The continued offenses of Jessica Simpson

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.

Comments

[Kirsten]

Um, no way. No way, no way, no way. Not Lil' Miss Sunshine Simpson?!

[Bitter Waiter]

In response to the tip query, I do not know. I was not their server.

In response to "hmm," you're right. I made up the whole thing. Nevermind that the paparzzi were there, as well as other servers who read this blog, to corroborate every facet of what I wrote.

Maybe you should spend more time honing your remedial grammar and spelling skills and less time defending your equally idiotic favorite pop-star, whose 15 minutes are 15 more than you'll ever experience. Be well :)

[well did she tip well]

how did she tip though? lol

[hmm]

i don't know if i believe a word of this oh lett me thing no i don't