I don’t get up in the morning and watch Chinese yoga on TV. I don’t eat sweet pickles. I don’t shake down old people for change. I’ll tell you another thing I don’t do: get excited by VH1’s new look.
You’ll never see me trying to train an octopus to play the drums. Nor will you see me snowboard. You could follow me around for the rest of my life and you wouldn’t catch me using a mellon-baller. Not if I lived for a million years.
I don’t floss, yodel, or collect driftwood. I don’t punch bears. I don’t look up at the sky and cry out, “Lord, why has Denzel Washington forsaken me?!”
You might wonder if I ever play that game where I sit on the floor and throw playing cards into a hat. Well, wonder no more. I don’t.
You know what else I don’t do? I don’t trip over my own feet while walking down the sidewalk and then look back at the spot where I tripped as if to announce with great offense, “hey, wait a minute, everyone--there’s something on the ground back there that trips people. It is not just me being uncoordinated.”
I don’t carry things around in a fanny pack. I don’t even know what a fanny pack is. So in that sense, maybe I do sometimes carry things in a fanny pack, but only because I am unaware of what I am doing. I would try to find out what a fanny pack is, and then avoid carrying things around in one, but I am not one to investigate what fanny packs are. That is just something I won’t do.
And I don’t take kindly to people who feed pigeons, unless the people feeding the pigeons are terminally ill or retarded. But that’s a given.
Sincerely,
Pat Freestone
August 10, 2004
Things I’d Do Once by Pat Freestone
If you ask me, there are some things in this world that are worth doing once, and only once. Like getting married, or making love to a beanbag chair, or visiting Carlsbad Caverns.
I’d like to try my hand at scuba diving, or rock climbing, or even hang-gliding. But only once. And then I’d leave all that to people who actually enjoy such foolishness.
I’d like to, just once, slap Leeza Gibbons upside the head as hard as humanly possible.
Someday, I’d like to make one of those giant submarine sandwiches. You know the kind—the ones that are about eight to ten feet long and stacked high with ham and turkey and tomatoes and provolone. I’d invite the neighbors to come by and help themselves. I’d say, “hey, dig in! There’s plenty here for everybody!” Then I would never do that again.
And maybe—just maybe—I will someday play Pink Floyd’s entire Dark Side of the Moon album while watching The Wizard of Oz, to see if they snyc up, like people say they do.
I would try that once without thinking twice.
Pat Freestone
August 16, 2004
Now, where was I? Oh yes.
Things I might do. by Pat Freestone
I might make a To Do list and include the item “update To Do list” at the bottom. Then I will always have something to do.
I might give you a sideways look. I might pretend not to see you. I might just walk right up to you and kiss you on the face. You never know what I might do.
From time to time, I might purchase a bag of chocolates from a gourmet grocery. I might fix myself a turkey and pickle sandwich. I might want to sample some of your delicious homemade lemon squares.
But I might show you my dark side, like the way I occasionally conduct an elaborate black magic ritual to put a curse on Paris Hilton that will make her bloat up like a poison toad on her thirty-third birthday. I might invite you to dine with me at Outback Steakhouse and then show up drunk out of my mind, with my face adorned with a terrifyingly garish henna tattoo. The way I feel some days, I might even let a honey bee sting me just to watch him die.
Will I continue to hide this side of me from you? I might.
Or I might not.
Pat Freestone
August 17, 2004
What I do. by Pat Freestone
Let me tell you just exactly what it is I do.
I am a card-carrying, tequila-drinking, crack-smoking, nearsighted harbinger of the Apocalypse who was born to rock. And I also work in a video store Monday through Friday from 2pm to midnight and sometimes Saturday.
I provide entertainment to the Yonkers area in the form of VHS and DVD rentals. I answer questions. I offer suggestions. I make change.
I also enforce the laws of video rental, which includes making sure all VHS cassettes are rewound by the customer. Failure to abide by this clearly posted stipulation results in a $1.50 penalty charged to the customer’s account. I am the one who imposes this surcharge. It is not open to discussion.
I do, however, occasionally waive the non-compliant rewinding penalty, late fees, or missing and/or damaged rental charges at my discretion. I reserve the right to offer special discounts to customers who demonstrate financial hardships or obvious and pitiful handicaps. These special offers will occasionally include complimentary Butterfinger BBs to well-behaved minority children under the age of seven. I may be a harbinger of the Apocalypse, but I am not without a soft spot.
That’s just what I do.
Pat Freestone
August 18, 2004
For today, let’s just pretend for a minute that I can say this with a straight face: Enough about me.
Let’s talk about you.
That Thing You Do By Pat Freestone
You start the day with a good old-fashioned waking up from sleep. You didn’t sleep great last night. You slept okay.
You’re really hungry today! You could just sit down and eat a whole plate of French toast and still have room for a few Bear Claws. You could really go for a latte. In theory, you hate Starbucks—but you go there anyway. You dig that buzz.
