I know she enjoys 70's style Mrs.Roeper (from Three's Company) perms.
Obviously, she's single. If she had a man in her life, how would she be able to keep 24/7 tabs on all of us apartment dwellers?
Oh yeah, and Pat lies. I'll write another post later about some of her classic fibs.
One time while dropping off my maintenance fees, I noticed on her kitchen counter she had a professional set of binoculars. I am forced to conclude that PAT ALWAYS KNOWS EVERYTHING. She can't have much to do, so she just sits in front of her window, watching, judging, look at the baby look at the baby.
Another time I ran into her as she was on her way out- she said she was catching a matinee of "Paul Blart: Mall Cop" so I'm forced to believe that the saucy little minx has an OUTRAGEOUS sense of humour (sarcasm).
P.s I'm trying to get a picture of Pat, but she's an elusive motha fuckaaaaa! Spotting her is like catching a glimpse of an ivory billed woodpecker (nearly extinct). However there's a few telltale signs to watch for and they include: being followed by her tiny black poodle LG ("Little Guy"- seriously, thats it's name), turquoise stretchy pants and sweatshirts featuring scenes such as wolves howling at the moon or a simple crochet knit, a eerie feeling in the pit of your stomach that you are in the presence of a troll, gremlin, goblin or another such mythical creature of beauty. Looking at her in the face is like a contradiction. How can something be so angry and fearsome, yet so beautiful? That's Pat.