I am not what one might call "social.." I do not frequent a. Temple Bar, b. the Signet Society or c. the Pit. To tell the sad truth, I rarely emerge from the Crimson-Dunster-Carpenter triangle. But one night last week, the rest of the FM crew having trotted off to Passover dinner, leaving me to fondle the greasy Crimson computer mice alone, I developed an odd urge to break out.

Now, despite my hermitic tendencies, I do know some people. And while generally just heavy, my address book occasionally comes in handy. It works well as a paperweight, and it's a good source from which to cull dinner companions. So last Monday night, I hauled it out. Scouring its pages, I dialed every number of any acquaintance with whom I might have even the slightest desire to dine. I must have called a good, oh, seven people. Each and every one had dinner plans.

Assuming that these people, my "closest friends," did indeed have plans---barring the possibility that they were lying to avoid my company---well, there's an awful lot of foreplanning going on. I mean, it was 5:30---5:30!---on a Monday---a Monday!---evening. And everyone---everyone!---I knew had dinner plans. They may not have been interesting ones, but they existed nonetheless. And me? I was sitting under the blaring glare of the Crimson's fluorescent lights, alone and hungry.

So this week, FM comes to you with an expanded set of listings. This week, we've dedicated six of our rollicking 20 pages to keeping you and yours appraised of hot happenings in Boston and Cambridge. This week, the anti-social, the misanthropic, the rather strange and others like me will not have to sit home, just because everyone else has scheduled their lives two weeks in advance. Fear not a lack of funds! We've made a special effort to include free events. And this listings spirit has even spread to the rest of the magazine, in which former ed TJ resurfaces from senior spring to prove just how far you can go---not to mention how much you can do---with $5.

A couple of days ago, two men appeared at the Lamont gate, hawking little green bibles. "Would you like a bible?" they asked me. "It's free." My sister once told me that such distributors have to stand on the street until they're rid of their merchandise, so I took a free bible. "See," one man said to the other. "People want them." And, in fact, this bible could prove useful. An index on pages five and six instructs searchers "WHERE TO FIND HELP, When," among other mishaps, "Friends Fail," "Lonely" or "Trouble, In." But the men were gone by four o'clock, and I don't know when they'll be back to offer texts of wisdom to everyone else. I can confidently assert, however, that FM has always, does always and will always come out on Thursday mornings, chock full of information on fun stuff to do. And just as those at the wedding in Cana had to drink wine made from water and Mary had to give birth in an inn, those few Harvard students who still don't have dinner plans should take salvation from whichever publication it comes. Happy searching.