AND THE TROGDOR COMES IN THE NIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT!

This gentleman is Frank Paul, aka BikerFox. I think we can all agree that he is hell of foxy, not to mention super-soxy. In lieu of a column today, I want everybody to go to his website and read all of it, including the story of his miraculous weight loss, his invention of the front flip off a mountain bike, and the many, many wonderful pictures of this gorgeous specimen of a man.

A few highlights:

• The “Oops, You Surprised Me While I Was Getting Onto My Bike (But Doesn’t My Ass Look Scrumptious?)!” shot.
• The “I Feel Pretty” shot.
• And last, but CERTAINLY not least, a shot that I like to call “MARY MOTHER OF GOD PLEASE MAKE IT STOP.”

Also: GO RED SOX. I would plan on being prepared to read something tomorrow about tonight’s game. It may be the most important thing you read this month, other than the recommended dosage on your Xanax prescription.

To quote a favorite movie, what in the Wide World of Sports is a-goin’ on outside? It’s colder than a Fairbanks February (yay for hyperbole!) outside this morning. There was frost on the cars. FROST. The crazy lady on the radio said something about it being 34 degrees outside. In October? How am I supposed to work under these conditions? I’m glad I had already turned the heat on, or else I’d still be huddled under my blankets, trying to figure out a way to shower without getting out of bed.

Other than the frigid cold, we had a nice weekend, despite the fact that we got nothing done. This was going to be the weekend we cleaned out the basement, put up Halloween decorations, maybe did some vacuuming. The only thing we did was hang a couple light-up halloween pumpkins in the front window.

Friday night we decided to try the relatively-new Japanese place in the shopping center by our house: Sake. It’s very similar to your standard “Hibachi,” except that the food is better, and there’s no bar. On the other hand, they give you free sake, or hot rice wine. It’s very similar in taste and potency to grain alcohol. We declined a second carafe because, after sharing the first one, Sarah kept trying to shave off her own eyebrows with the chopsticks, and I developed 1) a taste for human flesh and 2) the ability to speak fluent Japanese, which lasted a few hours.

As usual, Sarah had plenty of leftovers, and I had inhaled every morsel of food that came within 18 inches of my gaping maw, so we spent Friday night sitting in front of the TV watching things we had DVR’d.

Saturday morning I had to get up and decommission a remote server for work, so I did that, and played a few games of baseball on the PS2 (I overcame being down 2 games to 1 in the NLDS against the Giants, winning two games behind the hot pitching of Rick Shanley (1-1, ERA 1.45) and the rad batting of Matt Hearn (2 HR, .555BA)). I even got the spirit in me to go for a quick run, and decided to go for speed, managing to run a mile in 9:30, which is the fastest I’ve run since high school. I may have had a mild heart attack in the 7th minute, but it didn’t deter me, because I’m not very bright.

Around noon we headed over to Brandywine High for Homecoming, what with us being alumni thereof and whatnot. We watched the band march, and they looked extremely rad. The tubas could have been louder, but then, I guess I’m just used to the Tubalonic Triumvirate that was Waffy, Hobbit, and Doob, circa 1995, when we were so loud that competition judges would leave the field sobbing, blood streaming from their ears, and we would laugh at them and their children.

Our girl Amanda Tomasetti was crowned Homecoming Queen, to which I reply: w00t.

Sarah’s mom had walked over to the game from her house, so we drove her home and stopped in to see the in-laws, and then headed to the Booth’s Corner Farmer’s Market, where yet again we wished we had camera phones. Some enterprising woman was actually wandering around the place with the video camera, I assume to record the hair and clothing styles. I swear, it’s like the population of Boothwyn simply is unaware that there were advances in style after 1982.

We stopped for dinner at our favorite little restaurant, and then we bought some meat and some Halloween decorations that we expect to put up in time for next year.

