matthearn.com

Whoof. Last couple days have been full of annoyances:

• Sarah’s sick. Not sure what’s wrong, yet, but her tonsils and uvula are swoll up like Roast Beef’s bozack and she sounds like a muppet. So I took off work yesterday to drag her to the doctor, which took like 45 minutes because apparently the test for strep throat takes forever to read. Turns out it’s only 75% effective anyway, so we had to go to Labcorp to get blood work done and figure out if Sarah might have freakin’ mono. I can’t say I’m happy about sharing the house with somebody contagious with some unknown and possibly deadly virus. Naturally, uh, I’m also concerned about Sarah’s health.

  Then we had to get go to Happy Harry’s to get medicine, and by the end we found ourselves driving back to New Castle at approximately 5:15, which meant it took us 45 minutes to get home, and I got paged on the way for some system being down. (It turned out to be a stupid customer, which it usually does, but I have no way of verifying this on the road.) Anyway, hopefully we’ll find out the results of the test in a few days.

• What is up with people and the total lack of comprehension regarding “personal space?” I was at Boston Market today picking up dinner, and while the guy is wrapping up my purchases and taking my money, the lady next to me got close enough that it looked like we were there together. She seemed normal; not the usual New Castle white trash, just a middle-aged lady getting a hot turkey sandwich. Every time I inched away, she inched closer, until eventually I started trying to work up a truly horrific fart just to get her to back off. I couldn’t muster one, so I had to pay and leave and hope she didn’t try to climb into the truck with me. If we’d been at an ATM, she’d’ve been close enough behind me that I would’ve starting saying “Daddy? Is that you?”

Okay, I guess I only have two minor annoyances. But before you say I lead a charmed life, remember! I, uh, have horrible skin! Yeah, that’s it! Who’s a rich whiner NOW?

You know the first time you go to the doctor, and he explains that the growth on your stomach is relatively normal? That it’s just a massive beer gut? Remember the relief you felt when you realize you DIDN’T have a massive tumor on your torso, but instead would just have to diet and lose 30 pounds? Remember hugging the doctor and crying, and then buying a milkshake on the way home?

I guess it’s just me then. Anyway, that joy is what I felt at the Phillies game at Citizens Bank Park on Saturday.

The only word I can really use to describe the ballpark is: “Tinglerious.” I don’t even know what it means, but it’s a great stadium. Food on every concourse, plenty of bathrooms, incredible sightlines to the field, and a good showing by the home team were the order of the day.

Food: We were in the 400 level, which is really high up, but still had plenty of food options on the concourse: cheese steaks, hot dogs, fries, beer (plenty of beer), everything you could want. My only complaint was that there was apparently only one restaurant selling cheese fries, and of course that was the line with 15 people in it. Milo wanted fries, and it being his birthday, I had to stand in line for an entire freaking inning. I almost had a seizure, but luckily I was drunk.

Bathrooms: Reasonably clean, and plenty of them. I suspect the cleanliness was mainly a measure of the fans not laying yard biscuits in the middle of the floor like they used to do at the Vet, but it was nice nevertheless. I didn’t have to wait in line to pee. Ever. It ruled. ‘Cause I was drunk and had to pee a lot.

The game: Really great. They say there’s not a bad seat in the house, which is true, although some seats are obviously more “super” than others. We could see everything happening, which ruled, but I couldn’t yell insulting things at the opposing players an the umps. I was able to yell at the guy that threw out the ceremonial first pitch (because he completely missed the catcher), “I’m embarrassed for both of us!” As you probably recall, I was drunk.

Polanco, Lieberthal, Bell, and Burrell all homered in a 6-3 win over the Expos, which was nice. Phils moved themselves up to 4-6, I think, so maybe they’re gonna get out of this early hole pretty quickly.

Saturday night I wanted to go to Knappuccinos, but got paged by annoying work. My job is irksome at times.

Sunday was a busy day; I awoke at 5:30 because HW was snoring like a polar bear (it turns out she’s got tonsilitis or something), was at work at 7:30, and was back home by 10:30, which was nice because I had a few hours to hang out before my Brigadoon audition, which I think went absotively superbly.

