While I love my friends Robert and Melissa, shown above, I would like to extend my olive branch of friendship out to Vincent Pastore as well. See him? In the middle? We sat next to him at La Mela on Mulberry Street in Little Italy, and let me just tell you, all parties involved were lucky he was tucked into the back of his table, surrounded by a harem of older Italian men. Why? Because as I tried to pay attention to my chicken francaise, I was holding myself back from running up to his table and screaming, "WHY? Why would you hurt Tony Soprano like that? He loved you like a brother! You really are a Big Pussy! Also, let's be friends."