I'm no celebrity. But, as evidenced by my picture in the paper each week and the fact that I've just hit 300 friends on Facebook, I guess that qualifies as some kind of notoriety.
With such world renown comes great responsibility, though. I'm apparently required to do a few things. Such as:
Get a gerbil-sized dog with a nervous disorder, clothe it in designer outfits and carry it around in a D&G handbag.
Come out with my own clothing line. I'm thinking something like “Sean John meets Big Boy.” Available only at outlet malls in northern Minnesota.
I'll need an exercise video. I was at the mall the other day and saw life-sized posters of Kim Kardashian plugging her workout DVD. And I thought, “Right. That's what she's famous for. Exercise.” But mine will be a low-impact routine targeting middle-aged fathers who hurt their backs getting out of bed. It's called “Just Sit There with Patrick Caneday.”
Of course I'll need a cologne — a companion scent to “Glow” by Jennifer Lopez. Mine is called “Pork.” J. Lo and I will be at the fragrance counter of Macy's this afternoon squirting shoppers in the eye.
And while you're at the mall, look for a poster of me posing with Tiger Woods in a Timex watch ad. Sponsorships have been tough for Tiger lately. I'm doing him a favor.
I will soon be appearing in several Top 10 Lists: Top 10 Farmer Tan Lines, Top 10 Facial Tics and Top 10 Curious Bodily Growths, to name just a few.
I must speak out against some tragic issue facing society. I choose The Senseless Overabundance of Starbucks Coffee Shops in our cities.