They had me sing parts of all four songs, plus a bunch of reading, made me do a little dance step to demonstrate that I don’t have cerebral palsy, and asked me what I’ve been up to for the past 8 years since I haven’t done any theatre other than working at the high school. I’m feeling pretty confident, although that indicates nothing; the last time I felt “confident” about an audition was that porno tryout in 1997, after which Ron Jeremy had me blackballed from the business, the jerk.

Just a few ramblings today:

• My poll on whether or not I should audition for the Brandywiners’ production of Brigadoon is going nicely; so far, 4-0 in favor. John Kerry would KILL for numbers like these! Also he’d kill to not have a face like Joseph Merrick, but that’s neither here nor there.
• In a related story (they occur on the same day), the HTAC 30th Anniversary Semi-Formal (how 11th-grade is THAT?!?) is happening on April 24th. Alumni that want to go, make sure you contact Fran “Drescher” Nadel and send her money. Interestingly, I found out today that the alumni have to cough up $30 apiece (which gets you appetizers and a dance floor), plus the cash bar, while the current HTAC members only have to pay $20. That’s not even remotely shady. No, not at all. It may, however, qualify as “skeevy.” Forsooth, I am skeeved by it. (Of course I’m not bitter.)

  On the other hand, since HTAC is technically a community theatre company, and I don’t recollect ever telling them I quit the group, I’m still a member! I’ll be requesting $10, of the $30 I already sent, be refunded.

• Brian Smith sent me this audio clip today, and I nearly wet myself. He says it actually went out on the air live. Can’t beat that with a lacrosse stick, I tell ya.
• I think Sarah’s getting a little worried about my metrosexuality. I’ve started using Nivea moisturizer on my face in a desperate effort to try and get my skin to stop breaking out; I’ve lost something like 10-15 pounds (I’m not sure, as I lack a scale, but I’m wearing 38×34 jeans again); and here’s what I’m wearing today: black buckle-shoes, grey socks, khaki pants, black belt, grey ribbed turtleneck sweater, and as the piece de resistance, my corduroy sport coat. If I get any hotter, I’ll have to start keeping a fire extinguisher in a man-bag in case I start smelling the acrid scent of burning human ass-flesh.
• Be sure to check out the latest updates over at llij.net, and don’t miss the totally def picture of me.
• Is it just me, or does Condi Rice have an enormous head? I know something about enormous heads, and hers is something to behold, I tell you true. You’d think if she’s on ‘roids she’d have bigger arms, but she’s kinda built like Pirates Barry Bonds instead of Giants Barry Bonds. She’s kinda like a black Ashley Olsen, actually.
• Who’s glad to have Easter done with? Raise your hands high! Who doesn’t really care since they didn’t go to church anyway? Freakin’ heathens. It was a long weekend; I had to sing on Maundy Thursday, Something Saturday, and Easter Sunday, and I hit up the Good Friday service as well to make myself a little more Jesus-y. I’m about sung out, so of course I’m singing an evensong on Sunday with a rehearsal tonight.
• I’m going to a ballgame on Saturday, which’ll be nice, assuming the Phils stop crapping all over the field. One and six, I tell you. Pathetic. After that I’m going to go home and sober up a bit before showing up at Knappuccinos; I figure since I’m playing there next month I should go and see what it’s all about, dig?

And that’s all I have. If it’s not enough, I recommend alcoholism.

