After the Phillies’ major-league heartbreak last Saturday, it would be pretty hard to have a bad weekend in comparison. Oh, but wait, the Eagles are playing on Sunday … crap. Well, here are a few ways to fake your way through the potential bleakness.

That’s all I really want is girls … The traditionally misogynistic music industry can step aside this weekend as we are blessed by a bevy of female performers covering a wide range of musical tastes. There’s the ultra-serious Britney Spears-defending redhead Tori Amos at the Tower, American Idol winner that we actually don’t want to kill Kelly Clarkson at the Borgata, Mistress of Funk Chaka Khan (interviewed here) also at the Borgata (and on the same night as Kelly — yikes!), stunning Israeli soprano Chen Reiss at the Academy, and when did country music stars become so hot LeAnn Rimes at the House of Blues. Jeeeeesh!

What ever happened to the “Sunday Drive”? … I seem to remember turning my air conditioner on just a few days ago, but the calendar says we’re a few weeks into autumn. If the increasingly chilly dampness isn’t enough to convince you, hop in the car (sign up for PhillyCarShare if you are without) and seek out changing foliage. If you don’t do it soon, you’ll have to wait until this time next year, when we still will have not elected a new president.

West Philly: Good for more than just crime … Having lived in West Philly, I can tell you that the people who live there are way too cool. They fuel cars with vegetable oil. They collect rainwater for reasons I don’t exactly understand. They tend to be vehemently anti-capitalist. And they have really cool stuff. So if you go to their big flea market in Clark Park, you can buy their really cool stuff for really cheap. Just don’t drink the Kool-Aid. (Though I may have heard that it’s a pretty good place to buy some Kool-Aid, if you catch my drift …)

Chasing the triple-triple word score … If you know that aa, ae and ar are words but have absolutely no idea what they mean, you must be a Scrabble player. If so, come find me at the Free Library for Philly Plays Scrabble as I attempt to be crowned the city’s Lord of the Seven-Letter Word.

E-A-G-L-E-S EAGLES!!!

As always, e-mail me your thoughts, reflections, and suggestions.

This weekend I have the honor of hosting a high school friend’s 24-hour, stripper-free bachelor party that includes flintlock-rifle shooting in the boonies. Yikes! So that you might have a better and less injurious time than me, I submit the following …

Sure, you could watch him on cable and save the 150 bucks, but … I know it’s absolutely pathetic and I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned it before, but I am without cable or satellite television, meaning that my prime-time life boils down to a pair of rabbit ears and that my exposure to comedian/fake-news-guy Jon Stewart is pretty damn limited. But based on what my so ironic and so smart and so Comcasticked friends have to say, Stewart’s Saturday night appearance in Atlantic City is not to be missed. I might just have some tickets lying around for the 11 p.m. show, so if you want ‘em, e-mail me posthaste. Say something witty.

More digression on my lack of cable … Back to the old rabbit ears, it seems that every time I turn on channel 12 these days (by the way, my colleague Steve Volk just wrote a terrific little piece on the station and its grossly overpaid CEO), I see Ken Burns’ new WWII documentary, The War, which will undoubtedly be remembered as being much better than it is, as with all Ken Burns documentaries. All weekend, descendants of our primary enemy in the Big One — the Germans — will drink beer, eat lots of schnitzel and brats, and sing songs in honor of German-American Day, which actually sounds like a pretty all right time.

Such a sellout … If not for the aforementioned hoochie-less bachelor festivities, I would have considered going to see Springsteen or the Foo Fighters. Springsteen is 100 percent sold out, and the Foo Fighters are getting close. Unfortunately, there’s not much else worthwhile going on concert-wise, at least within the genre of music made while I was alive, so you might just have to pay to play. Sherry’s Tickets on 15th — my favorite ticket broker — has one more pair of general admission Springsteen tix going for $200 each. Sheesh! And don’t forget to buy your Neil Young and Stevie Wonder tickets when they go on sale on Saturday morning, so you don’t get scalped again.

Drinking and driving while on a dorky-looking scooter is perfectly safe … This weekend, scores of heavy-drinking owners of scooters (as in Vespas, not the senior citizen kind) get together for thrill riding, carousing, cheesesteak-eating and, best of all, karaoke at Johnny Brenda’s!

Intelligent life – in Philly??? Philly’s shortest and most talented actress, Jennifer Childs, stars in The Search for Signs of Intelligent Life in the Universe, a show made famous by the always delightful Lily Tomlin. They’ve just added some shows to the schedule, meaning that you have no excuse to miss it.

Who would’ve thought that scoring a Phillies ticket for this weekend would have become more difficult than getting a seat at Van Halen’s two-night stand at the Wachovia Center next week? This is a strange and wonderful city, my friends, and here are some ways to enjoy it.

Oh, what I wouldn’t give to see that Bono wanker get his ass kicked: If you, like most people, have become disenchanted with the world of professional boxing, the antidote can be found on Saturday night at the New Alhambra, when hungry amateurs go toe to toe in the Muay Thai Kickboxing Showdown. It’s bloody and ruthless, and apparently a pretty good place to pick up single women, assuming you’re into gals that like to watch people beat the crap out of each other. In other bloodsport news, the Colonial in Phoenixville shows Raging Bull on Sunday. On film no less.