You’ve had it up to here with Bush. You can’t get really excited about Kerry, but at least he—oh, look! You got an e-mail from someone who makes you laugh, and with whom you might even want to have sex someday! Awesome!
There is someone higher up than you at work that you would like to see fall down an elevator shaft.
What’s for lunch? You know what sounds good to you? Thai food. But all the Thai food places by you suck. You wish you could go to that one place your friend took you to, but it’s in San Francisco. You are not in San Francisco. If you are, you don’t really feel like Thai food anyway. You could go for a quesadilla from El Farolito!
You wonder about God. What’s the deal with that whole thing? Is there an omnipotent force in the universe that humankind has just historically misunderstood? Or, have you personally made the semi-conscious decision to ignore all religion and sort of absent-mindedly condemned yourself to hell? Or, is God just an invention of the human mind, to cope with the terrifying vastness of a randomly ordered universe? Man, you’re tired today!
You pick at something on you. Your nose, or maybe a cuticle or some dry skin. You wonder if you are drinking enough water.
You like Dolly Parton, Johnny Depp and Snoop Dogg. You don’t like Kathy Lee Gifford, Garfield, or Joe Rogan. You have not made up your mind about Heath Ledger.
You know how you sometimes like to look at Today Inside Pat Freestone Updated Almost Daily? That is one of my favorite things about you.
You rule.
Pat Freestone
August 19, 2004
Just Don’t Do It By Pat Freestone
There are things in this world that you just should not do. Seriously.
For example, you should not feed a dog chocolate. You should not mix ammonia and bleach. And you should never throw a baby at a wall—even in anger.
But there are things that we all do (and when I say “we,” I mean “you”) that we (again, we = you) simply should not do. And I think I’m speaking for everyone with this.
You should not wear low-rise designer jeans simply because you can afford low-rise designer jeans. You should not get a tattoo of your favorite sports team’s logo unless you actually play for your favorite sports team. In that case, go for it and just hope you never get traded.
And, unless you are Dave Chappelle, please don’t be the person who yells out, “I’m Rick James, bitch!” I know it’s tempting when “Superfreak” comes on the jukebox, but please don’t.
Don’t feed pigeons—if they have been fed, they will not be hungry enough to eat the cigarette butts off the sidewalks. Don’t leer at scantily-clad women—no matter how desperately available they are attempting to look. And don’t lie to your doctor. If you can’t be honest with your doctor about your unhealthy habits, then just don’t bother to go at all.
You probably should not have one more beer. You might not want to mess with that scab. And please, for god sake, do not tell your “that time I shit my couch” story while we are having dinner.
To be continued…
Pat Freestone
August 20, 2004
Don’t think I wasn’t intent on continuing with
Just Don’t Do It By Pat Freestone
First of all, don’t act like you didn’t see this coming.
Don’t believe the hype. But don’t stop believing. But please don’t let me be misunderstood--you can still believe in a thing called love. But baby, please don’t go. Don’t go breaking my heart.
Don’t let the sun go down on me. If I wanted something to go down on me, I’d be cruising Washington Avenue right now with twenty dollars and a handful of crack rocks.
Speaking of rocks, don’t rock the boat. If you need to rock something, there are plenty of things that need rocking, like the Casbah or the cradle of love.
Don’t cry out loud. Keep it inside. Learn how to hide your feelings. Don’t stop thinking about tomorrow. Don’t speak—I know what you’re thinking. Don’t worry! Be happy!
And just don’t stand so close to me. You smell like cabbage.
Later,
Pat Freestone
August 23, 2004
You know what's fun? Typing your own name into an internet search! You can find all kinds of people from all over the world who have the same name as
you--unless your name is very unusual, like Rodney Dangerfield or Eustace
Thunderpants.
For example, did you know that there is a schoolteacher named Pat Freestone?
My own fascination with Googling myself continues with a look at a female
Pat Freestone who adopts Indonesian children. Find out more at female Pat Freestone
Pork balls? Olivia Newton John? I'm not making this stuff up!
Pat Freestone
August 26, 2004
I Googled yet another Pat Freestone last night. He seems to be some sort of insane foreigner who really likes Stonehenge. He even wrote this
incoherent, ham-fisted poem about it:
Ode To The Travelers
The new age travelers are coming to Stonehenge again,
Quick get out the helicopters and rows of policemen.
These peace and love people of great mirth
Have come to play and pray on God's good Earth.
Can't Salisbury welcome them with hotdog stands,
Ice-cream stalls, tents and bands?
Lay on loos and flying banners,
Councilors of kindred spirit and good manners.
Come on, let's join in the fun,
Have we really forgotten how it's done?
Put a smile on every face,
Let's all play and pray at this historic place.
by Pat Freestone, Wyndham Road, Salisbury
"Mirth?" "Hotdog stands?" How dare you call yourself a Pat Freestone!
Pat Freestone
August 27, 2004
If you've been following along this week, you've seen some of the many other "Pat Freestones" I've found via the so-called internet. Well this one
unlucky Pat Freestone had better watch his back! I'd sure hate to be him!