Okay, I’ve had just about enough of Timothy’s. I’m organizing a boycott. Who’s with me? WHO’S WITH ME? Let’s do a rundown of my issues with the bar:

1. Everything is ridiculously overpriced. $9 for a burger? $5 for a cup of friggin’ soup? Friday’s doesn’t charge that much, and Friday’s (Friday’s’s?) food is decent; we’ll get to that next.
2. The food is not good. Everything’s either over- or under-cooked, and just tastes bad. I’ll give them a point here for their crab soup, which is pretty good, but nothing else is really worth ordering, particularly since you know you’re probably gonna play $17 for an entree.
3. The service is mediocre; your drink will spend most of its time empty, the food will probably arrive cold, and you just won’t get any attention, except for Jen behind the bar, who knows how to keep a beer topped off.
4. My office is approximately 150 yards from Timothy’s, and there’s a parking lot between us. It just so happens that my office is close to that parking lot. However, I’m not allowed to park there. I’m only allowed to park on the OTHER side of the building, or up the 50 foot hill. Apparently Timothy’s needs this space, despite the fact that the only time that Timothy’s manages to fill their parking lot is on Friday, at Happy Hour, when 50% of my building goes over there for drinks anyway! I’m not fat and bitter or anything.

So anyway, I see no reason to ever go to Timothy’s again. It’s not like getting to the Deer Park is a challenge, and if you’ll permit me an SAT-style analogy: Deer Park:Timothy’s::Helen Hunt:Joseph Merrick. Shellhammer’s (in University Plaza), of course, is Jessica Alba. <COMIC BOOK GUY>BEST – BAR – EVER.</COMIC BOOK GUY>

Because I’m absolutely freakin’ SHAMELESS, I’m stealing an idea from Jill, as recompense for her using my “post the funny search phrases” gimmick, which of course I stole from Jeff Kay. She filled out a cool questionnaire that a friend of hers sent her, but since I don’t have any cool friends with questionnaires to send me (I usually just get the “Robin Williams Plan For Peace” email twice a day), I just stole the one she used. Here we go:

Your Name Here: Matthew David Hearn, although I often go by General Custer.

1. If you were Imperator/Imperatrix for just enough time to pass one global mandate, what would it be?
By Imperial Dictate, anyone that sends me the “Robin Williams Plan For Peace” email has to give me $50 or be kicked in the jubblies. Same goes for that thing about life that George Carlin allegedly wrote after his wife passed away.

2. What is your favorite opera?
Ooh, a toughie! Probably La Boheme. Saw it at the Met a few years back and it was so money I wanted to rename it Benjamin. Carmen is also a favorite since I’ve performed in it a few times myself. Unfortunately I just don’t know that many operas because I find oratorio and choral music so much cooler. I’m gonna say La Boheme. Yeah. No. Wait. Yeah, that’s it.

3. What was the last movie you saw that made you want to hurl your popcorn at the screen in disgust?
Haven’t seen anything in a theatre in years; I don’t see the point in paying $10 per ticket. I can’t recall ever seeing a movie that was so horrible I was actually pissed when I left, because the only time I get out to a movie theatre is if I KNOW a movie is going to kick so much ass that I won’t be able to sit down. I did get a little pissed when I went to see the remastered Star Wars, episode IV, and they changed stuff like “Han just blows away the bounty hunter” to “The bounty hunter shoots first, so Han HAD to kill him!” PC crap that like that makes me throw up in my mouth.

4. What is your favorite rainy day activity?
Playstation 2. No question. I’d like to say it’s something much more meaningful, like “reading poetry to my beautiful wife,” or “baking donuts for the homeless,” but in all honesty if I’m stuck inside with nothing to do I’m gonna be firing up MVP Baseball and hurling 100mph fastballs at Barry Bonds’ enormous head.

5. If you could whisper something in the US President’s ear in the middle of a press conference, what would it be?
“You’re doing an okay job, but it’s time to back off the gay marriage thing, dude. Homosexuality is perfectly natural, or at least more so than snorting cocaine off a stripper’s foot in a Texas honkytonk in 1973.”

6. What musical instrument would you like to master [that you do not already play]?
The list is endless. I’m working on learning the piano, but I also think it’s time I learn to play a woodwind instrument of some sort; I’m thinking the bassoon would be cool. But I also want to learn the mandolin and dobro so I can get my bluegrass band off the ground. I think I’ll stick with learning the piano, if only because not knowing how to play is rapidly becoming a serious liability (running a choral rehearsal and not having anyone to play the keyboard parts gets REAAAAALLLY annoying).

