During my eight years in Los Angeles I've encountered a motley assortment of Hollywood elite as I served and slurred my way through many different day jobs. For the first - but certainly not last - time in Bitter Waiter history, I present an uncensored look at some of my more memorable celebrity encounters. Some good. Many bad...
Today is merely part one of several in our journey down the red carpet. Now pop some pills, be up to date on all your injections, and let's get on with the show.
In alphabetical order...
She's even crazier in person than during one of her horse tranquilizer-induced stream-of-consciousness fits you've seen on T.V. Though she was perfectly polite to me, she couldn't be distracted from sifting through the various contents of her industrial strength garbage bag-sized purse while searching in vain for her cell phone (it was on the table next to her the entire time). She spent so long stressing, searching - and yes, sobbing - that she didn't even order. We spent an awkward 20 food-and-drink-less minutes together before she and her equally daffy assistant just left.
What a miserable, talentless, horrible little troll. Nevermind her highly affected "Yes I know I'm someone famous" sense of entitlement. Forget the layers of cheap make-up that made her look less pop star and more powdered donut. Overlook the mangled pronunciation of basic menu items. No, what I find contemptible is that for someone worth so much money, she tipped five percent. FIVE percent.
Cheap, insincere, and massively unpleasant, Christina Aguilera is my second least favorite celebrity of all time. I hope someday the ugly truck comes back and runs over you again, you nasty bitch.
I love me some Veronica Mars/Gossip Girl, and Bell is both delightful and a good tipper, but the gaggle of obnoxious fan boys at her table made me roll my eyes so many times I thought someone would have to shove a spoon down my throat.
Look at that face. How could I have anything negative to say about him? Well, I don't. He even asked my name, and upon learning that it's the same as his (albeit, mine is spelled correctly) he said I was the first person in L.A. he'd met with the same name.
We'll always have that moment together.
Whereas Xtina is my second least favorite celebrity, Jennifer Garner is my second most favorite. Her food order is simple. Her smile makes you feel like you're her best friend. Her laughter solidifies your choice to be a comedic actor (or at least encourages you to prolong the delusion).
And her tip? Her tip could have paid half my rent.
I heart you, Jennifer Garner.
If you took a dozen monkeys, gave them each a hit of acid, dressed them in medieval clothing and threw them a collective birthday party at a Mexican restaurant, that sight would still appear more lucid than waiting on David Hasselhoff. He wasn't rude, just crazy. Each simple menu inquiry of mine was met with a ridiculous nonsensical joke:
ME: Would you like black beans or pinto beans?
DAVID HASSELHOFF: Which ones are better singers? HAHAHAHAHAHA!!
ME: I'll be out back seeing how much Isopropyl fits into my flask.
I don't remember his tip, if he even tipped, or if he merely dined and dashed. Not since I helped out at a center for the mentally disabled* have I witnessed such illogical attempts at attention.
That's all for today's dish, but I'll see you in 2012 with a piping hot serving of gossip, contempt, and wit. Have a happy and safe New Year's Eve.