Delta f and the Vicissitudes of Life in Windsor

Why do we do this to ourselves? It's only Tuesday, and I have that Sunday I-feel-significantly-retarded feeling. This time, it wasn't gin that did it, or any other kind of booze - well, okay, for the most part. This time, it's the brownies' fault that I couldn't remember where I'd put my keys this afternoon for ten minutes - only to realize that I'd been holding them the whole time.
JM seems to be on a kick for the wine lately, which explains why he had two friggin' huge bottles of the stuff last night. An affirmative aswer to "would you like a little wine?" resulted in being handed a glass to full to the brim with liquid that one had to be real quick in taking that first gulp, so as to not spill, that is. This got harder and harder as the wine got drunken and more drunken (are those even workds?).
Is was me (I can admit it) that had the bright idea that we should take a brownie. Let me take a moment here to mention that these aren't just regular Betty Crocker chocolate brownies, if you know what I mean. These are the brownies that when I first made them - and didn't know how strong, ahem, chocolicious they were - I didn't fully recover for weeks. Literally weeks.
So the next thing we knew it was three o'clock in the morning and we're in Farrarry's eating pizza and getting those "you must have brain damage" looks from the waiter. Mike and I, having brought our portable phones, were seeing who could get the farthest from the house and still have reception. Mike won, but I want a rematch. I really don't remember much after that.

I woke up this morning with the house absolutely fucking boiling, for some one had knocked the themostat all the fucking way up! It was thirty degrees, and I felt a little off-kilter as it was. The roof of my mouth was all burnt for some reason too. Maybe from sucking in the flame of a lighter, but I don't have conclusive proof. All together not an awesome way to start the day. The moral of the story is that my brownies are just too, uh, chocolaty for their (and my) own good. In the future, I recomend just eating them on weekends.

Never since Spaced Penguin in first year have I been so god-damn addicted to a free video game. I could be doing so many more productive things with my time other than sitting here in the computer lab playing a game that immitates reality - oh so well. I have to admit that it might take some getting used to ad first.
"Why am I throwing pieces of paper into a virtual trash bin on my computer when I could be doing this for real?" you might ask yourself. Who's gonna clean up all of that real paper, I ask you? I sure as hell wouldn't want to. So here it is, the Paper Throwing Game. I will challenge anyone to a dual anytime. I am such a loser, but meh, you could be too.

This weekend Chris and I are holding the fort; everyone else in Delta f is leaving. I for one think that it will be a rip'roarin' good time, and by that I mean it will no doubt be vewy, vewy qwiet. We'll see how it goes.

Ah, Birthdays. The one time of the year it's not just okay to act like a complete drunken fool, it's pretty much expected. There is no exception to this in our house at all.
Last Sunday was Coty's twenty-first birthday, and Saturday night was his time to shine, at least that's what he said, anyway. I tend to agree: if there is a birthday that's you're going to make memorable, it might as well be your twenty first. I'm reasonably sure that he made good - I don't know, I wasn't there for most of it. I was, on the other hand, in the house when he got back from the ol' bar at about three in the morning; the rest of us were all in bed.
At one point, I went to use the washroom and found Coty passed out in a chair clutching a Styrofoam take-out container. Chris and I both tried our hands at getting him up, but all he seemed to do was ensure us that he wasn't "that drunk, " an he'll do what he wants to. So be it - I go back to bed.

All is quiet for about an hour. All of a sudden, there's a pretty slurred conversation going on at bar. Funny thing is, there was only one voice: It was Coty, and the conversation was getting pretty heated from what I could hear. Enough so that Justin came downstairs and asked very politely what the hell Coty was doing, also realizing that it was his birthday and all.
"I'm gis wrelly fucked-up..." Was the answer, and I don't think Justin (or I for that matter at this point) was going to argue. Apparently, Coty just didn't want to stop partying. More power to him.
Then it got weird, though. After about five minutes, Coty is running around the house going "whoooooo hooooo!!" and talking to himself bigtime. He's outside at one point, then back inside - even back at the bar at one point. Eventually, Coty is down in his room with the music so loud that my windows are shaking. I can still here him though, singing the lyrics like a champ. I feel almost bad to stop Coty's self-party, but at this point at's five a.m., and I need to sleep.
It still kills me that when I went downstairs to ask him to turn it down, there was a look of genuine surprise in his eye that I wouldn't still be partying too! Half of me wanted to grab a bottle and join him. Unfortunately, the other half of me (a much more tired half) wanted to sleep. I'm guessing Coty had a good birthday.

