The Telltale Moozadell

Of all the actors on all the shows I watch (or at least all the shows I get paid to watch), the last one I ever expected to be writing scripts like this was Michael Imperioli. I don't know why, but it just seems like he shouldn't have it in him. Maybe it's how bad his season two screenplay was, because I could buy Edie Falco, or maybe even Bracco (plus we know Bogdanovich can bring it), but Imperioli? Who knew? Heck, I can even close my eyes and see Gandolfini himself clacking away on an IBM Selectric, chomping a cigar and wearing nothing but a robe and a pair of Little Lord fuck-pants. Kate Moss is feeding him grapes, by the way. But, in spite of my initial disbelief (and my overactive imagination's inexplicable obsession with yesterday's has-been Kate Moss), I gotta make a confession: I want to be like Mike. This kid's got game.

Carmela comes home to an ostensibly empty house, but before she can get even three feet inside the door, Tony's disembodied voice starts belting out a bizarre birthday serenade that's equal parts Beatles, Marilyn Monroe, and Patty & Mildred Hill. He appears from around a corner, bearing a small gift, and with less than thirty seconds elapsed in the episode we finally get the answer to the question that's plagued our forums for weeks. No, not the Chasidic Homeboy one. But yes, Tony does kiss his wife. He hands over the gift, which in the particular frame I've pressed pause on here bears a disturbing resemblance to a half-melted Rubik's cube. It's okay, though, because even that still wouldn't be the worst gift she'll get today. She opens the box to reveal an immense sapphire ring, which she of course adores. As they mack some more, AJ wanders in behind them. There's a weird moment where Carmela looks at the ring with suspicion, and then AJ greets her with a gift of his own, which he neglected to wrap because "it's wasteful to the environment." Of course, the non-biodegradable plastic bag he's got it in now is nothing if not nature-friendly. She pulls out a DVD, and Edie Falco leaves me in stitches with perfect delivery on "The Matrix? I haven't seen that one yet." Did you know that over sixty-eight percent of DVD owners own a copy of The Matrix? In fact, due to a minor NetFlix snafu, I actually have two at the moment. At this point Meadow joins the birthday celebration and oh. My. God. What in the name of all things risen and holy is she wearing? Is that a throw-rug? Maybe some sort of converted-for-civilian-usage construction sign? I don't know, but it's bright orange and fringed, and it's frightening me. Anyway, Meadow's gift is a day at some spa in New York that was highly recommended by her friend Bathsheba. "I got one for myself too, so we can go together. I put it on your credit card." Cut to Tony, who saw that credit-card bit coming from a mile away.

Somewhere in the asphalt hinterlands, we're at a random Jersey club called "The Lollipop." Inside, the owner is whining to Furio about the loss of his business, and oh. My. God. Again. Believe it or not, the bartender at The Lollipop is none other than erstwhile former Doogie-chum Vinnie "Max Casella" Delpino. I don't think I've laid eyes on this guy since about 1989, and he still looks EXACTLY the same. Now that's frightening. The owner babbles about losing it all on one missed extra point, and now you know how Scott Norwood feels there, buddy. Sorry about that. The Penguins Principle compels me to kick Buffalo when they're down. Anyway, Furio responds to Whiny Winkelson's torrent of sobs by tossing a drink in his face and ordering him, "No bitch to me!" Furio is a golden god, my friends. A magnificent golden god.

Casa di Soprano. I guess this is Carmela's official birthday party, even though she got all the presents two scenes ago. All the usual suspects are present, including Janice and a surprisingly wide-awake Aaron. I guess it'd be even more surprising if you knew what time it is as I'm typing this. Let's just say my own personal StR is a fairly large negative number by this point. Meadow runs to answer the doorbell, returning with her Little Lord in tow. Introductions are dispensed with, and Aaron the Narcoleptic Doppelganger adds fuel to the shout-out fire by sticking with his repetitive catchphrase conceit. "Have you heard the news?" he asks, prompting Jackie Jr. to remind him that they met in last week's apostolic encounter. Jackie presents Carmela with his gift, and as everyone sings a slightly more traditional version of Happy Birthday, Tony again turns to kiss Carmela. David Chase so reads our forums. And then writes, shoots, and edits entire episodes in a five-day span, just to address our complaints and concerns. Ten bucks says Jackie Jr. is topless week.