Then we headed to Target, where we bought various birthday-type presents for people, and I found two totally rad shirts: a nifty multi-color vertically-striped dress shirt, and a 100% cotton white French-cuff dress shirt, for which I had been looking for a while, and which was for sale for the bargain price of $19.99. I just have to have Sarah’s mom take it in a bit, because I had to buy an XL in order to get it around my massive neck, and thusly the body of the shirt has roughly twice the amount of fabric that it really needs.

I also bought a winter hat.

Saturday night we sat around, not cleaning the basement. At one point we went out and purchased 6 junior bacon cheeseburgers from Wendy’s. I ate all of them, minus the buns. I love food so much.

On Sunday, we got up and made our way to church, after which we headed over to the Corner Bistro for a goodbye lunch for Jill, who is moving to San Francisco at the end of the month to be with her hot mans, John, and work for Visa. I love the Bistro: I managed to be carb-friendly with my omelet sampler and bacon, but then they insisted I have dessert, so I ate a piece of peanut butter pie and went into a sugar coma for roughly 3 hours. Really, the only word to describe it is ::drools::.

We spent our evening not cleaning up the basement, interspersed with video gaming, a jog, Sarah studying (by which I mean she’s preparing for a test, not that I was examining her for moles or something), and the roasting of a thick sirloin steak that was ::drools::.

Next weekend: definitely cleaning out the basement.

Uh oh . . . Emily sent me a survey! Guess what that means! It’s time for all of y’all to edumacate yourselves about the B.A.M.F. that is MATT HEARN. Let’s begin.

• What time do you get up?

  It varies. If I get to bed at midnight, I’m usually up around 8. If I manage to finish up all the silly crap I do in the evenings and get to bed by 10, I’m usually up by around 8. Today, for example, I stayed up until 11:30 watching the Red Sox pitchers crap all over the mound, so I was up at about 7:55.

• If you could eat lunch with one person, who would it be?

  Probably God, if He counts as a person, and since I make up the rules, I say He does. I figure somewhere between the salad and the entree, I’d just reach across the table, grab Him by the shoulders, shake Him for a few seconds, and scream “CAN WE GET SOME RESPONSE OUT OF YOU? Please? A burning bush, something, ANYTHING. Just let us know you aren’t dead. Thanks.”

• Gold or silver?

  Silver. My skin and hair coloring don’t work well with gold, and I think you have to be either really Italian or really trashy to pull off wearing a lot of gold.

• What was the last film you saw at the cinema?

  Jackass, sometime back in 1999 or 2000. I haven’t been to a movie theater since, and honestly haven’t really missed it. There’s nothing that’s been released in the last 5 years that I would be willing to pay $9 to see, although there have been countless times I’ll see a trailer and say, “Ooh, gotta go see that!” And then I just don’t.

• What is/are your favorite TV show(s)?

  Based on what I bother to snag with my DVR, I’m a fan of the Simpsons, Joey, Scrubs, Will and Grace, Futurama, and Days of Our Lives. Though technically we record the last one for Sarah. I am a huge Family Guy fan, but the DVR doesn’t bother to get those because we have every episode on DVD.

• What do you usually have for breakfast?

  If I have time, 4-6 eggs and 4-6 pieces of bacon. If I don’t have time, I try and scarf down a yogurt and some carb-free chocolate milk. If I’m hungover, I stop at McDonalds and get 8 or 9 bacon-egg-and-cheese-biscuits that I eat throughout the morning.

• Who would you hate to be stuck in a room with?

  Someone who feels very strongly that John Kerry is the right man to lead the United States, and has a book of statistics proving so.

• What is your middle name?

  Danger.

• Beach, City or Country?

  This is a toughie. Each has its merits; I love going to the beach, but the high prices and crowds tend to drive me a little insane. Also, there’s not a lot of work for UNIX Engineers at the beach, since the sand plays hell with the cooling fans. I like the city a good bit, for the culture and public transportation and easy access to Thai food, but again the high prices and crowds of people turn me off. Ideally, I’d live on a big ranch with a lot of acreage, preferably in the middle of Central Park, but with a big fence and lots of shotguns to keep joggers out.

