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bitterwaitress.com

I was surfing around on the internet today on one of my favorite websites, www.mma.tv and I saw a thread where they mentioned a post on a website called Bitter Waitress.com The post is claiming I’m a dick and I’m a shitty tipper, and that I’m short – which at least that one is true, although to add insult to injury, they made me 2 inches shorter than I really am. It doesn’t really mean shit when someone is 6’2″ and someone says they’re 6′, but when you’re a fucking 5′ 8″ runt like myself, chopping me down even further is just downright hurtful.

Anyway, here’s the story:

Location: Providence

Celebrity: Joe Rogan

So Joe Rogan, you know, the Fear Factor guy, came in the other night with his “entourage” of skeevy friends and ordered some drinks from me. Okay, since I work at a fancy hotel as a cocktail waitress, I have had experience with waiting on famous (or semi famous) people before. I know the golden rule: Never point out who they are in front of them. Usually that doesn’t fly. However, most people are polite even if you make this faux pas.

This is where Joe Rogan just proved he’s a *_insert classy adjective here_* One of the waitresses sees him and goes “Oh my God, you’re the Fear Fator guy” and he turn to her and said “Yeah, I know” and walked away. Then a (drunk) customer went to him and was like “Fear Factor guy, my son loves you” yadda yadda and he looked at her and goes “Yeah? And?” and turns away from her. She asked him to sign an autograph for her son but he completely ignored her and walked away. Now keep in mind, these were the only two people who acknowledged him, and he was still unbelieveably rude. I’ve waited on some people who may want not be bothered but at least they entertain fans for two minutes. Its not like either of these people were harassing him.

So I went over after their third or fourth round, and Joe stands up (he’s short, like 5’6″) and goes “where’s my bill?”. So I was like, “I just wanted to make sure you were all set.” And the guy rolls his eyes at me. So I rolled mine right back and pull the check out of my apron and throw it on the table.

They leave, and I go over there, and the tip was less than 5ænbsp; Are you kidding? You guys drank a lot, AND got free oysters from the chef, were rude to everyone you came in contact with, and now you have the balls to screw your waitress.

I am so posting about his ass on bitterwaitress.com

One last thought — If you are going to be a *_insert classy adjective you know I would use here_*, then order room service. At least they can get away with putting you in your place.

Now, as for that story on bitterwaitress.com I remember that evening very well. It’s really interesting to to me when I see a story told where someone takes reality into their eyes, processes it through their brain filter, and vomits it out in the shape of some sort of virtual, mental maxi pad that’s going to soak up the blood of their failed life and make them feel better by twisting their take on things into something that was completely different than the actual event.

It’s happened to me a number of times, but I swear I will never get used to how delusional and self centered some people are.

The anonymous poster didn’t name the hotel or the restaurant but I will, hotel was the Biltmore Hotel in Providence, Rhode Island, and the restaurant was McCormick & Schmicks

The actual story was, the “skeevy friends” I came with were the television producer and professional camera and sound men from fear factor. Nice, polite, people, each and every one of them. They were already in the bar for some time before I joined them, and I was literally there for maybe 10 minutes. I had one beer, and the only reason I even had that was because the manager offered it to me, and I didn’t want to deny his generous gesture. I left no tip, because I didn’t take care of the bill. Someone else in the group got it. I don’t know exactly how much was left for a tip, but this waitress is saying it was $5.00.

Now again, bare in mind I have no idea how long those guys were there before me, but it couldn’t have been for more than 30 minutes, because all we were doing was waiting for everyone to change their clothes after the days work and meet downstairs at the bar so we could all head out to dinner together.

After reading this “story” I called my friend Peter the producer, and I asked him how many rounds those guys had.

He said one round of 3 drinks. At most 2 rounds.

Again, I would like to point out that these guys never sat down at a table, they were only sitting at the bar.

I came down from my room into the bar, and this loud, possibly retarded waitress goes “Hey, YOU’RE THE GUY FROM SURVIVOR!”

And I said something like “yup.” and I walked over to my friends.

As if I’m supposed to sit down and field questions from this dumb dumb for some predetermined period of time because she (incorrectly) identified me.

And if I don’t, then I’m an asshole.

Now, if she came up to me and said “Hey, I just want to say that I like your show.” or something along that line, I would have said to myself “Oh, here’s a nice person.” And I would have said something like “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

“Hey, YOU’RE THE GUY FROM SURVIVOR” is nothing more than a warning shot as far as I’m concerned, and you don’t have to let me know you’re a dope more than once.

