Today is a wicked big day in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. It’s the Boston Marathon!

I changed my mind. Don’t keep calm.

Marathon Monday is the kind of wicked awesome day where you wake up, grab your coffee from Dunkies, stop at the packie for a six-pack of Sam Adams which you plan on brown-bagging, then head to the city so you can watch the race. It’s wicked fun.

I’m stuck in New York City so I won’t be watching the marathon. I’d take the Fung Wah bus back to town but it got shut down because apparently it is wicked dangerous. Oh well!

Looks like a bus, operates like a space shuttle.

Got me thinking . . . if I WERE to run the Boston Marathon, which Boston hottie would I want to meet me at the finish line?

Would it be . . . .

Marky Mark?

I’ll get between you and your Calvins and feel the good vibrations.

His brother Donnie?

He’s got the right stuff.

Sam Malone?

He’d buy me a drink at Cheers.

Will Hunting?

He could calculate my marathon splits wicked fast.

Larry Bird?

He’s probably in French Lick, Indiana.

It’s a wicked tough decision! All I know is I would want to jump in the Charles River afterwards because I love that dirty water! Yeah I said it.