• Favorite ice cream?

  Anything with about 8 tablespoons of Hershey’s Syrup on top of it. And no nuts, I hate nuts. Except peanuts, those are delish.

• What’s your favorite quote?

  I’m gonna go with this one that Jared said to me on instant messenger this morning:

  “Nothing is worse than being sick with an annoying phlegmy cough and letting out a big cough that launches a green ball of s*** out of your mouth and onto your leg/desk/keyboard.”

  Gross.

• Which would you prefer to buy: shoes, purses, makeup or bath products?

  Shoes. Definitely. Mainly because you didn’t list “Stereo components,” I don’t wear makeup, I don’t take baths, and the one man-purse I own is all I need, man.

  Also, I really dig shoes, and I need a couple more pairs of brown ones. Better hoof it to Rugged Wearhouse!

• Price not considered, what kind of car would you drive?

  1970 Chevrolet Chevelle SS with the 454 big block. Probably something in a racy orange or red. With doilies on the seats.

• Favorite sandwich?

  Whichever one is on my plate when I sit down at the table. I’m partial to anything with a lot of roast beef or turkey or egg salad, and as long as it’s got some American cheese and a crapload of mayonnaise, I’ll eat it.

  Mmmm . . . crapload of mayonnaise.

• What characteristic(s) in people do you despise?

  Sitting in the left lane while not passing anyone. I think it should be punishable by death.

• Favorite flower?

  The little lace ones on the front of brassieres. They smell great, even if the joy is momentary ’cause the brassiere’s owner usually ruins the moment with a blast of pepper spray and a swift foot to the jumblies.

• If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would you go?

  I think I’d like to spend a week at a resort in the Caymans. With Jude Law.

• Favorite brand of clothing?

  Old Navy. They size everything large so my 38″ waist can wear 36″ pants. I love it.

  Also they make excellent manbags.

• Where would you retire to?

  I wouldn’t want to be far from my family, but probably Texas. It’s nice there, lots of space and cattle. I love cows.

• Favorite day of the week?

  Today! Just kidding. Friday, probably, depending on whether or not I go on-call that weekend.

• What did you do for your last birthday?

  I don’t remember, which is hardly surprising. I think we probably had a party at the house, and I probably took off my pants.

• Where were you born?

  Upper Darby, PA. I think there’s a shrine to me there now. Or at least one of those blue and yellow “This famous Pennsylvanian was born here and later went on to fame and fortune as a professional Clodagh Rogers impersonator” signs.

• What’s your favorite color?

  I like blue. Do you?

• Favorite sport to watch?

  Probably football, although auto racing and baseball are equally enjoyable. I’m also partial to women’s billiards. Jeannette Lee will be my 6th wife.

• Who do you least expect to send this back to you?

  Uh . . . this question is only appropriate in an email. This is not an email. I am thusly ignoring this question. It never happened. Do you hear me? IT NEVER. HAPPENED.

• Person you expect to send it back first?

  See, what we have here, is a failure to communicate.

• What fabric detergent do you use?

  I think we go with Tide, most of the time. HW handles the laundry duties at the house. I’m in charge of making sure the DVR records Days of Our Lives and ER, changing cat litter, and downloading porn.

• Coke or Pepsi?

  For many years, I drank Coke. Even now, I prefer regular Coke to regular Pepsi. However, Diet Coke is similar in flavor to automatic transmission fluid, so most of the time nowadays I drink caffeine-free diet Pepsi.

• Are you a morning person or a night owl?

  I have an easier time staying up late than I do getting up early, so I guess night owl is the proper response. In reality I’d be happiest if I had time to sleep 10 to 12 hours per day.

• Favorite restaurant

  Whichever restaurant I happen to find myself in when the food is served. At this point in my life, I will eat just about anything, but I’m partial to good prime rib. Harry’s Savoy is a top pick for the best beef, although Sullivan’s does a pretty good Porterhouse. I haven’t been to Walter’s in a while, but I remember that as being tasty also.