7. Did you ever have a friend who was born in the 19th century?
I had a great-grandmother that died in 1993 that was born in 1899. I never exactly thought of her as a friend, but she was pretty cool.

8. What song drives you up the wall?
“I Don’t Want You Back” by Eamon. Absolutely makes me insane if I can’t change the channel.

9. Tell us about a time you fell asleep while driving (if applicable):
So Kyle and I are driving out to Michigan to help my buddy Brian move all his crap from Kalamazoo to Flint. It’s about a 12 hour drive, plus I had driven 4 hours down to Richmond to pick up Kyle, so Kyle took the first shift, starting around 9pm, while I napped fitfully. Around 1am, we were coming out of West Virginia, and we stopped for gas, so I took over driving, quickly chugging two Red Bulls to keep me awake. Sometime around 3:00, I wondered if I was gonna make it to the next gas fillup. Sometime around 3:30, after having driven several feet onto the shoulder 2 or 3 times, I woke Kyle up and said, listen, we gotta stop, I’m gonna kill us. Kyle switched over to the driver’s side and I passed out until 6am.

(There are other instances of falling asleep, but this is a family website, and that’s all I have to say about that.)

10. If the Earth was about to be destroyed and you were allowed to save only one work of literature to represent your home planet, what would it be?
I have no idea. Probably a collection of Dave Barry columns, or a copy of Hustler.

11. What sport would you like to play (that you do not already play)?
Whoof. Well, I’d love be a football star, but quarterbacks seem to get hurt a lot and die young. Baseball would be fun, of course, but realistically I’d like to get pretty good at basketball. It’s something I could actually play in rec leagues around here, year round, and it’d help keep the weight off. As it is now, I can barely dribble without looking at the ball, I shoot approximately 7% from the field, and my ability to rebound is limited by my complete inability to jump more than 8″ into the air.

12. What sport would you like to abolish (that hasn’t already been abolished)?
I guess this would imply that there are sports out there that are “wrong,” but I can’t think of one. Liberalism, maybe?

13. Tell us a little about the worst job you ever had:
They’ve all pretty much sucked. I’m not a big fan of working, personally. I’d like to have a music career, but unfortunately I like expensive things, and giving up my cushy job seems a high price to pay for the, what, 1 in a million chance of making it big as a musician? I think being a poor musician would suck worse than being a bored computer engineer.

14. What is your earliest childhood memory?
Not sure…probably when I was about 4, I remember riding in the car to the hospital because mom was in labor with Amelia. I THINK it may have been the Monte Carlo, but they might have bought the Caprice Wagon by then. Not sure.

15. What was the first record you ever bought with your own, hard- earned money?
I think it was the Eagles reunion live show thing, “Hell Freezes Over.” Not a bad album, when you think about it.

16. If you were forced to be on one of those idiotic TV talk shows, which one would you opt for? Why?
Probably Regis and Whatshername, because Whatshername is so hot. Or maybe The View to flirt with Elizabeth Hasselbeck. She is highly rad.

17. If you could communicate with one particular specie [sic] of the animal kingdom, which would it be and why?
Cats, no question. Just to find out why the hell our cat The Cheat doesn’t like anybody and refuses to use a litterbox consistently. Also to find out why Pete throws up all over the house.

18. Which holiday ought to be stricken from the calendar?
Labor Day. Unions are communist. (If I disappear over the next few days, check local construction sites.)

19. How would you make automobiles safer for everyone?

• Make it 100 times harder to get a license.
• Spend billions on public transportation infrastructure.

20. Was this a fun interview or should it be stricken from the records?
It was rather fun. It remains to be seen if my readers will be impressed, but they’re such hard nosed bastards anyway.

Check the Favorite Searches, updated for March 2004, now with my comments!!! Some are greatly amusing.

