Wednesday, March 14, 2007

Where the Boys are



My newly-single friend asked, "Where am I supposed to meet men, anyway?"

I said, "Well I can tell you, but you'll have to get up early."

The bachelors get up early -- even the young ones -- and take care of their tasks in a mostly bachelor world. I know it because I do too, and for the same reasons they do -- to get it done before the families and children are underfoot. (This is not a shot across the family bow. We love you, really, but even you will admit you are not the most efficient unit on the field.)

So stop sleeping in, single gal. Take your nap during the game, like the bachelors do, and get out there.

Dunkin Donuts - The men who go to Starbucks are meeting each other. Sorry to tell you. Boys who like girls do not spend money on themselves. This is why women buy their clothes and vegetables. Expensive coffee will be your idea after you land one. See also diners, below.

Laundromats - Before 10am on a Saturday, everyone in the laundromat is a single man. Except me, and I finally got a washing machine. On Sundays, you generally have until the after-church crowd. After-church laundry people have 5 children a piece. The rules of the laundry are also different at this hour, and Man Law says it is ok for you to use multiple machines at once as long as there are enough to go around.

Car Wash - Cleaning is a great morning activity, and the wash stalls are also men-only before breakfast. This enclave is not exclusively muscle cars and pick-ups, but mostly. Car Washing and laundry also do not take place on the same day. That would smack of housework, rather than just doing what you feel like. The married men are here too, and washing a car is a great reason to not wear a ring, so proceed with caution. Married men never do the laundry; they tell their wives they are going to the hardware. Which bring us to...

Home Depot - natch. Early morning Home Depot are the real contractors and they are on the job, so you won't get much out of them. It's more like a catalog to shop from. By 10am, the female couples arrive, having finished their pancakes.

Diners - They eat at the counter, all the better to chat the waitress, unless they are in groups, in which case they prefer the booth. No one can talk in a line, and you can't all compete for the waitress in that array.

the Tire Store - frightfully dull, but they do love the tire place. Go into a Bridgestone 8:30 on a Saturday and the vinyl sofa is full. I don't even think most of them are buying anything. It's the new general store.

Car Dealership - The men who go to the car dealership rather than a local mechanic know less about their cars, and they can't fiddle around in the bay with Eddie while he does his job, so they are a little bored and the coffee is bad. They are going to start a loud irritating cell phone call unless you talk to them.

Transfer station - You'll catch the divorced dads here, on the hilarious errand of taking their kids to the dump. A married man never makes it to the dump, until he is 60 when it becomes his new tire store; and a true bachelor doesn't care about recycling unless he volunteers there handing out "Get out of Iraq" pamphlets (in which case, he is a viable prospect). But weekend dads need all the entertainment they can get. And Cute Dads can be an older girl's weakness.

Yawkey Way - Need 'em-need 'em-got 'em On a game day, you're just waiting for the guys who aren't going to get in, unless you feel brave enough to throw in your cash and get 2 together. Off days, the pre-dawn line is Mantown. Dress warmly; it will be winter. And you'd better know your baseball, because that's all you'll talk about. For hours.

Glamorous? no. I never said it was.

Saturday, March 10, 2007

Shameless Plug

I've been meaning to write to plug a book that was recently on the Nightstand list (see left) but has since been replaced by something else (oh... a corporate biography about chocolate it appears).

I don't usually write much about what I'm reading, since the truth is I do prefer reading to writing, (and movies to either). And I read a lot of other people's personal reviews without ever acting on them. But one should plug books by writers they know personally, and this slim memoir holds a special place in my heart.


Rob Sheffield, critic, commentator, observer of popular culture, presents a Love Story-ish valentine to his first wife, and a sweet/sad remembrance of their brief young marriage and a relationship that has never waned. I had the amazing good fortune to know this couple, and was in fact in the wedding that kicked off the second act of their story.

[Amazon advises these related searches: Rob, please write back and explain!]

I had lost track of Rob some years ago. Honestly and plainly, he explained that he needed me to fade away with the things that were Renee's, and that we had no relationship without her in it. I've never begrudged him that. It was a loyalty to Renee and the weight of having witnessed their vows that nagged me into checking in on him. He let me off that hook, and as I now know, went on with his grief and his life. If you're wondering how long it takes to be able to express heartbreak... about 10 years.

This book kicked off a spate of grief books for me, I am afraid, and I will recommend them all:

The Year of Magical Thinking

A Cure For Dreams

The Wars

Read this book. Then go do something your spouse likes more than you do. And be grateful.

And Rob - you've googled yourself this far. Drop a line. My love to your bride.

Tuesday, March 6, 2007

Watch Now

or... one more way to beat the Throttle.


Guess what appeared recently on my tab selection: Watch Now -- an entree to streaming video, included with my membership, that works simultaneously with my queue.

That is to say, views selected to "Watch Now" are not deducted from my monthly allotment (the overt one we've agreed to or the covert one Netflix enforces in its limit setting).
In my workplace, they are fond of the word "decrement," as a verb, even though no such usage exists outside of this workplace. But that's not the story I'm telling.

How it works
For each dollar you are spending on Netflix per month, you are granted an hour's worth of online viewing from their available library of on-line titles.

Junk, though, right? Like Shirley Temple shorts?
This is not like the BOGO selection of frames at Lenscrafters, or the free literature on Librivox, but a decent selection of titles you would like to see and perhaps not like to wait for by the mailbox. Netflix will also show you titles available from your queue, and in my case, this included the eclectic range of "Funny Face," Korea's "Memories of Murder," a documentary about the Gardner Museum art heist, "Chinatown," and "Reality Bites."

Do the hours roll over if I don't use them?
No, but Netflix has figured out that they save on postage and overhead, (and ok, jobs etc) if they eventually get rid of the DVDs at all. 60 Minutes recently reported that Netflix is now the Postal Services single greatest customer. All without actually buying stamps.

Do I have to download something?
Yes, the Netflix movie viewer.

Is it spying on me?
Oh, probably. It will get bored with you, don't worry.

Do I have to be on line?
Yes, it is streaming video, not a download. This is no good for you travelling business types unless the internet connection is free. You may still want your wallet of DVDs for that.

I don't see this tab. What's up with that?
You have to be in the account owner's profile to see the tab. Those of you on secondary spousal accounts will have to hold on to the main password, and the system won't suggest films from a secondary profile's queue. So flick back and forth.

Thanks Netflix Guru! You've saved my viewing schedule again!
Anytime, citizen. Anytime.

Sunday, March 4, 2007

Bono for President

I saw this happen live. You may not include the NAACP Image Awards in your spring must-see award roster. But you need to watch this whole thing. He goes from silly rock star to humanitarian to civil rights leader to revolutionary in under 10 minutes.





This is what we want to hear from a podium. Go Bono.