Later, the party moves into the living room. Jackie Jr. and Anthony Jr. discuss football, and also why Jackie Jr. doesn't like to refer to himself as JJ. Okay, just kidding on that last one. Across the room, Aaron explains that "the Good Lord doesn't want us to drink alcohol." Huh? What am I, the only Aaron to ever read the Bible? Tony, who himself demonstrates an impressive amount of theological logic this week, responds to this statement by pointing out that Jesus drank wine all the time. Janice walks over to defend her somnolent soulmate, claiming that "He was Jesus, Tony. You can't make comparisons." ["For the record, I have no idea what the hell they're talking about." -- God] ["Me either. You'd think any kid of mine would know how to party." -- Madonna] ["Look, if You holy types are going to do the asides, at least pick a different font." -- Sars] Tony gives Janice the stink-eye, and then rapidly follows it up with the wipe-nose as he points out a smear of cocaine on her nostril. So let me get this straight. Alcohol is bad, but drugs are okay? I guess religion really is the opiate of the masses. Across the room, AJ gets a page, and asks for and receives permission to spend the night at Egon's house. Egon? Is that a Ghostbusters reference? Is there some sort of nominal link between Bathsheba and Egon that my extensive research (consisting of a Google search and, well, another Google search) has failed to turn up?

Cut to the Lollipop, with Christopher's Range Rover parked in front. He leads a blindfolded Adriana up to the club, smiling all the way. Adriana, however, is a bit nervous, reporting first that she smells fish (but not, sadly, fishcakes) and later that she smells piss. Despite the aromatic bouquet, she's relieved and also confused when Christopher lifts the blindfold. He then tells her that the club is hers to do with as she pleases, with only him and Furio as silent partners. Adriana is ecstatic, and Chris pledges that she'll "turn this place into the biggest Jersey club since the Stone Pony," which couldn't have been that big, because I've never heard of it. Because I go clubbing in Hoboken so frequently. ["It's in Asbury Park. If you'd grown up in Jersey, you'd have heard of it. 'Out Q, your club and concert calendar!'" -- Sars] Adriana smacks her gum and asks if she can change the name. I actually kinda hope she doesn't, because The Pirate Principle makes me think of the Good Ship Lollipop, which is the boat that takes you to Pirate games here in Pittsburgh. For reasons that should be evident if you've ever worked up the necessary stalker-quotient to check out my bio on this site, I'm hesitant to product-place the name of the new stadium, but it is pretty nice. Anyway, Furio brings in Whiny Winkelson, whom Chris introduces to Adriana by saying that "he works for [her]."

Tony is laid out on the bed, absently watching an old movie and munching on birthday cake. Carmela enters in a completely different matching robe and pajama set than the one she had last week, and Tony remarks that the ring looks good on her. She agrees, but looks pensive when she asks, "Tony, is there anything you need to tell me? You didn't buy that little sports car you were talking about." She seems really worried that the ring might be stolen, which I don't understand, because how is it any better if he paid for it with money he also probably stole? Carmela climbs into bed, and Tony feeds her a bit of the cake. Before the kissing can commence once again, the phone rings. It's Rosalie, and they banter a bit about kids and bedtimes, and then Tony hangs up. Carmela is "not thrilled" with Meadow and Little Lord Fuckpants' budding relationship, but Tony feels that the kid is from "good stock." "I just never pictured Meadow with someone like him," replies Carmela, and Tony is instantly offended. "Someone like him? He's one of us. Don't tell me you were happier when she was going out with Jamal Ginsberg, the Chasidic Homeboy." I'll defer dissection of the racial implications here to the forums, and instead just ponder if Tony and Carmela were anything like Meadow and Jackie Jr. when they started dating. I smell a flashback episode, and that's not just because I've already seen this week's promos. They talk some more, during which Tony refers to the entire contents of MOMA as "pictures of soup cans." (Note the gratuitous usage of the trendy acronym to demonstrate that I do know my way around east of the Hudson. Also note the laughter of real New Yorkers at that statement.) Tony finally agrees to have a talk with Jackie Jr., and then they go to bed.