So I bought the recent Norah Jones album. It’s got some absolutely incredible songs on it, and some okay ones; this is unlike the first album, which was pretty much good from beginning to end. Still, well worth the money, if only for the vast array of instruments. Here’s a short list of some of the weird things that are played on the CD:

• Slit Drum: Sounds kinda like a euphemism for doing the horizontal mambo, if you catch my drift, but it’s kinda slick. Sounds like rain drops, from what I can tell, or people of every shape and size doing the “S. S. Lollipop” thing with the finger in the mouth. You know what I mean? I’ll demonstrate next time I see you.
• Banjolin: Either a banjo-sized instrument that lacks a banjo’s drumhead body, or a mandolin-sized instrument that includes the drumhead body. I think it’s the latter, but it’s hard to tell. You’d think they’d’ve just, ya know, picked a mandolin or banjo, one or the other. MAKE UP YOUR MINDS!
• Resonator Guitar: I think it’s basically a dobro without the raised strings. Like, a regular acoustic, but with that weird metal thing in the body that makes all the strings sound like they’re mounted on rattly springs. Somehow it works.
• Foot Tapping: Really. It’s listed as an instrument played by Kevin Breit on “Above Ground.”
• Box: I’d like to pretend that this is some kind of neat name for a percussion instrument with all kinds of sticks and drumheads and electronic doohickeys, but from what I can tell Andrew Borger just tapped on a cardboard box with his fingers. Seriously.
• Norah Farting Into An SM58: Just kidding. But after the Foot Tapping and Box, I wouldn’t’ve been too surprised.

Anyhoo, if you get a chance to pick it up, you’ll find your foot tapping along nicely with track 1, “Sunrise,” which you may have seen videos for on VH1 or CMT. Most of the next 7 are unremarkable, but I’ve listened to track 9, “Humble Me,” approximately 1,348,487 times in the last 3 days. A tasty morsel of the lyrics:

What do you say when it’s all gone away?
Baby, I didn’t meant to hurt you.
Truth spoke in whispers will tear you apart,
No matter how hard you resist it.
It never rains when you want it to . . .

You humble me Lord
Humble me Lord
I’m on me knees empty
You humble me Lord
You humble me Lord
Please, please, please forgive me

The verses are even better, but it’s getting a little dusty here in the Hearn-cube, and the last time my coworkers saw me crying they staged this whole intervention and gave me a tshirt that said “Here comes a special boy!” It sucked.

All right, I guess I better go home and practice my box. I think I’m ready to go into the studio with it, but I wanna make sure I’m playing with feeling. (I’m working my way up to cowbell.)

Things I’ve been a-pondering:

