The season finale of the instant classic Vanderpump Rules airs tonight. I am devastated. My obsession with the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills spinoff blindsided me. Although SUR (which stands
for “Sexy Unique Restaurant,” naturally) is located approximately 10 miles away from my couch, the show teleports me each week to a world that is so sparkly and opulent and glamorous, I hardly notice that I’m wearing Chicago Bears pajama pants while I watch it.

I dreamed of leaving the job behind. Packing up my office, and walking out with nothing but a smile on my face and a swift slam of the door. And pack up and leave I did, only not because I quit, but because I got laid off.

“I can’t believe this! Look at this! Look at what he got me!”

Before he made O.B.A.M. Nude, a film about the president’s dealings with the devil, before he founded the Hoboken International Film Festival, and before he was squeezed out of his position as a municipal judge for these activities, Ken Del Vecchio was a squat, baby-faced North Jersey lawyer who made B-movies on his off-hours. He was a figure in stories I wrote as a newspaper reporter and when he invited me to the set of his latest movie in 2003, I had to go.