Patrick sits down on a Sunday to have a little hang with you, the loyal listener. Patrick gabs with the chat a bit, as there’s quite a bit going on that’s grinding his gears. Patrick is sipping on Starbucks coffee, which he had delivered. He’s aware that this is the epitome of white girl privilege, but that’s how he rolls. Brad is sick, and has cost a fortune in emergency vet bills. Her digestion isn’t running smoothly, and Patrick is worried about his white tiles and grout standing up to doggie brownie batter. Patrick is thinking about possibly attacking his swim spa salesman, who has misled and pressured him with sleazy sales tactics and is now saying it will be 9 more months before Patrick will be swimming. And of course, there’s more Thai Rivera updates than you could possibly want. We are tired of this little garbage fire, too. But it’s so hard to look away from a car crash, especially right when it’s about to burst in to flames. In this episode, we cover a bunch more lies by Vegas’s little hate magnet, and watch a recent podcast he did with a local open mic hottie. BAZINGA!
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