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Jesus Has Risen and I Know Why, Do You?

Happy Easter

Happy Easter

We all know that today is Easter and it’s the day that Christians acknowledge the resurrection of Jesus Christ who rose from the dead three days after he was crucified. It’s a long story about him dying for our sins and being the son of God and all that and I’m sure most of you know the details, but I have it on very good authority that Jesus had an additional reason for breaking out of that tomb and freaking everybody out. He forgot to tip his server, Martha, at the Last Supper.

Have you ever realized, days later, that you left a restaurant without leaving a tip? It happens sometimes and if you’re a good person, you make amends. You call the restaurant and explain your forgetfulness and then swing back by to drop some money for your server who has been cursing your cheap ass for three days. This is exactly what happened to Jesus.

At the Last Supper, he was obviously distracted with thoughts of his upcoming crucifixion so who can blame him for forgetting to leave a tip? That Thursday of the Last Supper was a very stressful day for Jesus. He had made a reservation for thirteen people at the Jerusalem Applebee’s, but when they showed up to the restaurant, the hostess had nothing in her book about their party.

“Sorry, Jesus, no room at the inn,” she said. “And we’re all booked up. There’s a convention of Romans in town right now and they have every single table for, like, the next four hours.”

Of course Jesus was pissed off but he turned the other cheek and had to come up with another plan. He ended up at some catering hall that had a last minute cancellation of a bat mitzvah and that was where the Last Supper was held. His waitress was his old friend Martha. The dinner was very stressful, what with Peter denying everything and Thomas doubting it all, but it happened and when the bill came, Jesus just looked at the total and paid it. He assumed the gratuity was included. It wasn’t.

So that next day, Jesus was crucified and as he was on the cross, he had a lot of time to think about things. He thought about Mary Magdalene and how she was really a much nicer person than most people gave her credit for. He thought about how his Dad (Joseph, not God) really needed to start exercising more if he wanted to live long enough to see more of the years A.D. He thought about how disappointing it was to have not had Applebee’s Riblets for his last meal. But he never once thought about Martha’s tip. When he died and was moved into the tomb, he was there for three days, when suddenly a tiny spark in his brain woke him up. “Oh Jesus Me Christ,” he said. “I didn’t leave a tip and I don’t know if the gratuity was added or not. I gotta get out of here.” He summoned his Dad (God, not Joseph) and asked that he be brought back to life. God was all, “Yes, my son, you shall have everlasting life in the Kingdom of Heaven and the world will know that you died for all of their sins.”

Jesus was all, “Well, I kinda just needed to go leave a tip for my waitress, but okay.”

“And boom, for he is risen.” Matthew 28:6.

Jesus walked out of that tomb and went right over to the catering hall and found Martha. “Oh my Dad, I totally forgot to tip you,” he said. ‘I am so sorry.”

“Jesus, you’re back! I knew you wouldn’t have stiffed me! You came all the way back from the dead to tip me? You are too good, Jesus.” She kissed his hands in thanks.

“Well, it was an honest mistake, Martha, I was just so distracted that day. You gave us great service and I couldn’t not tip you. Please accept my apologies. I’d like to give you something.”

He reached into his pocket and handed her what looked to be a ten-shekel bill.

“Ten shekels? You are too generous, Jesus. I don’t deserve all this! God bless you!”

“Turn it over,” said Jesus.

Martha looked at the other side of the ten-shekel bill. There was writing on it.

“There is a greater tip for you than ten shekels. I died for your sins and letting me into your heart is more reward than any currency. I love you.”

“Are you freaking kidding me?” asked Martha.

But Jesus was gone.

Happy Easter.

Foreplay at Table 7

get a fucking room

get a room

Spring time made a brief appearance last week and it must have sent people’s hormones into a tizzy right up there with their allergies. The night at the restaurant started off normally with a couple who were happy to be with one another. There was sweet hand holding across the table and some goo-goo eyes going on, but nothing out of the ordinary. Then the next table that came in was the same way. And the next one and the next one after that. At one point, we counted five out of the six two-tops holding hands and it wasn’t even fucking Valentine’s Day. (Or if you’re my boss, Valentimes’s Day…). Spring is in the air.