Michael Imperioli: I don't knowI thought it was pretty funny myself. "Chasidic Homeboy." Heh.
David Chase: Uh, what are you doing in here?
Michael Imperioli: This is the writer's lounge. I work here. I even carry a badge. See?
David Chase: Whatever. Just don't touch any of my scripts. I haven't finished changing the names to protect the innocent yet.
Michael Imperioli: You should let me help with that. I'm great with nicknames. I mean, what kind of a dork-ass name is "Aaron Arkaway," anyway?
David Chase: Yeah, but you gotta admit, Aaron is a something of a dork-ass himself.
Michael Imperioli: Good point.

Cut to Meadow and Jackie Jr. in the car, looking like they're about ready to go to bed too, but with an entirely different purpose in mind. Meadow hands over a paper on Edgar Allan Poe she wrote for him, and that's as close as we're gonna come to actually hearing this week's title out loud. Although I guess Imperioli isn't really a regular member of the writing staff, so maybe it's okay. "I never should have taken Literature of Obsession," sighs Jackie Jr., and the same could easily be said for the entire writing staff of The Sopranos, regular or not. "I owe you big time," he says, and then offers up the second-oldest (but first-smarmiest) line in the book: "How can I repay you?" Meadow's got a few ideas, though, and they're pretty similar to the ones I espoused last week. She hands him a condom, and as he moves in for the mack, we get a voice-over: "On your mark, get set, go!" I suppose we should just be grateful they didn't have "Paradise by the Dashboard Light" playing on the radio.

We follow the audio to the Verbum Dei swimming pool, where AJ, Egon, Venkman, and Ray are racing in the swimming pool. A couple of girls watch from the stands. They're smoking cigarettes, but giggling and carrying on like they might be joints. Or giants, for that matter. Anyway, I suppose not even HBO wants child actors smoking actual pot on the set. Also, who breaks in to the high-school gym to go swimming? Wasn't that like the most hated class ever? The boys climb out of the water, and say what you want about Jamie Lynn Sigler, but Robert Iler has definitely slimmed down this season. Or maybe he's just getting really good at sucking in his gut. Either way, I somehow doubt it'll stop the clamoring for Jason Cerbone. Anyway, Egon and his crew start busting the place up, tossing papers and equipment into the pool and chasing Slimer all over the place. Finally Egon apparently gets a few of his mental streams crossed, because he picks up a stool and smashes a huge trophy case. Egon, by the way, so wants to be Jason Biggs from American Pie, but he's not quite pulling it off. They do, however, manage some fantastic lighting in this scene.

Sunday morning at Das Sopranohaus, with NPR's "Car Talk" playing on the radio in the kitchen. Meadow comes down, bedecked in an altogether unflattering headband, and immediately asks after Jackie Jr. "Vince 'Fuckpants' Lombardi is out back with your brother," Tony reports, and indeed he is, giving the young lad some football instruction. You know, I never caught the "Homoeroticism, Yay" vibe off those two that some others have claimed to see, but I guess I can understand where it comes from. Anyway, Meadow watches her boys play ball, and then sits down and asks Tony straight-up for a car, so she can "come have dinner with you guys once in a while." Once in a while? Well, I guess that answers yet another age-old question. "A while" apparently equals about thirty seconds or so. By the way, get it? "Car Talk"? When Tony mentions that she could have had a car last year, she snots that it was Eric Scatino's, and that it was "some kind of sick joke." She's right, but the attitude isn't really helping her sell the point. She also mentions that Davey Scatino is now in a "mental-health care facility in Nevada," as opposed to fighting aliens and malevolent hairdressers the way we all know he really is. I kinda miss Davey, you know? Hey Jessica, do me a favor and say hi for me, okay? Carmela is concerned that Meadow isn't taking advantage of everything the city has to offer, but rather than explain that she's already filled her bums-with-newspaper-up-the-butt quota for the year, Meadow just tunes the parents out and focuses in on Little Lord Fuckpants, who's still cavorting with AJ in the backyard. He's giving the kid tips on rushing the passer, most of which involve staring deep into the guy's soulful brown eyes. Damn you people for ruining this episode for me. Can the Paulie/Silvio slash-fic (tm Sars, if she'll admit to it) really be that far behind? Sorry. That was way over the line.

