RW Bio - Pam, San Francisco
The Real World Season 03: San Francisco - Bio - Pam

By Kvm711
5/5/2001

We never learned much about Pam beyond that she was an ambitious, caring woman interested in medicine. Besides her one low point in agreeing to appear on The Real World, she always seemed like a decent enough person. After the show ended, so did our thoughts of her, until rumors started pouring in that *gasp* Pam was now dating Judd. Could it be? Wouldn't a Harvard graduate such as herself be smart enough to stay away from the likes of Judd? A few of Pam's personal diary entries may finally clue us in as to how the courtship transpired...

 
October 6, 1996

Dear Diary,

Last night was my first date with Judd. I wish I could say I remember it vividly, but honestly most of the details I recall are hazy at best. Yesterday afternoon, I told Judd that I would be going to the movies with a couple friends. Judd, the gentlemen that he is, offered me some Tic-Tacs. I declined, but then he insisted, saying he couldn't live with himself if he let such a pretty woman go out with offensive breath. I didn't realize I smelled that horribly, so I obliged. The last thing I remember was the flavor... the Tic-Tacs sure didn't taste like wintergreen. The next thing I knew, I was picking my head up off the table at a fancy steak restaurant. I was frightened, not remembering how I arrived there or when I had cancelled my previous plans, but Judd grasped my hands assuring me everything was okay. I must have been tired from my medical rounds earlier in the day, but I'm still surprised that I would have become so bored by the conversation that I'd actually doze off. Of course, I must remember who my dinner companion was, this sort of thing probably happens to Judd all the time.

At the end of the night, he asked when he could take me out again. I declined the offer, suggesting we might be better off as friends. I don't think Judd took it well... let's just say that at that point Cory lost the title of "Biggest Crier of the San Francisco season."

Thoroughly confused,
Pam

 
December 2, 1996

Dear Diary,

Judd stopped by at my place again last night to show me an antique watch he just bought. Apparently he wanted my opinion of it, as if I'm some sort of appraiser. He took it out of his coat and dangled it by the chain slowly in front of my face. I think I told him it was nice or whatever and then started to feel extremely sleepy. Oddly, I can't quite recall what happened after that... All I know is that this morning I awoke to find a "JUDD & PAM 4EVA" tattoo on my ass. I keep trying to scrub it off, but alas, it seems permanent.

Marked by the Devil,
Pam

 
February 26, 1997
Dear Diary,

This morning I awoke to a loud crash in the bathroom. I was frightened at the possibility of an intruder, so I instinctively grabbed for a candlestick holder to defend myself. I proceeded towards the bathroom and was able to identify the "burglar" before even opening the door, the scent of Judd's infamous "matzo fart" lingered in the air. My initial thought was to go ahead and attack the bastard anyway, figuring that I could probably convince the police that I mistook him for a prowler, and beside, no jury with cable would ever find anything wrong with killing the world's biggest panty waste. But then I realized I couldn't possibly plug my nose to avoid the stench and successfully murder him at the same time, so I put down the brass weapon. I pushed the door open with my one free non-nostril-squeezing hand, a move I now regret, because who knows if I might have found a pant-less Judd on the toilet exposing his Little (emphasis on little) Judd surrounded by a pound of the curliest pubic hair known to man.

Instead, I found Judd tampering with my bottle of scarlet hair dye. He was injecting some suspicious powdery substance into the container as I screamed at him. "How did you get in here? I told you to leave me alone! Get out!" He flashed me his patented whimpering puppy dog face, you know, the one that's far more pathetic than cute, feigning innocence. "What are you doing with my hair coloring stuff?" I asked. Judd stammered some excuse about needing to use the john and that he did nothing to the bottle, but I knew this was a lie. There was crimson dye all over my sink, for goodness sakes, not to mention all over Judd. I literally caught him red handed! (Hahahaha, now that's funny, "cartoonist" boy could learn a thing or two from me!) I pushed him towards my front door, urging him to get out. Alas, he left... both my apartment and the toilet seat up. Enraged, I put new streaks in my hair with the bottle he had been fidgeting with to calm my nerves, only to suddenly feel woozy and horny simultaneously. It's a good thing I had convinced Judd to leave, or I might have thrown myself at him, and I certainly wouldn't want to give him the wrong idea.

In retrospect, I wish it were an armed burglar rather than Judd; that'd have been a more pleasant situation to deal with. Even if I had been killed, it'd save me the horror of having to face Judd and his lame attempts to woo me each day.

Better off dead,
Pam

 
July 13, 1998

Dear Diary,

Judd has now moved in. I can't believe I let it get this far. For a while I kept faking headaches to avoid having to go on dates with him, but he'd always whip out his "special aspirin" to make me feel better. Before I knew it, I'd be at a pool hall with him, at the ballet with him, or even at the romantic Italian restaurant with him. I sure seem to have a selective memory, because I never recall agreeing to go to any of these places. That Italian restaurant was probably the worst. Judd paid some singer to serenade us with some bizarre song for half an hour straight. It went on for so long, the chorus is still ingrained in my mind. "Map, uoy tsum evol mih. Evol mih map. Llaf rof mih, map. Dduj dna map dluohs evah stol fo xes. Ssik dduj. Etad mih!" The odd thing was, it really didn't sound like any Italian I had heard before.

Of course, nothing gets as bad as his cartoons. Ugh, him and his damn cartoons. I swear, most mornings I have to bite my lip and think about his glaring physical inadequacies just to muster a laugh. "Hee hee, yeah, Judd... that Frumpy the Clown does have some hilarious commentary on Catholicism." I suppose I'm partially to blame, though. I'm the one who suggested basing his strip around a clown. I guess I figured that since people associate clowns with humor, they might accidentally equate the comic with actual comedy. So much for me and my big mouth (an asset that goes wasted with Judd's little member).

