The other day, in my on-going quest to find new, fresh music for my workout playlist, I found myself perusing the CD selection at my local library branch on my lunch break.

The library's CD collection is really a wonder to behold. It's dingy and dusty and it saddens me that nobody has ever really found an adequate way of storing CDs. There are those big ugly towers, but they are big and ugly and now that the 90s are over, are no longer really acceptable furniture items. There are those giant binders, but they're unwieldy and not at all ideal for a library where you want to make sure people can check them out with the case. I know people have tried doing drawers with slots for each case, but those are always jamming up, and if you have a double-disk set, well, tough luck, my friend. Tough luck.

This particular branch of the NYPL system, it seems, has also just given up on finding a decent way to shelve their CDs and settled for just jamming them in rows on the shelves right above their VHS collection. The result is a display that makes it not at all easy to browse and extremely easy to chip of break the cases.

But if you do brave the horrible shelving situation to peruse the collection, you will be in for a treat. (A very, very random assortment of treats, really.)

For the most part, you'd suspect that this collection was conceived and mostly furnished during, maybe 1999, when purchases like Jamiroquai's Synkronized and The Baha Men's Who Let the Dogs Out seemed like they might possibly become essential parts of the pop culture pantheon. Other odd choices: Today's Country Dance Hits Back to Back (various artists), 98 Degrees and Rising (98 Degrees), and many, many copies of compilation albums from Entertainment Weekly and Billboard -- Greatest Hits - 1972, Pure Disco Hits, etc.

In the end, I picked up a John Fogerty greatest hits CD, one of those Entertainment Weekly compilations, and Melissa Etheridge's Yes I Am, feeling a vague twinge of nostalgia for a brief period in the fall of seventh grade where I waited long hours by the radio, poised to hit "record" as soon as "I'm The Only One" came on the radio. (Really, a great song, especially when you're 12 and most certainly the only one who has ever endured the horrible miseries of life and unrequited love.)

Kids today with their playlists and itunes are really missing a great preteen experience of forming mixtape masterpieces. It's really a lost art -- trying to hit the button in time to get the maximum amount of song with the minimum amount of DJ banter, and then stopping the recording before the DJ banter/next song/commercial begins. But, whatever. Now I have "I'm The Only One" on my mp3 player too.

Go-Tarts

I think this product may possibly been out for a while now, but for the last three years, I've ordered my groceries almost exclusively from Fresh Direct, which, happily, prevents me from perusing the aisles full of totally unnecessary prepacked processed novelty food items. So. I only just learned of Go-Tarts.

These, ladies and gentlemen, are Go-Tarts:

According to their ad, they're all the frosty, fake-fruit-filled goodness of Pop-Tarts, but they're smaller. And, somehow, this means you'll be more interested in ... taking them places.

OK, maybe this is just me, but I didn't think the original Pop-Tarts as being formal sit-down food. Yes, you can have it on a plate, and I suppose those with very picky eating habits could use a fork and knife. But really, is it that hard to take your Pop-Tart places? I realize it's a little bit more food than maybe you'd want in one moment (at least, this is my issue with those packs -- there are two Pop-Tarts packaged together, and really, I think one tart would would be plenty a lot of the time). But I don't get the impression that the American eating public -- the one facing an obesity epidemic -- is saying "We want smaller packages with less food!"

I realize I've been known to stretch the definitions of portable breakfast food, and can often be seen leaving my apartment in the morning with a plain (toasted) Eggo wrapped in a paper towel. (Ahh, there's a catchy product idea: Go-Eggos, or maybe Go-'gos!) But seriously? Go-Tarts?

Red Sox, MA

During a rather unspectacular Yankees vs. Red Sox game a few weeks back, Jesse and I found ourselves contemplating the back of Mike Lowell's jersey and discussing various Red Sox players whose last names are Massachusetts towns. (I believe Tim Wakefield was also pitching, but it actually took us a while to realize that that counts as a Mass. town, too.)


Anyway, we came up with a pretty small list during the game. Since there are many towns in Massachusetts that I am unaware of, forgot, or may or may not actually exist (Youkilis, MA?), our records were quite incomplete.

However, Jesse was kind enough to compile the following list (adding, "If you've ever wondered what I do with my days at home, it's stuff like this") and I thought I should share it with you all. Because I have nothing better to write about.

Presenting the Red Sox of Massachusetts (in order of population):

• Mike Lowell 2006-07
• Fred Lynn – 1974-80
• Carl Everett – 2000-01
• Tim Wakefield – 1995-2007
• Billy Gardner – 1962-63
• Larry Gardner – 1908-17
• Wes Gardner – 1986-90
• Joe Hudson – 1995-97
• Sid Hudson – 1952-54
• Lenny Webster – 1999
• Ray Webster – 1960
• Lou Clinton – 1960-64
• Chick Maynard – 1922
• Erik Hanson – 1995
• Bob Adams – 1925
• Terry Adams – 2004
• Bill Lee – 1969-78
• Dud Lee – 1924-26
• Sang-Hoon Lee – 2000
• Walter Carlisle – 1908
• Mike Paxton – 1977
• Tom Bolton – 1987-92
• Fred Hatfield – 1950-52
• Jeff Plympton – 1991
• Allen Russell – 1919-22
• Jack Russell – 1926-36
• Jeff Russell – 1993-94
• Rip Russell – 1946-47
• Al Worthington – 1960
• Garry Hancock – 1978-82
• Josh Hancock – 2002
• Bob Montgomery – 1970-79

This brings up a few points: namely, that I had no idea there were places such as Montgomery, Worthington, Russell, and Lee, MA. Or that the population of Clinton is bigger than Plympton. Or that Tim Wakefield has been with the Red Sox for 12 years. (That makes me feel old.) Any additions? Or otherwise completely useless lists that nonetheless are somehow interesting?

Band Aid guilt

Is it wrong to use the Band-Aids in the office first aid kit to patch up my sandal-scarred toes? Part of me feels like this is really an abuse of the first aid kit; that it's meant for emergencies and poor choices in footwear hardly constitute an emergency. But part of me feels like, dammit, my foot hurts; and furthermore, this is an office. What's the biggest Band-Aid requiring emergency that could possibly take place here? Massive paper-cut bleeding?

Yeah, I probably should go buy my own damn box of Band Aids. But these are here, and they're free and it's not like I'm taking extras in case I might need a Band-Aid, like, over the weekend. That probably would be wrong. This, I think, is justifiable.