Sheer stepping down. Anxiety is back, Jack, stay hydrated! Voice monsters, advent calendars make you saturated and gross, Popeye’s Chicken sandwich vortex, Blue Zone Diets, Vegan influencers going meat crazy, Volcanic peekaboo, and I’m sniffing your vapes! Don’t tell me that’s Benson and Hedges menthol, I know it’s mint ice cream vape juice ok, let’s go!
Nothing stranger than a Caucasian man going to see Joker by himself, but what are you gonna do?? What do we have? We’ve got racist NHL coaches, we’ve got fancy meal services like Hello Fresh, we’re wondering what happened to Fuel Foods, we’ve got AIDS from the dentist, poo tossers, taint tanners, RIP romaine lettuce and beware your dog’s deadly lick. I’m working out like crazy and I’m so exhausted, let’s go!!!!
Holy crap, the flu almost took me down, but I’m back! Massey Hall recording is getting closer! Went to Vegas, should I try the Penn Jillette potato diet? Bikram yoga? No one with a skullet like that should be that confident, first of many red flags! Wanna go blue, drink silver water! Oregano oil still on trial for me, Apple Watch for the win and Canadians flunk physical activity report card, plus more mania! Speed up this ep like you want to on Netflix, you psychos, let’s go!!
It’s been a crazy couple of months. Getting evicted and married at the same time, forced me into a pit of alcoholic joy and depression. But we have moved and life has gotten so much better! I’m back at a gym, time to get serious about these goals again! Going blind eating pringles, rug burn can’t take your legs, Beyond Meat and Big Chicken/Big Beef, pizza is a monster, tonsil cankers and more. Tip your Pringles can to the heavens, let’s glug some chips!
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.