There are plenty of reasons not to worry...

and...

Man shopping...

No, I am not in the hunt for a new man. Or an old man. Or any man at all.

I just want to talk about shopping as a male in American society.

The other day, I was feeling kind of down. Probably because I was at work; it tends to have that affect, sometimes. Just a mild wave of depression. It happens occasionally when I get to thinking that my life has become a routine and I'm just doing the same thing day in, day out. I start to feel hemmed-in and trapped, in need of shaking things up a bit.

Unlike Dane Cook, I don't feel an urge to just dance it out...

Usually, what makes me feel better, is shopping.

I guess the natural guy reaction would be to kill something. Or rip a fart. Or do a sky-dump onto a car. Sure, all those things are a blast, but I prefer to save them for my Friday nights. And this was a Wednesday...

On hump days, I shop.

I took a long lunch break, went down the street to Urban Outfitters, tried a few things on, and wound up buying the pictured Paul Frank sweater (now 1/2 off!). Good times... I love sweaters and I love buying myself stuff. Works out all around.

Here's the thing, though... It's tough shopping as a guy. We just don't have the same options as you ladies do. Eighty percent of retail options cater strictly those the sans-penis crowd. For the most part, we guys are limited to a small corner of one of "your" retail stores or denied shopping options all together. For G-O-L-F stores (gentlemen only, ladies forbidden), we have:

1) Express Men
2) Brooks Brothers
3) Condom World

...and that's it.

I find that extremely annoying, because it cuts down my fashion options. Since all guys are shopping at the same eight stores, we need to adjust our style to fit into one of the following categories:

"I am a lemming and my girlfriend likes the cologne"
- Shops at AE, Abercrombie and Hollister. Feels need to advertise said companies by wearing sweat shirts that scream the stores' name and/or takes racial slurs to a new, wearable level. Still rocks cargo pants and distressed trucker hats.

"Do I set off your gay-dar?"
- Shops at H&M, but only at the one that actually has a men's section. Also wore Express Men until they closed closest location. Probably owns three skinny ties. I wind up here...

"24 is the new 50."
- Shops at Gap, Banana Republic and J. Crew... wears the same outfits his grandfather does, but only minus the crew socks. Wants you to think he enjoys sailing. (Okay, maybe I'm here, too)

"My mom still dresses me."
- Old Navy, TJ Maxx and Sears. 'nuff said.

Blah... I'm pretty frustrated with it all. I have (some) money. I like to look good. I really heart shoes, but I'm S.O.L. as a consumer. Yeah, you girls have to try on 40 pairs of jeans before you find one that fits, but at least you have the option of choice! You don't know how good you have it.

Of course, we don't really deserve it, either...

Example:
I was in the mall last week, just looking around and shopping with my sister. I saw this guy standing at one of the sweater tables. He was picking one up from the pile, trying it on, snapping a shot of himself with his cell phone, looking at it and then moving to the next option. In this manner, he was able to try on six shirts without having to move or look at a mirror.

No one else thought this was unusual.

Maybe having shopping options is a privilege, not a right? In which case, thanks to the sweater and cell guy, we haven't earned it.

What I'm obsessed with (for now)...

Let's get one thing straight... I do not watch TV.

That's not to say I don't own one. I do... I think it cost $79.99 at Target my sophomore year of college - great way to put that scholarship money to use!

But my little picture box is barely able to call itself a television set. It's 19-inches (just like me, ba-dum-ching), has one button on the front and a remote that only works after slamming it onto the coffee table and muttering Inca curses. It's not so much there for picture-quality as it is for picture, period.

I do have cable... the intermediate package, actually (Hmm... intermediate package - that may be more accurate. But, uh, moving along...). But I only am willing to cough up the $105 a month for it because it means I get to watch every Sox game on NESN and gives me access to the sixteen different ESPNs that are out there: ESPN, ESPN2, Classic, Classicer, News-and-Sportscenter-when-ice-skating-is-on, the Ocho, the Spanish one, the Esperanto one... need I continue?

That, essentially, is the only TV I watch... I get to enjoy the Sox for maybe 7 months of the year and watch football highlights the rest of the time.

What I mean about not watching TV is that I don't watch any shows with any kind of regularity... I don't have time for the dramas, don't care about the reality shows, puke when anything on MTV comes on, don't watch as much news as I should. The only thing I follow is Lost and that's the result of becoming addicted by downloading episodes from iTunes to show off my video iPod (back when it was new and exciting, 60 gigs and not full).