Verbum Dei. That sounds dirty, by the way, but isn't. The pool is being cleaned, but Principal Cincotta, or as I like to call him, Headmaster Weasel, is bemoaning the destruction of the "wall of pride." A janitor approaches and hands him a half-eaten box of pizza found at the scene. Cut to pair of cop cars screeching to a halt in front of the pizza joint. The police head inside and start grilling the owner about the origin of the pie. To truly do justice to the hilarity that is this scene, I'd have to come to your house and act it out for you in person, but what with the whole internet downturn, the MBTV accounting division refuses to approve my expense vouchers. I guess I probably could have flown coach like they asked, but we all remember what happened last time I tried that. Anyway, it's funny in a Dragnet-parody sort of way. And they didn't even need Dan Ackroyd and Tom Hanks to pull it off. The owner's son finally admits that he knows the origin of the telltale moozadell, but prefers not to say. A few threats from the cops are apparently all it takes to change to his mind, however.

Cut to AJ being berated by Carmela. It's pretty much every conversation I've ever had with my own parents. "Yes, I knew it was wrong. No, I don't know why I did it. Yes, I'm sorry. No, I wouldn't jump off a bridge if all my friends did." You get the idea. I remember the time I broke a glass door, and Mom debited my allowance while the blood was still gushing down my arm. Tony "Robot Dog" Soprano wanders over in his robe and bedhead (StR = 885, a pretty respectable score), and asks the obvious question: "How do you vandalize a swimming pool?" He smacks AJ for screwing around on his mother's birthday, and AJ adopts a Johnny Cochran-style defense by saying that it was after midnight, which apparently makes it okay to let it all hang out. Tony smacks him again, saying that he's going to miss the big game and ruin his football career, and AJ just looks despondent as he reports that Headmaster Weasel will be calling them to his office.

Vesuvio. Artie brings a plate to Rosalie and Carmela, but Rosalie isn't really interested in "mozzarella and string beans." Artie explains that it's actually not mozzarella, but rather a special cheese with an "almost nut-like" flavor called "buratta" that he had flown in special from Italy. Then again, with the food pronunciations on this show, "buratta" could actually just be something he picked up at the Taco Bell door. Anyway, Rosalie doesn't seem to like it, as she professes to be "not that big on nuts." Obviously, she doesn't spend a lot of time with her family, because it doesn't get any nuttier than Big Joey Pants and Little Lord Fuckpants. Incidentally, I wonder when they'll officially change the last name? Anyway, Artie does a Benihana flip with the pepper mill and departs, leaving Rosalie to make a toast to "the blossoming friendship between our two children." She goes on to describe Meadow as "a wonderful girl," and I guess she doesn't spend much time with Carmela's family either. They talk about Artie and Charmaine's impending divorce, and Rosalie marvels that even though the men in their lives have been "you know what," they've managed to stay together, while regular guys like Artie can't hold on to their marriages. "You can only push a man so far," declares Carmela, and then you can see her start to wonder if perhaps she herself has pushed Tony past that point.

And it looks like she has, because he's out at the Mercedes dealership again. Gloria hops out of a car and sends her latest mark inside to wait on the paperwork. Incidentally, do all New Jersey luxury car dealers wear leather mini-skirts and knee-high boots? No, seriously. Because I've got some extra cash to burn. Gloria comes over and alleviates Tony's jealousy by explaining that the "douche bag" (as Tony so eloquently describes him) buys a new six-hundred from her every year. Thus mollified, Tony hands over a gift he brought for her. This one looks nothing like a melted Rubik's cube, however, and actually turns out to be a day planner of some sort. He attempts to "kidnap" her for the afternoon, offering to take her anywhere she wants to go, including such potential locales as "The Pierre" and "Sherry Netherlands." After not knowing The Stone Pony, I'm not even going to take a shot at those two, although "Sherry Netherlands" does sound like one hell of a tasty beverage. ["They're Manhattan hotels." -- Sars] Gloria has to stay and work though, and heads back inside, but not before extracting a promise from Tony to take her to, of all places, the zoo. Maybe they serve Sherry Netherlands in the bar there or something. Who knows?

