Just in time for the 57th annual Grammy Awards, the folks at Savings.com are giving away a trio of Sony portable party systems with Bluetooth and NFC.
It would be great if all three went to readers of Surviving and Thriving. Failing that, even one winner would do.
You have until 11:59 p.m. EST Saturday, Feb. 7 to try.
The other night we went to hear a local jazz quartet. Or, rather, tried to hear them, being bracketed on either side by people who decided to talk during the music.
To my left were a couple of women who looked barely old enough to drink. They yammered for long, squealy stretches about jobs and friends, and the photos on their smartphones, and the Facebook updates they were posting.
To DF’s right were two women whose voices were audible but whose words I couldn’t quite make out. Thankfully, they left toward the end of the first set; at that point DF told me they’d spoken in detail about how best to avoid the locals during bike trips to other countries.
You go all the way to Guatemala or Sierra Leone and you want to AVOID the locals? I thought. Why did you even go? And why are you HERE when you obviously don’t care about the music?
Yesterday we went to the Metropolitan Opera’s live movie theater broadcast of Richard Wagner’s “Parsifal.” It was a semi-frugal experience: The discounted movie tickets that I bought through MyPoints reduced the $22-per-head cost, and I used my giant $3-per-refill cup.
In another year DF will be old enough for a senior discount, which will shave another $2 off his ticket. But what’s an extra $2 when you get more than five hours of scorched-earth opera?
By that I don’t mean that the music takes no prisoners, but rather that the set is a post-apocalyptic expanse of cracked clay – except for Act II, in which the principals spend most of their time standing in 1,200 gallons of blood. You learn the most interesting things during the intermission interviews.
I spent six butt-numbing hours at the movies on Saturday, watching the Metropolitan Opera’s live broadcast of “Gotterdammerung.” Spectacle, pageantry, a buff and bitchin’ Siegfried who turned out to have a down-home Texas accent – it was a very successful day.
The only thing better than opera is frugal opera. In fact, the show didn’t cost me anything: