Because it's just such a pain to have to keep watch on your bike when you're busy going down the slide at the playground.

The Globe has a front-page story today about Frank McCourt, his wife, their divorce and how LA hates the pair. I must be the only person in Boston not familiar with Frank McCourt's physiognomy, because the Globe didn't mention it at all while highlighting the Missus's features, right there in the lead:

It was 2001, Frank McCourt had just pitched a roomful of businesspeople on his bold dream to buy the Red Sox and turn 24 acres of pavement he owned on the South Boston Waterfront into a state-of-the-art ballpark. Sensing some resistance to the idea, the silver-haired landowner agreed to sweeten the deal, and was about to offer an enticement when his wife, a blond, slender-framed woman with sharp features, cut him off.

What? No details about McCourt's tight butt, chiseled biceps and alabaster skin? Goose, gander and all that, right?

Meanwhile, the Herald proves it knows the true value of blondes with a wink-wink note about Jack E. Robinson's new PR person, who happens to be "a young blonde," nudge, nudge.

NorthEndWaterfront.com reports on a trifecta of out-of-control parties in the North End, including one on Halloween at 224 Hanover St.:

... College students were throwing bottles and cans down to the street. The police initially had difficulty gaining access when a male dressed in a baby's outfit refused to open the door. BPD eventually gained access and the officers detained 15-20 Suffolk university students. There probably were more at the party which had dispersed as the police entered. ...

Geeky Mama, in the middle of that pre-lottery school hunt unique to Boston parents, is impressed by the Curley School in Jamaica Plain.