Seems that yesterday afternoon after my lunch break, while offering my
seat on the B18 Bus to an elderly lady, I managed to give myself a little
bit of a hernia.
But before you go and say, "that old Pat Freestone--what a cream puff!""
let me point out that I did not get the hernia merely by rising from my
seat. No, the hernia occurred when I reached down to pick up my jar of
Kosher Dills that I had purchased earlier at the Deli.
But, despite my agony, I insisted that the elderly female passenger take
my seat. In fact, I wrestled her down into it. Although I'm sure this
motion did not improve the situation in my abdominal musculature, the
woman did seem to be relieved to finally reach a seated position. At no
point did any of the ridiculously-dressed, smart-mouthed teens sitting
adjacent to us offer a seat to either one of us. That hardly surprises
me. As night manager of a video rental store in downtown Yonkers, I'm no
stranger to the imperturbability of today's youth.
So, as it turns out, I'll be going under the knife tomorrow. My doctor
assures me it will not be a complicated procedure, but I must admit to
being somewhat nervous, as it has been almost ten years since my
appendectomy. I'll be returning home from the hospital on Sunday, and
hope to be back at work--and back with you online!--by Monday. If not, I
have left instructions for Ruth on updating this web site. Please bear
with her--she's new to the world wide web.
I'm sure I'll be fine. I just have a gut feeling. (ha ha)
Ruth will be taking over this week, but be sure to enjoy the return of Pat Freestone next week!
September 16, 2002
Okay--I don't know what you pervs are expecting here, but all I know is that I'm supposed to tell you that Pat is still in the hospital and he won't be back
for a day or two. The doctors found some scissors inside him--I shit you not. I guess they got dropped in there while they were taking out his appendix
back in the 70's or something. He's had this stupid pair of scissors in him THE WHOLE TIME. Anyway, since I'll probably get fired if I don't update this goddamn
thing everyday, I guess I'll see you tomorrow. But don't get your hopes up.
September 17, 2002
Pat's doctor called and said that the surgery to remove the scissors that accidentally got left inside of Pat's body wasn't going so well.
The doc said that over the years some kind of muscle had grown around the scissors and that they had become fused with Pat's spleen or some shit.
Great. Now not only do I have to watch the store by myself all week, but I have to put something up on this lame-ass site every day. Frankly,
I think the internet is fucking retarded. I only use it for e-bay, and even that sucks. So just so you pervs know, starting tomorrow I plan on posting some of my
ex-boyfriend's crap up here to sell. So if you don't want to buy anything, log onto some titty site or something until next week.
Right now I'm gonna
go smoke a bowl.
Smell ya later,
September 18, 2002
Pat called the store fifty times yesterday. I guess he's not dead. But he sounded like shit and wasn't making any sense so I made him put the doctor on the phone.
The doc said they got the scissors out, but Pat has to stay in the hospital until Friday, which means he won't be back here at work until at least Monday.
They had to cut the pair of scissors out of Pat's guts like in the movie Alien or something. Gross.
Anyway, I'm selling some of my ex-boyfriend Larry's stupid crap (see below). If you want to buy anything, DON'T e-mail me because I'm not reading through
any more e-mails. I got enough marriage proposals from you pervs this week already. Just come down to the store with CASH ONLY. Larry, if you're reading this,
don't come down here to get your junk back or I'll get Darnell the big-ass brother who lives upstairs to beat the shit out of you, you limp dick little wuss.
I'm serious you asshole.
$100 for this guitar. Maybe you can figure out how to play "Dream On" better than lame-ass Larry ever could.
5 bucks for Aerosmith back when they still got wasted and made decent rock music.
Here is Larry's entire DVD collection, and his only video game. I'll take $40 for the whole deal. I kind of wish now that I hadn't thrown his Playstation
out the window the night he came home with a hickey.
September 19, 2002
Pat called all day yesterday. He's more annoying on the phone than he is when he's here in person. I still couldn't understand him, so he's going
to send a note tomorrow to explain what the hell he's been yelling about for the past two days. I can't believe he had a pair of scissors in his body for ten years!
What a geek! Anyway, here's some more of my ex-boyfriend's stuff that I'm selling.
Larry's standard outfit, complete with Birkencocks. Name your price.
Comic book toys and Keanu doll from the Matrix. $10. By the way, did I mention that Larry is 40 years old?
This walkman works. I can't say the same for these tired-ass TRL CDs. I'll go $35 for everything.
Another one of Larry's toys. $12. Why did I date him? Trust me, it wasn't penis size, that's for sure. Let's just say that Ketel One and a
mild eating disorder give a girl some dumb ideas.
Okay, so Pat's gonna be back Monday. Thank god. And thanks to the two kids who bought all Larry's shit except for the clothes.
Larry, if you want your clothes back, I suggest you check in the septic tank of the construction site Port-A-Potty on Richards Avenue.
Oh yeah--here's the note Pat sent after his scissor surgery.
Free at last,
Welcome Back Pat Freestone!
Septmeber 23, 2002
Easy...easy! Slow. Moving slowly. Slowly picking up the computer mouse from the--oooooohhhh--floor. Careful. Careful. Not bending at the waist.
Lifting with the legs. Bending at the knees.
Okay. Okay. Standing up. Almost there, almost there...good. Turning slightly. Baby steps. Not leaning against counter.
Not letting stomach bump against counter or cash register drawer. Good. Good.
Now. Must resist urge to scratch sutures. Sutures coming out Thursday, must not scratch. Must not give deep, satisfying scratch to
maddeningly itchy sutures. Fighting urge to repeatedly dig fingernails into unbelievable itch on recently sewn abdomen. Fighting...keep fighting...
Think about something else...think. Occupy mind. Yes--reorganize work space. Step one: re-face bills in register drawer. Do not let register
drawer bump against sutures when NO SALE key is pressed. Pressing NO SALE key. Familiar bell sound. Mind occupied. Drawer open. Sutures safe.
Time to reverse anti-bill-facing trend started by Ruth. Must "un-Ruth" the bills. Un-Ruthing the bills now. Tens done, moving onto fives. Fives done,
moving onto singles. Un-Ruthing singles, un-Ruthing singles..done. Shutting drawer. Slowly. SLOWLY! Done.
Phone ringing! Customer calling! Business as usual. Show must go on. Need to reach over to phone. Need to answer with prompt courtesy. Careful...careful.
AAAAAAAAAAGH!! Reaching not possible, must step closer to phone. Stepping. Gently...gently. Ring four. Almost there. Ring five. Almost there. Ring six.
Slowly...slowly...ring seven...reaching...customer hung up. Not good.