I've never been a TV junky. I think, for that, you can blame my mom. We never got cable until 4 years after I moved out and, since we lived in rural NH, the only terrestrial channel we got without loads of static was ABC. So, ask me any TV-related question from the 90s not involved World News Tonight with Peter Jennings, and all you'll get in return is one big blank stare.

Since I don't watch the boob tube (hehe, boob), I'm always way behind any bar conversations about pop culture...

Me - "Hey, did anyone see the Friends finale the other week on TBS?"

Everyone else - Awkward silence, followed by them slowly shuffling toward the jukebox and away from me.

So, now that NBC's The Office is a hit and in its forth season, all my friends are talking about it, it won something called an Emmy or two, I just started watching. I figure it's about time, right?

I wound up buying the first season (6 episodes) on DVD two weeks ago and I watched them all in two days. Then, thanks to the gloriousness that is iTunes, I downloaded Season 2 in an hour and spent a Friday night holed up watching episode after episode. I'm now halfway through Season 3 and I can't get enough.

I've never seen the BBC original... but I can't imagine it being any funnier. Each of the main characters (Michael, Dwight, Jim and Pam) can carry episodes by themselves. The supporting cast (Kevin, Angela, Ryan the intern, Stanley, Phylis, Oscar and Toby) provide some of the best lines. The writing is edgy, in that the show discusses some really offensive and sensitive issues, but it strives first to be funny and second to make a point. You'd think that'd be a simple thing to do, right? Sadly, it's not... maybe that's why I don't watch TV.

Also, I find myself really caring about these characters for some weird reason. Yeah, it's just a sitcom, but I really want Jim and Pam to get together (they do, right? I kind of looked that one up), I hate seeing Michael mess up, I want Ryan to slap Kelly, etc... This show really gets to me. Perhaps it's a product of not watching TV and just being a naive sucker, but I think it's more than that. Solid writing all around...

I haven't seen anything from this season yet, but I have heard that the first four episodes were 1-hour long and dragged a bit. I hope that's not the case... if so, don't kill my buzz. I'll download it as soon as I'm done with the third !

"Fetch for whatever..."

For those of you who have been under a rock the last couple days, you might have missed the fact that one of the world's biggest bands just decided to give their music away for free.

Radiohead's 7th full-length album, "In Rainbows" is available on their website for whatever the consumer is willing to pay. The band is accepting donations/payments, but will allow the listener to not pay a single cent. Free choice, right?

So far, according to this Chicago Tribune article, 1.2 million people have downloaded "In Rainbows" in two days, making it one of the fastest (non?)selling albums of all time.

Incredible.

The band, which is already quite well-off, is not looking to make a statement or anything... It is planning to release an actual album, either late this year or early the next, with bonus materials, a nice box and higher-quality sound. (It's also a kind of giant middle-finger to its old label, EMI, which the band just a month or so ago after contract disputes.)

But, whether Radiohead likes it or not, the band is making a statement. It's a bunch of guys putting themselves and their art out there and subjecting the album to the most intense form of criticism possible - the almighty dollar. They put four years of work into this project and now it's out there for everyone with internet access to appreciate, sample, borrow, steal, etc...

I think, for fans of music of all kinds (whether you like Radiohead or not), it's up to us to respond well to this generous offer. Sure, you can pay nothing (or next-to-nothing) to get this record, but why not shell out a few bucks as a way of saying thank-you? I'm not suggesting paying $18.99 for the disc. After all, for every record sold in a store, the band only gets a buck or two of those profits. But why not shell out $5, less than the price of lunch or the same price as a medium latte, for four years of blood sweat and tears?

Thank the guys for saving you money and making beautiful music. If enough people do this, than maybe more bands will follow Radiohead's lead. Wouldn't that be terrific?

Okay, people, pay up!

And for those of you not convinced... "In Rainbows" frigging rocks. It's a delicate, ephemeral journey, highlighting the band's best skills - subtle hooks and inquisitive songwriting. I'll give it an A, if only for the price...

"I don't mind the weather..."

I don't mind the weather
I've got scarves and caps and sweaters
- Death Cab for Cutie, "Blacking Out the Friction"

You know it's fall when:

- October rolls around and the Sox are in the playoffs and the Yankees aren't.