Then came in the couple who sat at Table 7 and they made everyone else look like they were on their first date at the Sadie Hawkins dance in the sixth grade. These people looked like they were ready to slap on some lube and get busy in a booth. Of course they sat on the same side of the booth. I don’t get that. I want to be able to look at the person I am eating with without having to turn my neck 90º. I suppose same-side booth sitting is helpful for hand jobs, but not much else. This woman is a regular but she has been in with many different men over the months and years. “Whore” is such a strong word, but for the sake of this blog, let’s call her that. Whore is the touchy feely type with her dates and always insists that they be touching each other throughout dinner. She floats somewhere between smothering and controlling. The guy she is with this night seems just as into it as she is. Their hands are intertwined and he keeps brushing the hair out of her eyes. She, in return, brushes his hair out of his eyes. I hold back the voms.

I hate to interrupt their foreplay, but I do need to see what they want to order for dinner, so I wrap myself in a condom and approach the table. I don’t want to accidentally end up in an unprotected threesome. After reciting the specials, they quickly decide on an appetizer and entrees and go back to making sweet sweet love with their eyes. Her arm is constantly around her beau’s shoulders and she stares longingly into his beady little rat face. His hand are in her lap and I can’t be sure what was going on below the table, but I cannot rule anything out, because “horny” is an understatement for this pair.

When their zucchini pancakes are ready, I slide them onto the table managing to keep a safe distance of any errant bodily fluids that may be coming from them and then I retreat to the bar to continue watching the show. The zucchini pancakes come with a sour cream and chive dipping sauce. It is remotely disgusting to watch him dip his finger into the ramekin and then put that finger into her mouth as she sucks it clean. If this is any indication of what is to come, there is a very sloppy and very awkward blow job in their future and I can only pray that it happens after they leave my section.

Their food comes out of the kitchen; penne pasta with a mushroom cream sauce and the roasted chicken breast. In between bites, they give each other little kisses, his porcini-y, hers brussel sprouty. She goes to town on that chicken skin and I think that if this guy is not circumcised already, he most definitely will be by the end of the night. They eat their food quickly and as I clear the empty plates away, he releases a soft burp in her general direction. I imagine it to smell like mushroom, zucchini and uncertainty.

They ask for their check and she goes to the restroom to either wash her hands or insert some form of birth control. When she returns, she leans over the table while her boyfriend signs the credit card voucher. His hand is resting on her ass and my eyes are resting on his fingers as they slowly creep lower and lower towards her nether region. When his hand is just to that perfect point to cup her ass, his fingers then slowly slide into her taint area. The bartender and I watch with horror as she tosses her hair and giggles. These people need to go right now. I will clean up spilled soda, spilled water and spilled coffee, but I will not clean up spilled pre-ejaculate.

Spring is in the air.

20 Ways Servers Have “Gotten Even”

yep

yep

Yesterday, I posted on the Bitchy Waiter Facebook page an article about servers getting revenge on especially horrible customers, or if not revenge, then wonderful examples of karma. The article had three amusing little anecdotes, but I knew that the people who read Bitchy Waiter would have way better stories, so I asked to hear some favorite moments of mean customers getting what they deserve. And boy oh boy, there were some doozies. By reposting some of these stories, I am in no way condoning such atrocious behavior. I would never treat any of my lovely customers with such disrespect and it’s not like I spit into a glass of lemonade in 1990 at the Black Eyed Pea on Highway 290 in Houston, Texas when I heard a hillbilly asshole customer call me a faggot.

WARNING: What you are about to read is not for the faint of heart. Here are the top 20 ways that servers “got even” or saw karma raise its beautiful head at customers who were less than nice. The list only get worse as it goes down, so if it gets to be too much for you, click here to escape the horror.

And always be nice to your server.

 

20. Jennie: Last week actually I had the typical dbag gf/apologetic bf duo, and she was so ridiculously rude, that every diet coke I gave her was actually regular coke.

