Pam, Bobby, Chris(es) & Tony

I took the Acela Express to Boston today for a conference tomorrow morning…and while I can’t *quite* justify buying trashy magazines for myself for merely a train ride (flying makes me nervous, so my deal with myself is that I get to buy as many celeb rags as I want before I board a plane), I purchased a couple anyway. This week, People did a feature on Victoria Principal…who, as I certainly remember, played Pam on Dallas. Apparently nowadays she is better known for a line of skin care products…and in the People story she explains, “I was giving facials to family members with Crisco and flour from the time I was 8.” (Wouldn’t that clog their pores??)

I used to watch Dallas with my mother when I was little…and I do actually remember being distraught when Pam was in a coma (poor Bobby!)…and being kind of confused when one day she suddenly wasn’t in a coma anymore. My mom had to explain that sometimes actors don’t want to be on shows anymore and so they have to write them out. (I also remember her explaining to me why Klinger wore women’s clothes on M*A*S*H.)

And…really one of the crowning moments of my childhood surely came on a rare trip to see my father. My stepmother must have been talking about how excited she was about an upcoming episode of Dallas because my little four year-old self chimed in and said, “Yes! I can’t wait to see it either!” and my stepmother said, “Your mother doesn’t let you watch Dallas!” and I said, “Oh, yes, she does…” and my stepmother said, “Fine. What happened in last week’s episode?” expecting me to look at her blankly and say, “I don’t know…” and while I don’t *actually* remember anymore, at the time I was able to regurgitate the episode scene-by-scene (at least in child-speak) and my stepmother had no choice but to let me stay up and watch it with her that night.

Before I left for Boston, I purchased all the ingredients I will need to make peanut butter pie as both my boss and one of his underlings turn 30 this week. The last time I made peanut butter pie, you might recall that I tried to get fancy with the peanut garnish and ended up inadvertently making some risque pies (that looked ever-so-slightly breast-like)…and since my recipe yields two pies, I think I have it this time: I will decorate one with a “3” and one with a “0.” My boss’ birthday isn’t until next weekend…but my oldest childhood friend will be in town and so I won’t be in for the latter half of the week…and while I *could* theoretically pop in on Friday and “show” her the office and “introduce” her to my coworkers, I’m not sure she’d really be into that…and there really isn’t any point to having a pie sit around my house all week.

(I caught the end of the Cubs/Braves game tonight…and saw a Felix Pie up at bat!)

I *also* watched part of The Next Food Network Star…and think I could probably get addicted to it if I had cable…(although I did feel bad for the ones who looked especially nervous…and I had trouble watching them…)

Sadly, my hotel room does not have HBO and so I missed The Sopranos finale…but this morning – back in my apartment in Brooklyn – I heard a woman upstairs talking about trying to procure pork products. There are a bunch of people staying with the woman who lives upstairs…and they’re all very Brooklyn. So imagine a very Brooklyn accent saying, “I tried to get pork skin! No one has pork skin! I asked the butcher, ‘Where’s the pork skin? Why don’t you have pork skin?’ and he says, ‘It’s the Sopranos finale…and everybody’s fuckin‘ Italian.'”

(I don’t know how I feel about swearing on my blog…and apologize if you took offense…but, if anything, the Sopranos was known for salty language…so consider that my little tribute to Tony.)

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