• Daddy, why did God take an hour of sleep from me this weekend? I needed that hour. I WANTED that hour. It went to October, you say? Those damn commies don’t need my sleep! Slimy fascists!
• Dr. Charles Atkins, despite having keeled over a few years ago with enough grease in his aorta to lube a Hemi, developed one tasty diet. I think I’ve lost 10 pounds or so, and I’m definitely back down to wearing 38×34 pants, which is nice since 40x34s are about as common as a Welsh-speaking Indian. All I eat is meat. Meat, meat, wonderful meat, all the livelong day. Also: cheese.
  • Subtopic: Went to Casablanca for dinner on Saturday, which is probably not on the Atkins plan, despite my eating only two pieces of pita. I sucked down enough eggplant salad that I’m sure an evil carb or two entered my body, where it immediately set to work reinflating my paunch. I also drank a great deal of wine. Oh, Ernest Gallo, you are KILLING me. And I love you for it.
• Baseball season has begun! There were, of course, those two Yankees/Devil Rays games last week that they played in Zimbabwe or Jakarta or something like that, but nobody paid any attention to those. As usual, baseball continues to destroy one of the few remaining interesting things about it: tradition. For something like 8 generations, the Cincinnati Reds opened the season, but no more. Next they’ll do something like say that the American League teams should get to play some National League teams outside of the World Series, or they’ll make a rule that says pitchers no longer have to bat. What a bunch of schmucks we’ve got running America’s Pastime. When I get elected commissioner…well, that’s a whole column, for another time.
  Last night I got to watch the Orioles (the freakin’ ORIOLES?!?!?) demolish the Red Sox, 7-2. Pedro managed to get out of the second, having given up three runs, which was surprising since his ability to throw 98mph fireballs seems greatly diminished. His was definitely at the top of his game when it came to hitting batters in the ribs, though, so at least he’s got that going for him, which is nice.
• I just crossed paths with our diminutive office cleaning lady, and noticed that her Big Rolling Rig of Formula 409 had a large bag of (unused, thank heavens) Tampax-Brand Anti-Leakage Sticks hanging off the side. What’s this all about? The chicks get name-brand menstrual products in their john, and all the guys get is this horribly unabsorbent, gritty toilet paper? I go in there to deliver the Parcel Post, end up having to sand my rectum 11 times, and come out feeling like my gentleness is on fire, walking back to my cubicle like I just got a Tabasco enema. THIS IS SO NOT COOL.
• My inability to awake in the morning has been getting really, really bad lately. Last night we hit the sack at around 10pm; I watched baseball for a while, but finally turned off the TV around 10:30 and rolled over. I actually fell asleep pretty quickly, and was looking forward to getting a solid 8 hours, getting up at 7, and then actually making it in to work by 8 am for the first time in, I think, EVER. What time did I wake up? Around 8, and only because Sarah was freaking out because our psycho-hose-beast cat peed all over the bathroom floor again. I’m going to try and get to bed early again tonight, but unfortunately there’s an NCAA Men’s Basketball Championship game on tonight that I probably shouldn’t miss if I want to continue being considered marginally male. I predict I’ll be up by around noon tomorrow, just in time to take a nap and call it a day. I work hard, after all.
• Tonight Sarah and I are planning to clean the dining room (still filled with junk since we moved in almost 4 months ago). Hopefully I won’t be terribly injured, but no guarantees; cleaning and I are diametrically opposed to one another, and tragedy often occurs, usually when I get tired and retire to the TV room with a beer, and Sarah finds me down there and goes upside the head with a broomhandle. Assuming I’m not dead, I’ll be back here later in the week.

Woo! Man, did I get YOU guys! Hahahahahaha!

Okay, I apparently got NOBODY. Lesson learned: do all April Fool’s jokes on October 13th or something. My boy Corey did a hell of better job with his gag, which was convincing everybody that the Harrington Theatre Arts Company was shutting its doors after 30 years.

Oh well. (Note that if young driver Matt Hearn did offer me a lapload of cash for my domain name, I’d sell in a heartbeat. Don’t believe for a minute that just because I seem like such an ethical guy that I’m not, at heart, a gamey manwhore who’d sell his grandmother for 50 grand. (Just kidding, Gam-Gam!)) Hopefully I’ll have time for a nice update this afternoon, but today’s schedule is heavy:

• 11am: meeting.
• Noon: Run over to the Amy E. Dupont Building to see the Brandywine High Blazers (jazz band) play.
• 1pm: meeting until 3 FREAKING O’CLOCK.
• 5-7: drinking. Heavily.
• 7-whenever: Del A Cappella.
• Whenever-whenever: bowling.

I’ll try and write my Atkins Diet column at some point, but no promises! I’m free all weekend, though, so you should expect a quality update (with pictures!) on Monday. Have a superb weekend.

So, um, interesting news. Apparently there’s this guy, also named Matt Hearn, who’s some kind of superstar kid auto racing champion or something. So his dad wants to give him a better website, and he’s sparing no expense, meaning I’m getting enough cash to pay off all my debts and buy a new Harley Sportster 1200 to give up my domain name.

I imagine I could just move all my files to a NEW site, but it seems like a decent time to retire, ya know? I’ll probably keep updating over at Free Range Human, but maybe not. I’ve got a lot going on in my life, and this is just stress I don’t really need. Anyway, they’re not scheduled to take over the domain for another couple weeks, so I’ll just leave this up here by way of thanking my few readers, and wishing them well. Maybe we’ll meet online again someday…maybe not.

Thanks, everybody!