Tag Archives: Patrick

It’s All. About. Patrick.


The Pretentious One - Patrick

As if I ever doubted the fact, it is indeed All. About. Patrick.

The third of about 28 phone calls throughout my day from my dearest friend consisted of the following conversation I was privileged to overhear between Patrick and an unknown caller on his other phone:

Patrick: Hello? Uh huh. Oh. Wow. (This sounds serious, I think to myself.)

After a 30-second pause, I’m getting worried. I’m sure the Patrick is going to say, “Wasn’t anyone HOME with Mom when she fell out of her wheelchair?” or “I never even knew he was SICK.” But no.

Patrick: Well.

(The dreaded flat tone of voice….)

Patrick: Do they have any bearclaws, then.

(NOT a question. A flat-out STATEMENT. Bearclaws???? WTF???)

Patrick: I really wanted a gotdamn apple turnover. Those IDIOTS.

Oh, Patrick.  See what I have to put up with?  I wouldn’t have it any other way, though. (Or would I?)  Naaawww.

"Guncle" Patrick and Felix...

Just look at him with Felix...but I did have to share this apple turnover nuttiness with y’all.  They adore each other. (Felix isn’t wise to Patrick’s cray-crayness yet…he’ll still love him.)

Happy Birthday, Fatboy Slim!

Fatboy Slim!!


Seems I’m taking the stroll down Memory Lane an awful lot lately; complete with the preamble, “why, back in MY day…”.   So, it’s Fatboy Slim’s 48th birthday today.  My BFF Patrick and I went to the Showbox in Seattle (back in 1998, when there was only ONE Showbox–none of this Showbox SODO vs. Showbox at the Market crap). 

If I recall correctly, I was 37, and I think Patrick had just barely hit his early 20’s at the time. It was freezing rain outside of The Showbox.  After a good long shift in the men’s department at Nordstrom where we both worked, off to the club we drove. I swear to this day, I’ve never been so sweaty in All. My. Life.   And the steam from the crowd was visible and strange.


We weren’t packed in like sardines, as much as were were smooshed in like Meeps from Spongebob Squarepants.  I swear, though.  No alcohol (or anything else!) was being ingested (by ME, anyway).  Only WATER. Lots and lots of water…and that was rude of you to insinuate otherwise!

So, yeah.  Happy birthday, Norman Cook!

Harper Seven Beckham! How do we feel about the Beckham Princess’s name?

Yeah. Harper will be a DOLL. Gorgeous, even.

I really kind of dig how David Beckham takes to Facebook to keep all his “close and personal chums” (of which we are, of course…snort!) up-to-date on all things BECKHAM!

Oh, Manchester United....#7

via Facebook:

“I am so proud and excited to announce the birth of our daughter Harper Seven Beckham. She weighed a healthy 7lbs 10oz and arrived at 7.55 this morning, here in LA. Victoria is doing really well and her brothers are delighted to have a baby sister xx

Seven is a very lucky happy number and the baby was born just after 7am, in the seventh month.”

Okay.  We’re all thinking it, so here you go:

Hey, guess what though? David and Victoria can do NO. WRONG.   So don’t even.

Still laughing at the old “Seinfeld“, though.  You know, that NEW show that Patrick just discovered a couple months back?