Seeing how I like to be the center of the Bitter Waiter universe, I rarely tread into celebrity territory for fear that it will take a little sparkle out of my own star. That said, I've been contacted by several readers regarding a highly publicized public display of intoxication by one of my least favorite celebs, and I must put aside my own narcissism for the greater good of my readers.
By now you've probably read through Perez, TMZ, and a host of other unreliable gossip Web sites that Jessica Simpson recently visited my humble restaurant. It's true. And I was there for the whole thing. And as someone with a four-year history of Jessica Simpson run-ins (all unpleasant), I'll gladly recount the entire evening.
The least-talented Simpson arrived around 4 p.m. with two lady friends (one of them Cace, her former assistant who's usually the only friendly member of the party) and Cace's boyfriend Donald Faison of Scrubs. They ordered pitcher after pitcher of an evil concoction called "The Jessica Simpson Margarita."
(Years ago, Jessica used to demand packets of Splenda, lime juice, ice, and tequila, and then mixed them together at her table. She claimed her margarita had no calories. Our owners gladly acquiesced to these demands and found the grating little blonde's creation so charming, they put it on the menu.)
As poor Cace became so drunk she began to vomit, Jessica did what any best friend would do. She went to another booth and proceeded to text Tony Romo, Nick Lachey, John Mayer, or any one of the men who've recently dumped her for a more talented celebrity.
Donald was too busy talking about football with one of the bar regulars to help, leaving the other female friend to assist Cace as she threw up all over the table, under the booth, and hopefully into Jessica's expensive handbag.
As managers, bus boys and servers (not me, natch) did everything they could to clean up, Jessica stood there horrified, as if watching footage from a Malawian massacre. In between text messages, and without looking up from her phone, she would occasionally chirp "Oh, I'm sorry we...(trailing off)" or "Cace, does this hideous white sun dress make my fat ass look fat?"
Mama Tina Simpson saved the day, looking like she flew in from a Southern church bake-off, and transported the Simpson posse to safety.
Next time the Simpsons strike, you can bet I'll do my part to expose their naughty behavior.
1. Fat family of five
Dad strolled in wearing a T-shirt that said "I am Fartacus." They left before ordering because our kid's menu was too "fancy" for his army of Truffle-Shufflers. Mom was clad in a style reminiscent of family church directory photos from the late '80s.
2. The Pointer Sisters
Unable to communicate in any manner other than pointing or nodding, these Asian sisters made quite the presentation while ordering. We eventually established several non-verbal clues and their meanings. One nod meant "Everything is acceptable, American servant." Two nods and a grin meant, "This rotisserie chicken is succulent, cute white waiter." And a weak smile from me meant, "I anticipate your bad tip, friends of Hello Kitty."
3. Blissfully in love couple
Trumpets echoed and doves accompanied this euphoric couple as they announced to all that their love transcended anything we mere plebeians should ever hope to experience. Doting boyfriend trumped my question of "Anything to drink?" with "Isn't she the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?"
"At this booth, yes," I replied.
4. Wannabe celeb and her manorexic friend
Nothing screams "I'm someone" like wearing a pair of sunglasses indoors while dining. Not-Lindsay ordered in a tone that deftly mixed condescension with what must have been abdominal pain. Her anemic she-male comrade didn't look up from his Razr once and sucked iced tea like a West Hollywood bar regular. They split a salad and stayed for hours, discussing flat irons, sundresses, and someone named Chikezie.
With today being Cinco de Mayo, and yours truly working the middle of the battlefield, expect a particularly colorful entry tomorrow.