• What is your shoe size?

  It depends largely on the maker, because different shoe companies have different views on width. If I can find something sufficiently wide (EE or greater), I wear about an 11-1/2, or a 12. If I have to buy a fairly narrow width I’ve been known to wear a 14.

  I probably wear a ladies 14 or 15, which is challenging to find, and expensive.

• Do you have any pets?

  Four psychotic, chain-smoking cats: Pete, Poly, JD, and Veronicat, aka The Cheat.

Don’t you feel hell of educated now?

WhoooooooooEEEEEEE did we have fun in Boston this weekend! And we thank all of our friends and enemies that knew we weren’t going to be home for three days and didn’t come over to steal our stuff. That was kind of you.

Day One: or, Why New York Drivers Are Retarded Cognitively Deficient

Last Thursday, we snuck out of work at around noon and met Sarah’s mom at the Three Little Bakers’ Dinner Theatre, where we watched our friend Nora play “Lola” in Damn Yankees, which was Highly Rad and Entertaining. (I also ate the first of many high-carb products that were sucked down all weekend like wingnuts into a shopvac.) I left the theater confused over who’s giving whom “the pain,” what that has to do with the Mambo, and why anybody would feel the need to say “Erp” about any of this.

Next, we headed home to pack up Sarah’s car with the basic necessities:

• Clothing
• Camera
• Manbag
• Our fat butts

and we got on the road. It was a pretty difficult drive; the traffic wasn’t TOO horrific (since we didn’t leave until close to 6pm), but unfortunately there was a lot of construction.

I also discovered that people in the section of I-95 that runs through the Bronx have very interesting ideas about when it is proper to come to a complete stop in the left lane of a 55mph freeway. I almost got us sandwiched between a Lincoln and some kind of large van because the van was following me rather closely, and the driver of the Lincoln noticed that cars roughly 2 miles in front of him were tapping their brakes, so he decided to simply stop and get his bearings. Bad times all around, although luckily I avoided subjecting us to ghastly and visceral deaths. So I guess there’s a silver lining.

We arrived in Framingham at around midnight, entered our friend Lynn’s righteous abode, had a beer each, and then were asleep before our heads hit the pillows (which leaves a nastier bruise than one might imagine when one’s head is 6’3″ from the ground and the pillow is only the thickness of an airbed from the floor).

Day Two: or, How are your nipples doing?

We awoke the next morning, bathed, got our bearings, and immediately went to the mall.

Hey, I needed a Red Sox visor.

Unfortunately, NOBODY had one. Even “Bob’s,” which had a wing o’ Red Sox paraphernalia the size of a Pep Boys, had no visors. Roughly 300 kinds of hats in all colors, of course, but hats tend to sit on the top of my head like beanies, because my skull is large and misshapen. We tried 3 or 4 different shops, and had no luck.

So we said to hell with that joint and headed into Beantown. We hit a little traffic at a toll, because apparently EZ-Pass is a relatively new thing up there. I swear, for every car that had EZ-Pass, there were roughly 400 that did not, all clogging up the coin lanes. They were so far backed up that even those of us that wanted to simply speed through the express lanes couldn’t GET to them.

This is a far cry from home, where the number of people who actually have to pay change at tolls is fairly low, roughly the same as the number of people that can’t figure out how to use the self-checkout lanes at grocery stores. (And it should be known that I hate all of you, because you caused Kmart to actually GET RID of their self-checkout lines because they discovered that roughly 50% of their customers had the mental capacity of a plate of deep-fried sheep testicles, and it was costing them more to keep employees standing around to help morons with the touch-sensitive screens than it was to simply have staffed checkout lines. Not that I’m bitter.)