Paulie's Place. Paulie and Tony are watching some Discovery Channel special on snakes, with Paulie pontificating on the reproductive habits of serpents. "Amazing thing about snakes is that they reproduce spontaneouslythey have both male and female sex organs." Every time I think Paulie is just talking out of his ass, he turns out be right yet again, as another Google search turned up this tidbit from snake.org: "Talk about girl power! Some snakes have shown the ability to reproduce without males! [Their punctuation, not mine.] While this situation has been reported in only a smattering of snakes, such as the Brahminy Blind Snakes and, more rarely, the Timber Rattlesnake and Wandering Garter Snake, it may happen among other snakes as well." Besides, after the hagiography incident of episodes past, how can I pass up this opportunity for gratuitous usage of the word "parthenogenesis"? Anyway, whoever in the forums described Paulie as the "Mafia Cliff Claven" has earned my undying respect and admiration. Paulie extends his theory of zoology to include the fact that this reproductive trait is the origin of calling someone you can't trust a snake. "How can you trust a guy who can literally go fuck himself?" he wonders. Tony, as always, is skeptical, pointing out that he's fairly certain that the whole untrustworthy-reptile concept originated with Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. Having recapped the miniseries, I know he's right, but Paulie insists that "snakes were fucking themselves long before Adam and Eve came along." Actually, that was only about two days or so, but you know what they say about time and fun.

Michael Imperioli: As much as I love Paulie, you know what would make this show better?
David Chase: More reptilian sex-talk?
Michael Imperioli: Well, yeah, but I was thinking we could have a special guest star every week. They could come in and have wacky conversations with Paulie about stuff that's sub-textually related to the show.
David Chase: Nah. It's too gimmicky. Besides, these days, it seems like everybody's doing it.
Michael Imperioli: I guess it is sort of contrived.
David Chase: Yeah, and believe you me, you don't want to mess with that guy.

Before the Biblical banter can get out of hand, there's a knock at the door. It's Jackie Jr., and Paulie gets relegated to Furio status this week when he's forced to leave his own apartment so that Tony and Little Lord Fuckpants can chat. Once Paulie heads off to "pick up a couple of slices," Tony pours Jackie some wine and starts grilling him about Meadow. Jackie lists their itinerary for the evening, and then starts babbling about school scheduling before Tony finally gets serious. "Listen, I think you're a good kid. You show respect at my house." I'll say. And I will, too. But that comes later. Tony emphasizes his desire to keep Jackie out of the family business, saying, "I know I've told you this before, but this time it's differentIf you're in school, you've got to give it everything you've got." Jackie mollifies him a bit by revealing that he got an A on his Edgar Allan Poe paper, and then proceeds to describe Poe as a "good writer, but what a fucking nut jobhe smoked opium and married his cousin." Now there was a man who'd read his Bible. Tony seems pleased by this educational accomplishment (and no doubt Meadow would be pleased at fooling her father as well), and he wraps up the paternal inquisition by instructing Jackie Jr. to "keep [his] father in mind." Before leaving, he hands the kid a wad of cash, instructing him to "have some dessert on mejust don't keep her out too late." I think it's probably too late for Tony to be worrying about how late they're staying out.

The Club Formerly Known As Lollipop, or TCFKAL (which is actually pronounced "Crazy Horse"). Adriana introduces their "very first band," and while some people have complained about this little musical interlude, it's actually a pretty nice character montage. We see Chris and Adriana looking proud, Artie dancing like a fifteen-year-old at a Backstreet Boys concert, and the oldsters like Paulie and Hesh in the back, struggling to talk over the loudness of the band. In the bathroom, some random Russian is selling a brand of Ecstasy he calls "Versace." Given how this episode turns out, I'm betting he'll be switching to the Little Lord label sometime very soon. Suddenly, Furio and Vinnie Delpino burst in and toss him out into the street. "If I see-a you here again, I'm a-gonna crack you head!" exclaims Furio, before cracking the kid in an entirely different location. Heh. Also, ow. Furio is wearing pink leather pants, by the way. There's nothing I don't love about this guy.