- Ugg boots reappear from a four-month hiatus, not that anyone missed them.

- Leaves litter the sidewalk, ensuring that one runner per day blows out a knee sliding on the slippery suckers (Now that's some autumnal alliteration!).

- It's even harder to pry yourself off the mattress in the morning.

- I start playing the above song on repeat as I get dressed in the morning, slipping on a wool, or cashmere, or cotton, or whatever sweater and picking out a scarf to match.

For me, one of the simple joys of the season is the classic sweater and scarf combo. It looks good, feels good and just makes me happy.

I thought I'd share.

On a related note, my brother has taken to calling me "Seacrest."

(The photo, by the way, is one of the only ones of me wearing a sweater that I could access while at work. I'm the non-girl on the left... no comments about the color scheme, okay? It compliments my skin tone.)

My friends are getting famous...

So a trio of former co-workers of mine wrote and produced a video, which is now the top-rated video on FunnyOrDie.com.

For those of you who are like me and too lazy to click over to another site after I had to beg you to visit this one, I'll post the video here.

DO NOT play this at work without headphones. If you get fired, it's not my fault...

Don't you have something better to do on a Friday night?

I got pulled over last night...

...while I was riding my bike, no less.

I was riding home from work, a la 40-Year-Old Virgin (minus the basket), which is kind of lame, but it's a good way to stay in shape and the fastest way to get around Boston. I was heading down Mass Ave, which is a pretty busy street - four lanes of traffic, many busy bisecting streets, random bus stops and tons of drivers changing lanes without signaling. As I came up to one of those busy intersections, I saw an SUV coming towards me... the driver wasn't signaling, but it was pretty apparent he was planning on making a left-hand turn through traffic. Now I, knowing how Bostonians drive, assumed he was going to cut me off and braked.

I was right, and he did.

Slightly miffed, I pedaled on and almost ran over some idiot who was standing in the middle of the freakin' road.

"Stop! Stop! Pull here," the cop said pointing.

"Wha? Huh?" Were they pulling me over? What was this, some kind of joke?

The cop's partner, an overly aggressive woman in her early forties with a weather-beaten face and cropped blonde hair whipped out her pad.

"Where's your headlight? Do you have one?" She starts peering at my front handlebars with the intensity of a scientist examining a sperm sample.

Now, maybe it's just me, but it's fairly obvious if someone has a 50-watt, white light blinking on the front of their ride or if they're like me and don't. I think the lack of a small orb of blinding whiteness is a dead giveaway. But this officer apparently had to make a show of her inspection.

I will now recount our conversation... everything I said will be in regular type, but everything I should of said (and thought of later - I hate that!) will be in italics.

"No, ma'am, I don't have a light, as you can see."

"Well, you're supposed to. Where is it?"

"I haven't bought one yet."
"It was stolen. I reported it to you guys, but the dispatcher just laughed and told me to stop wasting his time. Funny how you guys care so much about it now..."

"Well, we're doing bike safety inspections here and you have to have a light in the City of Cambridge."

"Bike safety? You saw the guy that almost hit me at that intersection right there." - I point 20 feet behind me.
"Bike safety? Don't you have anything better to do on a Friday night with a home Sox game and drunk drivers running down puppies and old ladies in the crosswalks?"

"Hey! Are you trying to bust my chops here! Here I am, trying to read you the rules, and you're trying to bust my chops! Now I'm going to give you a ticket..." - here, Sgt. Safety pulls out her little pad and pencil and starts scribbling out a $20 fine.

"Whoa, no ma'am, I'm not busting your chops."
"Who the heck says 'busting chops?' What is this, 1950?"

"What's your name and address?"

I gave her my name and address.
What I should have given her was the finger, the name Daffy Duck and the address of the local women's shelter... she never bothered to ask for ID.

"Fine, look, I'm just telling you the rules. And you'll get a written warning."

"Thank you very much, ma'am."
"Good, 'cause we both know I wasn't going to pay that anyway."

Whatever...

Cops, they're always looking for something to do and someone to push around. Too bad they can't be concerned with actually trying to keep people safe, like making sure bikers don't get run over by reckless drivers or crash into cars that randomly swerve into the bike lanes.

Oh, and I should mention that, for the duration of our conversation, Sgt. Safety stood safely on the sidewalk. I remained stationary on the street, in the middle of traffic, with cars, trucks and buses whizzing by me. Now that's some bike safety!