While in Vegas, taking in as many sites as possible is always best; Adele if you recently robbed a bank, The Beatles’ Love for your soul, and Danny Pellegrino any chance you can get.
Not in the know my doll? It’s a Housewives thing, as in the Real ones. Those of us who disengage our brains through the dysfunctional women of Bravo also take it a step further listening to Danny Pellegrino’s podcast dish on their shenanigans each week. The man is our hilarious, over-the-top best friend who says what we’re all thinking and is spot on when it comes to housewives served grilled.
His mom is Linda Pellegrino so there’s that. He talks about her often. I know we’d be friends. She likes a beautifully set table as well.
Danny and I happen to be in Vegas simultaneously because Middle Chicken had a new babe and Danny birthed a new book and just so happened to be at the B & N doing a book signing.
Me: “Think I should go? I think I should go. Will you be alright if I go?”
Middle Chicken: “If I could walk, I’d go. You have to go. Go.” Lawyer Boy, husband of Middle Chicken, encourages her to join me, demonstrating the fundamental difference between giving birth 48 hours earlier and watching said birth.
It may be the first book signing event for this particular B & N. I figure an hour should ensure my place in the Danny fandom line. The parking lot is not overfull. Neither is the store and the girl behind the counter certainly is not matching my enthusiasm.
Me: “Do you know where the book signing is?”
She: “Ummm. I think it’s back there.” Girlfriend, wipe that disdain off your face. She obviously does not appreciate Danny’s reach or perhaps she’s so wrapped up in her fantasy, vampire, shape-changer novels she’s lost the ability to communicate properly. Call me Karen.
Me: “Which way?” I’m messing with her now. I gesture vaguely, imitating her.
She: Sighs. “The books are on the table over there. You get the book then go to customer service and get your number and then get in line. One book per customer.” One book? What kind of malarky is that? No author worth their salt puts a limit on book sales. She’s definitely buried her head in one too many YA fantasies to realize that capitalism makes America great.
I move to the table and grab two books. I’ll feign ignorance at customer service. The woman in customer service either gets how capitalism works, is a Danny fan, or reads books with real people with real problems. She gives me a paper bracelet number 9. Squee–9–I won’t be here until close.
Round the corner and there he is. Curly-headed cutie, already chatting with the gal that got bracelet number one. Yep, early, before the 5 p.m. start. See, capitalism. Friendliness oozes from him as I knew it would. I ask the girls behind me if they’ll take a photo since my daughter had a baby and isn’t there, that’s why I’m alone. Everyone in line is excited about my new grandbear and all are asking after Middle Chicken’s health. The Bravoverse care for each other.
I step forward. Is my heart beating fast? Is it hot in here?
“Hi. I like your sweater,” says Danny.
“Thanks, doll.” How big is my smile? It’s crazy size, isn’t it?
“What’s your name?” I place the pair of books in front of him.
“Linda”
Smiles all round. “Like Linda Pellegrino!!” We squee in unison. I knew we’d be besties. He takes a book and raises a pen.
“Wait–they’re not for me. They’re for my daughters. They are huge fans. One would be here with me but she had a baby two days ago and the other is in the land of country music but she is your biggest fan.”
He is clearly impressed, asks names, and pens the perfect message to each of the chickens. Sometimes a mother’s heart grows two sizes. To Middle Chicken, he writes, “Middle Chicken, congratulations on Baby Boy Sloth (don’t you love the name?). Linda is a Queen. Love, Danny.” Yup, it’s there in black Sharpie. Linda is a Queen. To Baby Chicken, he wishes her a happy birthday (I provided life stories for him.) and says he can’t wait to meet her. I know he means it.
I knew he’d be a Duchess Doll. I see him again at Bravocon. There’s more? Pfft–girlfriend there’s always more.
The Duchess Diaries 