Last night I finally tried to call off this "relationship" once and for all. He tried to make me drink this bubbling tonic he concocted to "change my mind," but I refused. That's when he pulled out his trump card... a note from Pedro.



It's awfully peculiar that Pedro would write such a thing. I recall his handwriting being loopier, and it's not his style not to include either a smiley face or heart as the dot of the exclamation point. And he used the Nike slogan?? It is rather funny that after all these years, Judd suddenly found this note as I was trying to break up with him. But I always respected Pedro, and if he thinks Judd and I could have something special, I guess I could attempt to put up with Judd just a little longer... annoying hand gestures and all.

Serious relationship/serious problem,
Pam

 
March 23, 1999

Dear Diary,

This morning, just like each morning for the past three weeks, I awoke to find an engagement ring on my finger. I always ask Judd how it got there, and he elaborately details his preceding night's proposal. I'm rather embarrassed -- he's proposed to me over twenty times now, and I've forgotten each time after I wake up. It's almost as if they never really happened. What's especially difficult to believe is that, according to him, I've accepted his proposition each time. I mean, there's not exactly a fine line between loving and loathing, and towards Judd, I feel the latter.

Unfortunately, I began to feel guilty about being such a tease. What sort of woman calls off her engagement dozens of times? I figure if there's a part of me that falls enough in love with Judd for a few moments, there's a chance that eventually I'll be able to feel that way full time. All right, that chance is as fat as Judd's head, but we'll see.

Looks like I'm getting hitched,
Pam

 
July 17, 2001
Dear Diary,

My mom called today. She received her wedding invitation and went stark raving mad at the news. She doesn't like Judd to say the least. In fact, she only agreed to take a copy of Pedro & Me] after she realized it could prop up her television. She inquired in bitter, broken English, "Aren't there some nice eligible psych patients you could try dating?" I admit, I briefly considered her suggestion, but Judd would have none of it. "You want to end up marrying a crazy man?!" he asked in disbelief. I suppose that's exactly what I'm afraid of.

Dreading my wedding day,
Pam

 
August 26, 2001

Dear Diary,

Today was the big day - my wedding, supposedly the most blissful day of my life. If that's true, please kill me now. I didn't have any bridesmaids (because Judd doesn't allow me to have any friends), so my husband-to-be took over the maid-of-honor traditions. Something old: A spent condom he kept from one of many sexual encounters I don't recall. Something new: An unused rubber for us to use on our honeymoon. Blech. Something borrowed: A copy of Pedro & Me from the library, which I will need to return in six days or face overdue charges. On a side note - the slip revealed this is the first time the book has ever been checked out. Something blue: A can of teal hair dye, admittedly the most thoughtful (if you can call it that) gift of all, although it probably should have been Viagra if he actually intends to use that new condom.

I can understand why Judd had to resort to such cheap-o presents, the wedding being extremely expensive and all. Not that our reception was lavish by any means, but when you have to pay the guests to sit through the ceremony, it really starts to add up. I was hesitant to walk down the aisle, deciding I shouldn't go through with this wedding if my heart wasn't truly with it. When the music procession began and I didn't step out, I quickly discovered why Judd insisted on sewing magnets into my dress. An attraction, certainly stronger than anything I'll ever feel for Judd, yanked me to the front of the temple by force.

The ceremony itself was a laughingstock. Some hobo Judd found read a narrative by Paul Reiser, coincidentally, the one person less funny than Judd himself. When the rabbi came to the point to ask if anyone saw reason for us not be married, Judd hastily cut him off, demanding that he skip over that part, much to the chagrin of everyone in attendance. I vomited twice during his longwinded vows, which included the extremely romantic line: "I wed thee, Pam, in honor of Pedro." My vow was just seven sweet words: "As if I even have a choice." Right before the "I do's," I resolved to make one last attempt to escape this matrimony. As I turned to sprint for the door, I found Judd's foot firmly standing my flowing train, preventing me from going anywhere.

I tried to back away from the kiss, but he came at me with full force, open mouth. I bit his tongue in retaliation, which continued to bleed throughout the reception line. The guests threw cooked rice at us at Judd's urging, partially to "celebrate my Chinese heritage" and partially to "soften the blows on Judd's delicate skin." The reception was every girl's dream... Judd doing karaoke for three hours followed by some surprise lip-synching fun with RWLA Tami.

Unhappily ever after,
Pam

 
December 16, 2001

Dear Diary,

The honeymoon was downright horrendous. Judd found some coupon for a "romantic getaway" in North Dakota. Originally I was okay with this idea, figuring that the ND populace doesn't have electricity, let alone basic cable, so I'd finally be able to avoid the constant glares of pity from passersby when Judd's holding my hand. But once there, I realized there was no source of entertainment whatsoever, which left nothing for my hirsute husband and I to engage in beyond bedroom activities. Welcome to hell.

Back at home, life isn't much better. I tend to spend as many hours at the hospital as possible, preferring the company of the feebleminded and comatose to Judd. The other day I became ecstatic after a memo revealed Dr. Kevorkian was joining our staff. Turns out it wasn't the Dr. Kevorkian, but for a few precious moments I had a glimmer of hope that I'd be able to escape this godforsaken life.

Tonight I plan on tying my own tubes. I refuse to get pregnant by this man. Sure the procedure will be painful, but not as painful as having to watch Judd's genes passed on to future generations.

Waiting to die,
Pam

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