Last night, a friend (let's call him "Josh") said that he was retiring his Sony 42-in. flat-screen HDTV for the summer. He and his wife plan on getting some reading done now that Jack Bauer has brought down the president and Dwyane Wade has finished doing his Michael Jordan impression. (I offered to babysit the TV till Labor Day; he declined.)

But maybe "Josh" is on to something. With summer TV in full rerun mode (except for a few reality shows), we figured there was time to do all those things we had put off while watching Michael Scofield try to bust his brother out of prison, or Veronica Mars figure out who killed her classmates.

So here's our Top 10 summer to-do list:

10. Remove backyard shrine to Clay Aiken, build 30-foot monument to Taylor Hicks. Charge admission.
9. If wife asks for the garbage to be taken out, scream, "There's no time!" and have her send request to PDA.
8. Hire announcer to say after dinner, "Stay tuned for the most shocking rose ceremony ever!" Give wife a flower, tell her you think you've made a great connection.
7. Buy dynamite, open hatch in living room floor.
6. Call airline, cancel flight from Australia to Los Angeles.
5. Change street signs to "Wisteria Lane," park moving van in front of house, carry out body-sized objects rolled in carpets just to freak out neighbors.
4. Tell panel of judges that your singing in the shower is not "karaoke"; thank fans for their support.
3. Return remote control to Bed, Bath, and Beyond.
2. Finish script for "CSI: Bangor, Maine."
1. Read a book - about TV.

That ought to keep us busy until we return to that desert isle this fall. What do you plan on doing this summer? Let us know.

By David S. Hauck

So you’ve overcome the argument about how the extra up-front cost of a hybrid vehicle takes too long to recoup (despite IRS incentives and unrelenting $3-a-gallon gas).

You’ve shrugged off concerns about long-term battery life – and even come to terms with the fact that no cheap, safe, hydrogen-fuel-cell vehicle is going to show up in great numbers in the next few years.

Hail to thee, gentle hybrid-vehicle driver. You deserve one of those coveted “hybrid parking only” spots and a cash reward from your forward-thinking employer.

True, hybrids are not the only gas-saving game in town. Promising developments in alternative fuels keep coming fast – from “clean” petrodiesel to various blends of biodiesel to straight vegetable oil (SVO) to cellulosic ethanol and other fuels made from byproducts and waste. Volvo now has a prototype vehicle that can run on five different fuels.

An alt-fuel hybrid might ultimately be one way to go.

Current gas-electric hybrids aren’t perfect, but they’re here (in a broadening array) and they pay you back pronto for emitting fewer hydrocarbons. I just spent a week in a 2006 Honda Civic Hybrid after a guilty stint commuting alone in a high-riding V-8 Chevy Tahoe – and I was pretty inspired when I looked in my wallet at the end of it.

As with other hybrids I’ve driven, the car almost immediately affected the way I drove. An odd phenomenon occurs when you realize that you can take small steps that lower an already reduced burn rate. Obviously, less combustion equals less consumption. So you want to keep the spark plugs from sparking.

Say you’re in a “pure hybrid” like a Toyota Prius or Ford Escape and you stop at the back of a long line of cars at a tollbooth. The car ahead of you moves, and a gap opens. Instead of just stepping on the gas and closing it up, you delicately take your foot off the accelerator and the electric motor does all the work. You’re cutting into the “foreign-oil dependency” you’re so tired of hearing about.

Of course – and I’ve seen this happen – the driver behind you might move his hand (the one not holding a cellphone) to his horn. So check your mirror before you turtle along; there’s no point generating hybrid backlash.

Some drivers alter habits in other ways. A friend in Los Angeles boasts about “feathering” his Prius’s engine at highway speeds by establishing momentum and then laying off the gas, applying only the slightest pressure to ensure that any needed boost is electric-powered. Late one night on a stretch of the 110 freeway, he says, he soared along at about 70 m.p.h in full electric for a couple of miles.

This works to some degree with the Civic Hybrid, too. Thanks to its valve engineering, its electric-assisted gasoline engine can turn without firing when the driver eases off the throttle while headed down a gentle hill. (There’s a thrill that comes with watching the “assist” meter run right up to its peg.)

Drivers can become downright obsessive. Take, for example, this post on a 2004 cars.com forum: “While I have ALWAYS used coasting in neutral down hills to extend mileage, I have refined the technique lately. I now also create “virtual hills” of velocity on ALL grades. The net result is, I now drive LIKE A ROCKET SCIENTIST. Namely, I apply thrust in PHASED BURSTS, to projected optimum velocity (sometimes tweaking speed limits), then simply coast down. Done properly (and traffic permitting) my engine is IDLING much of the time.”

There are less radical tactics: You can go easy on the air-conditioning. Or look into tires with “low rolling resistance.” (These are not necessarily great in snow.) Of course you can always just employ the basics that predate hybrid technology: carpool and drive off peak.

Are you a hybrid owner who has honed a few tactics – short of making warranty-busting modifications – for reducing fuel-burn beyond what your vehicle does on its own? Write me.

And check out our last automotive post.

by Clayton Collins

The Yankees-Red Sox rivalry was starting to bore me.

There, I said it.

This is coming from a life-long Yankee fan who has spent the past decade in the heart of enemy territory, where sports' greatest rivalry should have only gotten hotter since the Sox's improbable comeback against the Yankees in the 2004 postseason.