Spend money on weirdly attractive women: Tickets go on sale at 10 a.m. Saturday for two women I love. First, the foul-mouthed and well-schnozzed Sarah Silverman, who pretty much sucked as hostess of the MTV Video Music Awards but still rocks my world. But the show that you can’t miss — and the show that I am going to miss because I have to go to a friggin’ wedding on November 10th — is the incomparable Annie Lennox at the 1,900-seat Merriam. (And if you have enough money to do all that, you can certainly afford to buy your favorite person at Philadelphia magazine a ticket to that Van Halen show next week. This blogging really doesn’t pay the bills.)

If the last book you read was not the Da Vinci Code: The National Book Festival, whatever that is, is going on in D.C. this weekend, though we’ve got plenty of our own book stuff going on to keep you bibliophiles occupied. The two events you’ll find me at: the $1 per pound book sale at Robin’s Bookstore and the Banned Books Reading at the Free Library in honor of National Banned Books Week (who knew?).

Total sensory overload: So the Franklin Institute is selling $25 tickets to the pretty lame Tutankhamun exhibit, which — finally — ends this weekend. It includes the Mummies IMAX movie. But I’d much rather spend $14 and see Transformers in IMAX. A friend of mine just saw it and said he started having acid flashbacks.

Bad table manners: I’m really not much of an art gallery guy, but photographs of random Philadelphians stuffing their face with food and taken without permission I like.

If you have any suggestions for the Weekender, please e-mail them to me. And don’t forget my Van Halen tickets!

Although thousands of Labor Day Shore-goers and their waning tans would disagree, summer officially ends this weekend — meaning that before long, dirty piles of slush and a desire to stay at home and nest will overtake us. Before you succumb, some thoughts on how to spend your dwindling sun-swept days.

Rock n’ roll hoochie coo: You take Aerosmith, with their penchant for singing about the “kitty in the middle,” and pair them up with one-time sorta Philly girl Joan “I Love Rock and Roll” Jett, whose recent album included the phrase “relax while I pound your ass,” and you’ve got one damn fine night of rawnchy rawk this Saturday at the always gaga Borgata. Unfortunately, I just heard from our Main Man at Live Nation, and it seems that there are actually enough people out there willing to shell out $185-$225 (face value!) to make this show 100 percent sold out. Now, you could always do the Craigslist thing, but in the interest of rock and roll and democracy, I offer up a pair of general admission tickets to the person who leaves the best message on my answering machine [UPDATE: contest over!!!] before 4:30 p.m. today. You can sing “Dream On,” you can breathe heavily, you can profess your undying desire for the most handsome man at Philadelphia magazine, — just do it creatively, and, whatever you do, don’t forget to leave a callback number. Oh, and be aware that I’m recording you for the purpose of worldwide embarrassment on the internet. The winner will be notified later today by phone, and your tickets will be at the box office.

Apparently the Chinese started fall back in July: For nine hours on Saturday, you may not want to drive through Chinatown, since the city’s Chinese community (and everyone else) will descend upon 10th and Arch for the 12th Annual Chinese Mid-Autumn Festival, turning our usually ho-hum Chinatown into a place worth coming to, if only for a day. Yes, there will be the lion dance, a lantern parade, Chinese opera and kung fu demonstrations, but I’ve got my money on the food vendors, sure to be offering some interesting Asian delicacies.

Maybe there is hope for your marriage after all: Here’s a great documentary that you’ve probably never heard of and may only have one chance to see on the big screen: Crazy Love. Basically, it tells the story of a New York couple that has been married since 1974. That in and of itself might seem like a pretty decent accomplishment, but when you consider that they only got married after the man hired thugs to blind the woman with lye because she left their tumultuous and adulterous 1950s affair, well, the title is more than apt.

Somebody want to buy me Comcast?: So that wretched ABC show Dancing With the Stars starts up again on Monday — a harsh reminder that I don’t have cable. It’s also a harsh reminder that I’ve been forever promising my wife that we would take ballroom dancing lessons together. Perhaps one Friday, we will ditch the kids and head over to the University City Arts League for their weekly Milongas (Argentine tango) party, a sweaty night of lustful dancing in West Philly. They offer classes beforehand, but I’m sure that, even then, I will look like a complete and utter idiot.

Get the hell out of Dodge: Since we just hit 300 homicides and since the Valley Forge Gun Show pulls into town this weekend, promising “Muzzle Loaders to Machine Guns: We Have It All!,” you may decide it prudent to get as far away from Philadelphia as possible. If you’re really spontaneous and have absolutely no responsibilities, you could fly nonstop on Saturday to Santo Domingo for $238 round trip. Really. Just don’t forget a bottle of rum for yours truly.

See you next weekend!

Now I know you were planning on sitting at home all weekend, perfecting your Sudoku game for the upcoming national championships, but you really need to put down those wretched little grids and get out and do something. To that end, I offer these suggestions.

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Since you didn’t hit New Jersey’s $330 million jackpot, that weekend gambling spree in Macau might have to wait. Here are some other worthy ways to fill your time.

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