The Cable summit Seems to have been a success!
Despite a little disappointment on my part due to the complete lack of creativity on the part of those trying to convince us to keep the cable, we have amicable decided that we will be cable free. As of December second of 2004, don't come to our house to watch bad American television - that is, of course, unless you're willing to watch bad free American broadcasts; then come on over.
Another issue brought up in the summit was the fact that dishes being left out all night was no longer kosher. I for one was very surprised when the entire house agreed readily to do their dishes before the rot sets in, not really internalizing that the summit was the exact same day that two women were due to arrive for the weekend. Silly me. Both women left left yesterday, and this morning the nasty George Forman grille and Encrusted Egg-to-frying pan content in the kitchen was disconcerting. They didn't even last one day without their girlfriends.
Sigh - it was fun while it lasted...

That being said, there are ten days left of cable in our house. It will be interesting to see who loses it first, but I'm a little worried about Chris: the way he watches Start Treck: Enterprise since the summit with the same gaze as a soldier scheduled to leave for combat can't be healthy. The separation is going to be heart-wrenching.
For this very reason I propose a Goodbye Cable! Party on the second. It's a Thursday (party-night anyway...), so I don't think I'll have much convincing to do. Maybe we can all dress-up as our favourite cable t.v. characters.
Or maybe not...

It was bound to happen at some point,
And here it is, the first major - or at least relevant - disagreement that our house has ever had: whether or not to keep cable television. I'm trying to remain as unbiased as possible on this issue for the purpose of this blog. Ah hell, fuck it - I hate cable TV with a passion and I want it gone as soon as possible. For me, it's a waste of money; a service I never use. There, I said it. That out of the way, here are the particulars:

For the removal of cable television at Delta f

Justin, Mike and myself.

Against the removal of cable TV at Delta f

Coty and Chris.

This issue has all the makings of good political intrigue: Passionate arguments; lobbying; heck, this basically just started last night, and already we have people accused of flip-flopping - it's amazing. This whole gong-show started when our cable provider removed (with no warning) the movie channel from our service while apparently keeping our bill the same. Fuck you COGECO Inc., fuck you.
Those that stand for getting rid of the cursed service (sorry, there I go again) have a bit of an advantage though: We can unplug the main TV at any time and refuse to watch it, thereby not using the service, and thereby not having to pay for it, provided we contribute to any fees associated with disconnecting the service, and as long as we hold the popular vote; democracy in action. But That's not the idea I had for Delta f, oh no, because that would be just mean. We - those for scrapping the idiot-box - have decided to give those with an opposing view a forum for their argument. A summit, if you will. For them it will be a chance to convince us why we need to keep TV. Good luck guys.
So, on November 18th of this year (next week), at four p.m., the fate of cable TV at Delta f will be more or less debated. In the mean time, those against TV have opted to not use the cable at all to show we're serious (I hope, because this was a hard sell to Justin), still leaving computers, Playstation, DVD's and videos. Coty has made it clear he will make this week as hard as possible for us, like a true champ.
What I plan on getting out of this summit - aside from that ten dollars a month I used to pay for cable - is insight into the whole necessity of cable television. You would not believe the look on Coty face (and I hear Chris' as well) when we brought up the prospect of getting rid of it. It was like we said we were going to kill some infants and rape the corpses. Seriously - that bad. Coty and Chris really love their TV. I plan on doing a special edition of this site for the summit.
This is going to be good.