For the first third of this season, things had become pro forma. Guys like Mike Lowell, Mark Loretta, and Josh Beckett, one-time National Leaguers who were new to Boston, talked about the rivalry like they were reading from cue cards – saying all the right things but not feeling it in their bones. On the Yankees' side, it's never seemed as if A-Rod, entering his third year with the team, bleeds Bronx Bomber blue.

Then the Sox rolled into New York this week and everything changed. Chalk it up to a reinvigorated youth movement. Due to an injury list that resembles the Manhattan phone book (Hideki Matsui, Gary Sheffield, and Derek Jeter for the Yankees; David Wells, Mike Timlin, Wily Mo Peña for the Sox), some of the young farmhands are starting to see action.

On Monday, Yankees greenhorn first baseman Andy Phillips cracked a three-run shot off of Beckett, propelling the Pinstripers to win the first game of the series. Phillips' homer came an inning after 21-year-old Melky Cabrera scored from first base on a botched throw by Sox catcher Jason Varitek. The play had all the chaos and energy of a Little League game, which has been missing from the Bronx lately (outside of one Greg Louganis dive into the stands by Jeter last year).

Then, on Tuesday, 22-year-old Sox starter David Pauley did his best Greg Maddux impression, keeping the Yankees off balance all night. He can thank the young Mr. Cabrera for his 2-1 loss. In the 8th inning, Cabrera scaled the left-field wall to take a game-tying home run away from Manny Ramirez. Cabrera seemed as surpised as anyone that the ball stayed in his glove, the reaction of a little boy playing a little boy’s game.

There was a time when both teams were known for their deep, young talent pools. Nomar Garciaparra, Shea Hillenbrand, Roger Clemens, Mo Vaughn, and Jeff Bagwell were all products of the Sox farm system. And the core of the Yankees teams that won four World Series in five years at the end of the 1990s – Derek Jeter, Bernie Williams, Jorge Posada, Andy Pettitte, and Mariano Rivera – were all home grown.

Lately, though, each team has embarked on an arms race, bringing in flashier, pricier outside talent. You get Manny Ramirez? We get Jason Giambi. You get Gary Sheffield? We get Curt Schilling. You get Alex Rodriguez? We get ... Alex Gonzalez? (OK, George Steinbrenner’s pockets may be a little deeper.)

Last year began a return to form. Robinson Canó, the Yankees' second baseman, was thrown into the fire and almost won rookie of the year. And starter Chien-Ming Wang helped a beleagured starting rotation by winning eight games.

For the Sox, flamethrower Jonathan Papelbon plugged a Green Monster-sized hole in the bullpen. This year he’s the game’s best closer, with 20 saves. And Kevin Youkilis, who had beaten a path to the Sox Triple-A affiliate in Rhode Island, has solidified his place in the starting lineup. One more reason for excitement: Craig Hansen, the team's No. 1 draft pick last year, was just called up to the big club this week.

These young guys don’t need to be told about the rivaly; it’s in their DNA. Here’s hoping the teams’ front offices are paying attention.

What do you think? Are you excited about the rivalry? Which is a dumber nickname, Melky, Coco, or Trot? Write us at Weekend.

By David S. Hauck

The world of television has graduated some of cinema's biggest movie stars. Tom Hanks. John Travolta. George Clooney. Will Smith. Jim Carrey. Johnny Depp. Bruce Willis. Robin Williams. Ben Stiller. Jamie Foxx.

There's just one problem: They're all men.

Few, if any, established television actresses have transformed themselves from darlings of the Nielsens to darlings of the box office. True, Helen Hunt went from an Emmy Award winner to an Oscar winner. ("As Good As It Gets" may be an apt description of her film career based on her sparse filmmography since that Oscar magnet of 1997.) Meg Ryan and Demi Moore both started out in television, but neither was a name star until they had success on the big screen. So who's left? Sara Michelle Gellar may yet make the transition if her huge-grossing horror movie from 2004, "The Grudge," wasn't a one-off hit. Similarly, Jennifer Garner, formerly of "Alias" and "Felicity" may yet blossom into the next Julia Roberts if she can capitalize on the well-liked "13 Going on 30." That is, if she doesn't make further silly follow-ups, like the disastrous "Elektra." (Forget Halle Berry in "Catwoman or Jessica Alba in "The Fantastic Four"; you'd have to go as far back as Helen Slater in "Supergirl" to find a worse movie about a superheroine.)

Which brings us to Jennifer Aniston. This could be a make-or-break weekend for her. There's no doubt that she's a bona-fide magazine covergirl. But is she a movie star? Judging from the tepid response to her films since quitting her waitressing job at "Central Perk" (average tip: $1 million per "Friends" episode) the answer seems to be, at best, not yet. "Rumor Has It" that Aniston's film career has "Derailed" despite having "Friends with Money" to boast about.

This weekend, the face that launched a thousand hairstyles may be able to boast a sizable opening for her new movie, "The Break-Up." But is it even her movie? If anything, audiences may turn up for Vince Vaughn, who talks so fast that he should consider a career as a racetrack commentator or a role in an Aaron Sorkin show. If people aren't turned off by the reviews, they may also turn up out of curiosity about the chemistry between the off-screen couple. Or they may just buy the latest copy of People or US Weekly instead.

So why is it that TV actresses struggle to make it to the big screen? Is it just that are fewer meaty roles for women on the big screen? Maybe the small screen simply offers so many strong vehicles for leading women – "Desperate Housewives," "Grey's Anatomy," "Will & Grace," and "The New Adventures of Old Christine," to name but a very few. Maybe Aniston will have to do a David Caruso and return to her small-screen roots.

Let us know what you think.

By Stephen Humphries