Close Encounters of the Local Kind

Home sweet, uh, someone else’s home?

Posted on March 27, 2008 by jlazzaro
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You’ve dutifully been protecting yourself against identity theft, right? You shred bank statements, junk mail, and old documents. You hoard your personal information like it’s a dish of lasagna in a college dorm. You regularly change your passwords and you’re one of those few people that actually studies bank statements.

And yet, breaking news confirms that while you secure your bank accounts and identity, the newest thing thieves are going after may be the very two-floor colonial you’re sitting in right now. That’s right, if you’re one of those people owning a house, even that may be up for grabs. Check out this release from the FBI:

.. The con artists start by picking out a house to steal - say, YOURS.

… Next, they assume your identity - getting a hold of your name and personal information (easy enough to do off the Internet) and using that to create fake IDs, social security cards, etc.

… Then, they go to an office supply store and purchase forms that transfer property.

… After forging your signature and using the fake IDs, they file these deeds with the proper authorities, and lo and behold, your house is now THEIRS.

Crossing the Borders Bookstore

Posted on March 24, 2008 by jlazzaro
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For now, our local Borders store is in the clear. A manager informed me: “We are not aware of any plans to close this store.”

While stories have been percolating that Barnes and Noble could buy out the international chain store, he assured me that they are merely rumors.

So, while your favorite book store is safe, keep buying your books, gifts, and lattes (while skimming through the heftiest magazines, of course) at North Attleborough’s Borders.

Plainville peeps, the time is near

Posted on March 13, 2008 by jlazzaro
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It seems so long ago, but really, only a month ago, several acquaintances of mine were devastated to realize that they were not registered to vote in the Massachusetts presidential primary.

Standing in the Plainville town hall office, only days before the primary, even I was disappointed for the man who arrived only a day too late, to discover that his change of residence had booted him from registered status.

And while a friend, who will remain anonymous, called me on Feb. 5 unsure of why she was turned away at the polls, it turned out four years earlier, in the carefree days of her eighteenth year, she had registered as a libertarian. With Massachusetts one of 23 states omitting the libertarian party from the ballot, my friend, unfortunately, was denied her opportunity to vote.

So, Plainville residents, with your town election around the corner on April 7, unless you’ve already registered, get yourself down to the Plainville town hall and get yourself registered. With only one real choice to make, concerning the town’s town clerk, you’d be surprised how much even the smallest choices can count.

Put on a happy face

Posted on March 7, 2008 by jlazzaro
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Everyone was out and about the last two days, while spring weather visited our usually snow besieged town.

By three in the afternoon, North Attleborough residents, eager to take advantage of the nice weather, were filling the streets on their rushed commute home. And while the spring weather blocked traffic, it didn’t ruin any moods.

What a nice dose of happiness a little sunshine can bring. Too bad storms are due tomorrow, when we can all expect our crabby-bad-weather personalities to reemerge.

Just try to believe that it’s not their fault.

Posted on February 4, 2008 by jlazzaro
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Walked into Tedeschi this morning, for a cup of coffee, but was treated to various reasoning for exactly why the Patriots played so badly last night. “Was it a lame Brady?” “An underused Moss?” “It certainly wasn’t that Welker.” “Nor was Maroney, he pulled out all the stops last night.”

So exactly what was it that made the East Coast’s golden boys fall to such a mysterious bout of bad luck? I could blame it, as I truly believe, on the offensive line, which acted like it had spent way to much time on a merry-go-round and ended up with an endless case of the dizzies. Or, we could have more fun, and implicate a higher being. Perhaps it was a jinx; voodoo magic; vengeful bad luck for a team that had had too much last- minute favor; or possibly, the malicious force of all those Patriots-haters booing in the audience, a curse set by all those spurned football fans as they mourn for the teams that didn’t make it into the playoffs.

Mission possible: vote in the Mass primary

Posted on February 1, 2008 by jlazzaro
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Fun times are upon us as the presidential candidates stop avoiding the topic of the current president’s last seven years, and instead start ripping into him. Even those who’ve shaken his hand, dedicated lovely speeches to him, and given him an affectionate hug. Good. So this means we can stop pretending that the tragedies of those years (must I name them?) were random misfortune and start talking about how the biggest tragedy has been the very purposeful demolition of everything our nation was about.

With Super Tuesday around the corner, what a joy for North Attleborough, that after months of our very mixed-party area avoiding the topic at parties, sporting events, and work, we can all head to the primaries and stick-it to the other people with a vote in our favored direction. I’m hoping that the tension will subside.

Cheers.

Posted on January 23, 2008 by jlazzaro
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There are a lot of great things about living in a small town, or in the case of North Attleborough, a large town that has never shaken the small-town atmosphere. Daily I’m reminded of the perks of small town-life. There’s the friendly nod from fellow joggers while you’re out on the morning jog. There’s the honk of the car horn as friends pass your house at all times of the night. There’s the security of having known the town’s cops and firefighters all your life and the joy of remembering when they used to pee their pants in kindergarten. There’s the safety in knowing that most people are related to you, and if they aren’t, then you probably dated them in high school.

But unfortunately, there’s also the realization that the car you just cut off was the police chief on his way to the station; or, that the donation collector you just ignored is a friend of your father; or, that the girl scout pushing cookies at your front door is the daughter of the woman who babysat you when you were a child.

Granted, there are probably a lot of people who think to themselves: oh no, the town reporter just saw me wipe out in that parking lot; or pick my nose while stuck in traffic; or hum Celine Dion songs while waiting at the ATM.

But, hey, when you need to go where everybody knows you name, here in North Attleborough, you can stop by anyplace, and there’s about 29,000 people who, if they don’t know your name, will likely make a good guess.

The gym has been compromised.

Posted on January 23, 2008 by jlazzaro
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I’ve always been a firm believer of supporting local businesses, with the exception of one important institution: my choice of gym.

I’ve frequented the area fitness centers in out town, which were all lovely. In college, I visited my school’s gym, which was located in the same building as my dorm room. But, in all situations, I was increasingly distracted by the presence of people I know. In most situations a familiar face is a welcome site. Who doesn’t jump at the chance to chit-chat?

And this is why: at the gym I’m disgusting. I’m wearing my unflattering spandex apparel; I’m making painful expressions as I push myself; while stretching, my bottom’s in the air. And while I’m sweating like a 400-pound man eating chili peppers, I want to avoid all situations where people I know might feel embarrassed for me.

There’s nothing quite like executing the downward-facing-dog and realizing that the person waiting behind you was once your high school prom queen.

Besides, if I can convince myself that while I’m running on the treadmill I look like a Baywatch babe, I’m guaranteed to run an extra two miles.

Not long ago, I joined a gym in a neighboring town, and ever since, my gym routine has been flawless. The only people who have the pleasure of seeing my spandex, my pained expressions, or my sky-facing derriere, are people that I do not know, who don’t read my articles or blog page, and will have no idea that I channel Pam Anderson to get me through a tough workout.

But the other day, to my dismay, I recognized someone at my obscure gym…and she recognized me. There was a returned look—something like, “Oh no, I know her.”

And while I was disappointed that my workout had been compromised…I felt a relief that I wasn’t the only person that had this need for anonymity at the gym.

Needless to say, I understood. And while we exchanged a nod of recognition, I was relieved when we didn’t chit-chat. Each of us retreated to own corners, where we unabashedly showcased our downright-dirtiness.