No, I do, I really do - I make booze in my closet. Technically, it's apple cider, but the amount of "reviews" I've received to the tune of "I just can't quite put my finger on what the hell is stopping this from being good," or "well...It's not that bad," all get the same reply: It was made in my closet - what the hell do you expect.
All I did was get about twenty bucks worth of apples from the ol' A&P and boiled them down to mush (something I learned that I shouldn't do); added just over a kilo of sugar to the mix and then tossed it all into a five gallon tub, then filling it near the top with water. Add yeast, then wait for four or five weeks. Please note - I'm simplifying here people.

Over the course of making this stuff, a few things went wrong. Nothing major, but I feel I should point then out. First, my closet is pretty cold, which is not a really read thing for making booze.
Next, the top of the tub that I used to brew this stuff was a little contraption I rigged up to keep the oxygen out, but the CO2 in - to make sure bacteria keeps it's nasty self out. To make a long story short: I broke said contraption without knowing it while rummaging (drunkenly) through my closet. I still hadn't known I'd broken it two weeks later when I checked on the stuff. Oops!
Well along came the day to bottle the stuff, and after taking out most of the apple chunks (much to my present housemates' relief) I was left with ten one-litre bottles of closet-made Windsor Swish. Yum Yum. Hydrometric testing throughout the process tells me that I have a brew of about 5% alcohol, by volume. Why the hell would I do this? You ask. "Everyone needs a hobby," I say, and cheap booze (I swear it's not that bad when you get used to it) is most of the time a swell thing.
I'm currently working on a much more potent recipe that you brew, and then leave out in the freezing, Canadian winter air over night, separating the frozen water from the liquid - though nicely chilled - ethyl alcohol. Closet Swish brand Ice Distilled Moonshine should be available at Delta f in mid December - just in time for post-exam partying! See you there!


until then, we're just going to have to be happy with the good 'ol beer store.
*sigh*

Very strange, this. I get home last night at around midnight after a long, hard day here at the Leddy library only to find that there are ten or-so eighteen-year-olds in my house; Justin and Mike are sitting at the bar not exactly looking pleased with the situation. It turns out that I had completely forgotten that Chris' younger brother was coming over after they saw the GreenDay concert. Funny thing: Chris is not here.
Our concerns with the prospect of having to babysit these kids are quietly set aside when it turns out that this one kid Ryan has a forty of Barcardi and is sharing it. We humour them.
I'm pretty much kidding - I'll concede to that; it turns out they were for the most part rather cool, in addition to providing free liquor to their hosts. Chris does eventually show up with the excuse that they had said they were coming later, so he went to the bar. We barely hear him, we're into a good game of Kings by this point.

Then Mike, Justin and I reminisced about highschool when we noticed that a few of these kids had become really drunk, really fast, most notably: Chris' brother, who's name I can't quite remember. Anyway, this kid is blasted and is doing one of those really good drunken swagger-dances to the music and spilling his drink all over the place, every now and then letting out a "WHOOOOOOOO!" when there's a lull in the music. Have I mentioned that I haven't even been home for an hour yet?
Well, after getting some footage of the Super Loaded mini-Chris (on his own video camera) the posse of delinquents decides it's time to drive back to Chatham - The DD's hadn't been drinking, of course. We wish them farewell and send them on their way, rather pissed that Ryan had remembered to take his rum with him, despite our best efforts.

Questions to ponder for the day: These kids left a nice mess of bottles and filth in our house; who will clean this up? Will it be Chris? Coty? Mike? Justin? Me? Cumulative effort? Magic flying monkeys? God? Believe me, I'm on the edge of my seat to see where this goes. Tomorrow's garbage day too - I'm on the edge of my seat.

I'm still playing with the format of this thing, but basically I love the idea of writing a kind of journal of the, uh, unique things that happen in our humble home at 194 Bridge. I also love the idea of writing this thing and not telling my housemates about it for a while. Unfair? Maybe. Amoral? Probably. Hilarious? You had better believe it. Let's start with a rather common occurrence in our house: Going out and getting Drunk - you would hear the capital if I were speaking - in Windsor, such as we did last night.

The Cast: Me, Coty, Mike, Mel, Chris and JM.

