I have this recurring celebrity nightmare that involves Pamela Anderson. Wait, does twice count as recurring? Honestly, once was enough to scare the shit out of me. Do you remember when Ms. Anderson published a book, Star: A Novel? I was pissed that it was immediately carried by every store in the universe, even my grocery store. Well, I said a few disparaging things about her to my husband, who defended Pam, telling me that she was a “sweet girl who got mixed up with the wrong people” meaning, of course, that her only mistake was to marry Tommy Lee. Take a moment to let that sink in: my husband chose Pam Anderson over me. Ouch.

In my freaking scary dream, Pam starts trash talking me on talk shows during interviews. Do you know what it’s like to have Oprah gunning for you? Anderson not only tries to turn the public against me, but she also physically threatens me, in  that hard-to-prove way that bullies use: narrowed eyes, lots of  pointing and clenched fists. During one interview she looks right at the camera and, addressing me directly, says with a sneer, “I won’t take that kind of negative talk anymore.”  If she was a real writer she would have found a better way to threaten me.

 

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