At the zoo, Tony and Gloria lean against one another, gazing at the gorillas in their habitat. Tony makes a few cracks about the smell, but then the subtext kicks in when he says that the apes could "innocently maul you into ten pieces." Gloria explains that they usually only act threatening, and Tony replies that "that's because they already did all their mauling. Now all they gotta do is give you the look." If that's not an apt metaphor for the effect Tony has on Gloria, I don't know what is. Gloria snuggles closer, channeling the subtext into a completely different direction by reminding him that "other primates groom each other." Tony apparently feels her left breast is in need of some grooming, because that's where his hand goes. It emerges from her shirt with a locket of some sort, which she describes as a "Tibetan talisman, for protection." Tony's face goes instantly flat. "I knew it. I knew there had to be something," he sighs. Cut to later, as they stroll through the zoo. Tony explains that his sister was a Buddhist, and "she's a wackjob." Gloria defends her beliefs, evangelizing that Buddhism just helps her keep perspective. "The first noble truth is that life is suffering. But the Buddha preached joyful participation in the sorrows of the world." She stops and leans up against a railing, giggling because "[she] said zoo, and [he] came." Tony doesn't like her playing mind games, but she pulls him close and gushes, "You're sweetI'm crazy about you. You know that, don't you?" They kiss, and props to the sound guys for dropping in some animalistic growls on the soundtrack here. Eventually, a crowd of kids wanders by and spoils the moment, especially after Gloria asks if Tony ever brought his own kids to the zoo. Tony responds by calling out, "See ya later," and when Gloria asks who he's waving to he replies, "Oh, that was my hard-on." Heh. Gloria is sympathetic, purring, "Aww, between the Buddhism and the talk about the family, poor you." Tony gets a very weird look on his face for a second here, almost like she's jogged some sort of a memory. Twenty bucks says the phrase "poor you" comes up again before the end of the season, and I wouldn't be too surprised to hear Big Pussy saying it, either. Gloria reaches in to check if Tony's hard-on really did disappear, and then the action moves to, of all places, the snake house. Nice touch, Moltisanti. "You know snakes can fuck themselves?" offers Tony by way of pillow talk, but Gloria just wants to get right down to business. As for the sex scene which follows, well, let's just say it's not TV. It's HBO. Also, if Adam and Eve were anything like these two, I can totally understand why we got kicked out.

The Little Lord Loft. Jackie Jr. is holding court with a couple of friends, and the Ecstasy dealer from the Crazy Horse. One of the friends explains that they had an arrangement to sell there, but now some made guy named "Multi-something" is running the show. "I know Chris," imparts Jackie, trying to sound as important as he can. He's also mimicking Brando a bit with his posture and arm movements, which is yet another subtle nod to the way in which so much of mob culture is shaped by the movies, rather than the other way around. "What's your name again?" he asks the Russian, who replies, "Matush." "I asked your name, not where Furio kicked you," replies Jackie, before agreeing to fix the situation. Or at least that's what he should have said.

Headmaster Weasel's office. He intones that the standard punishment for an infraction like AJ's would be expulsion, citing the school's "zero tolerance" policy. He then goes on to state that AJ's sentence will be suspended, based on his "academic performance, and his participation in extracurricular sport." "So it's not exactly zero tolerance, is it?" snarks Carmela. Tony suggests detention, but Headmaster Weasel explains that "a lawsuit forced us to cancel our detention program." Tony is reduced to pleading, "But he's off the football team, right?" Headmaster Weasel weasels out of that one too, claiming that "studies at Harvard, as well as other places" show that sports are good for the kids. A priest in a gym suit who's been standing in the corner the whole time gushes about the great "leadership skills" that AJ shows on the field, and I don't know why everyone is so keen about keeping the kid on the team, especially since the only play we've ever seen him make was pure luck, and he fainted the day in practice. The headmaster suggests that AJ's punishment be handed out parentally, and Tony is forced to warn AJ to wipe the smirk off his face. Afterwards, Tony and Carmela bicker as they back walk to their car sans AJ. Tony swears to punish the kid as harshly as possible, insisting that "he ain't getting off that easy." Except for the fact that he's already back in school, that is.

Melfi's office, and for the second time in three weeks, she's seeing someone other than Tony. That kind of weirds me out a bit. Gloria confesses that "overall, it's been a good two weeksI had a wonderful dream where I lit the big torch at the Olympics." She goes on to list all the things that are going well in her job, but then Melfi turns the screws by asking about her personal life. "Nothing, right now," she stumbles, and Melfi moves in for the kill. "What I'm going to say is a little delicate, but I think it's important. When you called to cancel the other day, I heard a man's voice." Gloria is a lousy liar, by the way, claiming that "her car broke down." Then she berates Melfi for having the gall to ask what she perceives to be an inappropriate question, and to a certain extent she's right. This may be important for her therapy, but Melfi really just wants to know if it was Tony or not. Melfi reminds Gloria about her suicide attempt after her last break-up, but Gloria insists it was only "suicidal ideation." Which is odd, because it sure looked like suicidal foreshadow-ation to me. Gloria remains unrepentant, sticking with the breakdown story, and Melfi eventually agrees to believe her.