The night started out innocently enough: a few drinks and decisions about where the hell we're going to go. We decide on The Bridge Tavern (ohhh, I'll be writing a whole article on that place, don't you worry), to be followed up by Twig and Berries. These are local bars in the university area. In fact, most of you reading this will be familiar with these places, therefore every university-area bar in the world, so not much of a description is necessary. I digress. On this night, for a change, everyone is in good spirits and relatively sober. It is said that Kareem is going to meet us at one of the bars for some "old school" partying, which we're all looking forward to.
We get to the Bridge and the band is really hot. For some reason I'm playing pool and not making a complete mess of the game. The usual calls for everyone to chug by JM are mostly and politely turned down. Until, that is, we decide to leave the bar. Everyone chugs, putting the crew unexpectedly in a more spritely mood. Next stop: Twigs.

All I can really say about Twigs that I didn't mention earlier is that in the space of a block, there are bars named Twig and Berries, The Liquor Box and Big Dick's. All are owned by the same guy, allegedly. This is Windsor for you.
We arrive at Twigs after a brief - and loud - stop at our friends the Engineer's house. They inform us, much to our horror, that no, they will not be joining us at the bar because of a midterm they have the next day - a Saturday. We felt for them, briefly, and continued on our way. Still no sign of Kareem.
Things are getting interesting now, for the booze from the Bridge is settling nicely in. Mike, JM and Coty beat the pants off some people at fussball and Chris is being admonished for being "creepy." Mel and I don't see it, but Coty assures him it's there. I begin to think it might just be the light in the bar.
For some damn reason I'm playing pool again with Coty and our opponents are questioning whether we're telling the truth when we say they're playing against two Tylers. I admit, it would blow my mind too, but carding us was not necessary. We lose.
Suddenly, it's two-thirty in the morning, the lights are on and our empty glasses are being literally scooped away from in-front of us. Unpleasant murmurs from the crowd say that it's time we leave the bar and go home, but not before a stop at the 'ol Pita Grill for food. I would like to take the time here to note that I live with four people that are physiologically not capable of drinking without eating a meal afterwards. I am really starting to believe that they would drop dead if they didn't. JM obviously can't afford food, so the pitiful look in his eyes whilst he watches Mike, Coty and Chris eat says that he's making food at home and there ain't nothin' gettin' in his way. I sure as hell don't plan to. Still no sign of Kareem.

Yikes, then I get home and the pot comes out, all of a sudden there's neighbours in our house and a cocker-spaniel wandering around. I swear to god, it's true. It's four in the morning and my bed is shaking from "last dance with Marry-Jane" coming from Coty's room, which I ask them to turn down; I have work to do the next day. The volume setting is turned from "Black Sabbath Concert" to "Ever-so-slightly-less-than Black Sabbath Concert." It's no matter and I fall asleep anyway.
And so ends the typical night at Delta f. Just wait until we get to an a-typical night; that's entertainment, but not this time. No, this afternoon I woke up just as I usually do on the weekend: Shaking the fuzz from my head and not looking forward to leaving my room because it smells like a Bingo hall in the rest of the house. More midterms are in the cards for me soon, so the library was my destiny; cultural psychology my horoscope. That being done, here I am, writing about my life in Delta f and posting it on the internet. Ah, student life.

It's only a year or so, but here it is: The Delta f Website up and running, thanks to a few perks of the information age. I haven't really found the catch to this thing yet - as in how much blood/money/pain I'll have to dish out for having this thing posted for "free" - but for now we can just be happy knowing the crazy, often dangerous, but always entertaining things we do at Delta f now once again has a forum!
I Guess this is the second incarnation of the Official Website of Cody 4 back in first year, 2002-2003 which is still taking up space at http://www3.sympatico.ca/tylert. Check it out if you want to know how this gong show got started. Maybe I'll start the Drunk of the Week again, who knows.
Anyways, for those (oh, so few) fans of the original website I kept up, this is for you. Hope you enjoy it!

Oh yes, I almost forgot!

A Delta f poem:

Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f

Is so great...

Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f Delta f

Is so fine...

Oh how I wish that Delta f was mine.

-Tyler Thomas,
President, Delta f.