The weird thing, is that although they think it’s rude that I don’t want to talk to them, they don’t see anything wrong with staring at me and talking, pointing in my direction like I’m some fucking monkey in the zoo or something.

That’s not rude. I often feel like it must be a very similar feeling that a monkey at the zoo has when he’s staring out at retarded tourists with Bermuda shorts and fat mouths full of hot dogs as they point at him. The only difference is that the monkeys can’t talk about it on a website, and they can’t leave. That’s one of the reasons I hate zoos I think.

That’s fucking monkey prison right there.

But I digress…

To help put all this into perspective, being a celebrity is a whole lot like being a hot chick.

If you’re a hot chick, and you’re just minding your own business, and you walk through a bar to meet your friends, and someone says “Hey, you’re hot!” Most women with half a brain and a modicum of self esteem would just ignore that person and keep walking.

That’s basically the same thing that happens when you’re famous and you walk into a bar.

When someone comes up to you, or like the story in question, even weirder, when someone that actually works at the place you’re at comes up to you and barks out, “Hey, YOU’RE THE GUY FROM SURVIVOR”, the smart thing to do is to very quickly acknowledge that someone has talked to you and keep moving.

That’s what I did. And I think we all know what happens all the time when a hot chick ignores a drunk moron at a bar. Almost without fail the expression “Stuck up cunt” will be applied. “Asshole,” to the famous person, “stuck up cunt” to the hot chick. Basically the same shit.

As for the drunk lady that came up to me asking for an autograph for her son and I ignored her, what ACTUALLY happened was that I was having a quiet conversation about some fairly important shit with a friend of mine, and this lady jumped right in and interrupted us.

“No, excuse me, can I ask you a question…” Just stepped right in between us and started yapping, spraying drunken dungeon breath on us.

To describe her as “drunk” is quite an understatement, and her breath smelled like she just ate 150 shit sandwiches and had a drunken mariachi band fart in her mouth for an hour. I still signed the napkin for her son, although I was secretly hoping that he would never get it, because she would be hit in the face by a meteor while arguing with her equally drunken husband in the parking lot.

I also signed some menus for the chef.

Now, none of that “he said, she said” shit is worth discussing for the most part, but what really pisses me off is the accusation that I’m a lousy tipper. The reason that pisses me off is because it couldn’t possibly be further from the truth. I ALWAYS leave huge tips. Everywhere I go. I do it for several reasons; because I feel privileged, and incredibly lucky to be able to make a great living, and I like the feeling of spreading the love.

I also do it because unlike my job, waiting on tables is hard work, and I think they deserve a lot more than they get. I know they get stiffed all the time, and I know a lot of people suck. When someone gives me a bill, and when I give them a giant tip and they have to do a double take when they look at it, and then come back and say “are you sure?” I love that feeling. It makes me so happy. I made someone’s night. I know what it’s like to need money, and someone giving you a $100.00 tip for a $100.00 meal can turn a sucky night right the fuck around.

It feels great, and I do it all the time. I regularly give tips that are more than the actual bill itself, and even if the service SUCKS I at least give 20%.

Now, if you’re still reading this story- (and if you are, it must be a pretty slow day at work) and you feel like calling them, and possibly getting their side of the story, I totally understand that, so here’s their number: (401) 351-4500 1-888-344-6861 toll free

If you wanted to visit them and get their side of the story, here’s their address:

11 Dorrance Street

Providence, Rhode Island 02903

And if you feel like emailing them, here’s the email link to the website:

McCormick & Schmick’s email

In case you’re the owner of this restaurant, and you wonder what kind of bitter, delusional wait staff you might have working for you that would leave a bullshit, anonymous post on a website, the night in question was Wednesday, September 28th.

By the way, I would like to state for the record that the restaurant has great oysters, and the Biltmore is a great hotel. Obviously this has nothing to do with them.

I’m just sick and fucking tired of hearing people talking shit because they’re insecure or angry, or their pussy hurts that day, so they just decide to lash out and lie.

If you’re still reading this, and you’re thinking “why the fuck does Joe Rogan, stand up comedian, host of Fear Factor and the UFC give a shit enough about what some dopey bitch writes about him to waste his precious time making this website post? Well, mostly because I hate liars, and I had some free time today, but still, you’re right.

You’ve got a great point.

I blame the weed.