We got into Brighton with relative ease, even found a free parking spot on the street Emily suggested we use, and found a most excellent Thai restaurant where we got lunch specials and drank a bottle of Beringer white zinfandel. It was pretty good, albeit very sweet; it was kind of like high class Thunderbird, if you can imagine. The food was excellent as well; I had sesame beef and scarfed it down. (See also: wingnuts vs. shopvac.)

Then we hopped on the T to ride down to Fenway Park. I’m all about the T. It was easy to use, reasonably fast (it took about 25 minutes to get downtown, and it probably would’ve taken us that long to drive there, plus another 20 minutes to find a spot, plus we would have been paying something like $847 to park downtown, plus one of us would have had to remain sober so we could get back home, so spending $1.25 apiece on the T was an absolute bargain), and the friendly driver was able to explain to us out-of-town yokels how to stick our money in the machine.

The only real downside to it is that every time someone mentioned “the T” I thought of the transvestite in “Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil” who also had something s/he referred to as “My T.” (If you’re not getting my drift, let’s just say that his/her “T” was usually tucked in a very uncomfortable place.) There was a lot of involuntary shuddering at train stops this weekend.

Once we got down towards Fenway, we quickly found a Store 24 so I could buy a disposable camera, since I forgot to get the digital out of the car, and also because I knew I couldn’t come to Boston and not visit a Store 24. We also found some street vendors who sold me a sexy blue visor with a big red B on the front, and found some vintage looking hat for Hearnwife. I got some wild pictures of the outside of Fenway park that I hope to get developed this week and get posted. (I did later get some shots with the digital camera, mostly of the Boston Half Marathon, which I will cover tomorrow.)

Emily told us we should just head over to a bar nearby and watch the game from there, and she would meet us there after she got out of work. So we went into Jillian’s, where we drank the first of several dozen beers, and met a very nice fellow named Leo who

• informed us that he was turning 40 the following weekend,
• had a penchant for needling people,
• seemed to have a fun level of extreme violence simmering somewhere below the surface,
• became pathologically interested in the fact that a woman at a nearby table was wearing braces, and eventually went over to talk to her and got shot down like a WWII Messerschmitt, and,
• when Emily finally arrived, asked her without preamble: “So how are your nipples?” and then collapsed in a fit of raucous laughter.

We found him highly entertaining, and we all bought drinks for each other for several hours, until Leo finally left around the 7th inning. Luckily, we only had to go without entertainment for an inning or so, until two random fellows showed up who were EXTREMELY amused to meet people from Delaware. They had a lengthy argument about whether or not there were towns in Massachusetts named “Delaware” and, inexplicably, “Florida.” One of them was named Ryan, that’s about all I remember of them.

Sarah and I also took the opportunity to call Brian from the bar and make him put his son on the phone so that we could wish him a happy birthday. He told Sarah he loved her, so she got a little teary for a while. (As I recall, he had no interest in talking to me. Hardly surprising. I’m scary.)

The game itself was WILD. After Mike Timlin let the A’s tie it up, the mood in the bar changed DRASTICALLY, but it wasn’t like what would have happened in a Philadelphia bar. It was odd. In Philly, the fans would have simply started ordering drinks and just pretended the game wasn’t happening at all. In Boston, the fans were still riveted to the TV, albeit with the feeling of universal gloom that Red Sox fans know well. Truly bizarre.

After Ortiz hit the walk-off winner, everybody went nuts. Luckily, there wasn’t a riot in the streets or anything; everybody was just really happy. Drunk, but not violent drunk. It ruled.

We headed over to Legal Seafood, where we were informed there would be a 40 minute wait, so I went ahead and bought a dozen Krispy Kremes and looked over the new games at an Electronics Boutique. We actually got seated in under 15 minutes. I then polished off a lobster and a plate of clams and mussels, along with a portion of a bottle of wine.

I think we ate most of the Krispy Kremes on the T back to Emily’s apartment. Tomorrow: the startling conclusion! (Days three and four. There’s not actually anything startling, really, unless you consider 3-12 hours of liberal politics startling.)