19. Elizabeth: Karma is revenges best friend. I had a women who was rude, and ran me ragged the whole meal, bad tip no surprise there. She visited the ladies room before she left. Walked back to the table to collect her things and proceeded to leave, yup a 2 foot long piece of toilet paper stuck to her shoe!!! I walked behind her with the biggest smile on my face! Enjoyed every single second! Ha ha!

18. Priscilla: I once had a table of teens dine and dash. Only, one of the young dudes somehow managed to forget his crutches. So, when he hobbled back in I made him pay the whole table. Karma served perfectly, if you ask me.

17. Michelle: Not so much getting revenge as karma being a bitch. One time I had a lady that wanted 12 different checks – then yelled at me that I was taking too long to separate them. She walks out to her car to find a parking ticket for parking in handicapped parking. Best. Day. Ever.

16. Megan: I had an ex boyfriend who managed to get a customer’s name and address. The man was married so my ex sent gay porn to their house…

15. Erika: Guests left their birthday present $50 Starbucks gift card after leaving $10 on $200. I’ve been filling up on free coffee alllllll week!

14. Amanda: I have had this one couple that I have served for 5 years and they are AWFUL! demanding, demeaning, and horrible tippers. The one day the wife left a super expensive Burberry scarf, I just didn’t have the time to run after them to return it…and I now have a really nice scarf.

13. Laurie: Nasty bitch — top notch wench customer — Was lucky enough the next morning when I was out for breakfast with my kids to see her sitting in dining room of popular local restaurant . My youngest was still in baby carrier. I whacked her right in the head with it as I walked by, and I bent down looked her in the eye & said OOPS — loudly, sarcastically and with a little laugh.

12. Zackary: I had a table of 4 Applebee’s Corporate asshats (I was not working at Applebee’s) that got upset with me because i raised an eyebrow after the 15TH OBAN (scotch) NEAT and then complained to my boss in a drunken rage. Needless to say i asked my friend who is a manager for Applebee’s about him and apparently that night he got a DUI.

11. Matteo: I worked with a gal who used to “butter” asshole customers… basically this would consist of placing a blob of warm butter on the top of your hand, on the fleshy bit between your thumb and forefinger…and then you would go to the table, put your hand on the back of the customer’s chair and lean in to ask how everything is..as you lean in the part of your hand that has the butter on it touches the back of their shoulder, dress, jacket, whatever, and a gentle twist and release move is all that is needed to leave the melting blob behind… really messes up a suede jacket…she was my hero.

10. Ruth: I’ve always been lucky enough to be tipped well ! But a few summers ago, ( deck outside) 2 guys sat and drank beer all day. ! Didn’t turn my table over for 5 hours ! There bill was 185 , no tip …….. As I was leaving , my shift was over , someone came up from behind and asked if they could give them a boost because there car wouldn’t start. ! Guess who. ??! I told them I could for $185.

9. April: Many years ago, I waited on 2 asshats that gave me exact change for their bill. After they left, I went over to clean their table, and they had dropped $200 on the floor. They called a couple hours later asking if someone had found the money. As if! If they had been respectable and tipped, I would have given it back to them.

8. Sarah: I was managing one night on the patio of an upscale restaurant. I was doing table visits, and one patron told me his steak was terrible, that he could get a better piece of meat at McDonald’s. I offered to replace it and comp it, but he continued yelling at me about it, so I walked away. 10 minutes later I came back with a McDonald’s cheeseburger and fries. I played it up and sprinkled parsley on it. I dropped the plate in front of him and said, “there’s your better piece of meat sir. All you had to do was ask.” And walked away. He got up from his table came after me, and to my surprise he was laughing. He became a regular and would often bring business associates in and relive the story of how I put him in his place.

7. Nicole: One time this girl was being a total cunt to one of our kindest bartenders. The bitch had ordered a steak salad. We poured a 4 oz ramekin of dirty dishwater over the entire entree salad, and watched her eat every bite. “Tastes great!”

6. Kezwick: Worked at a casual dining spot in Brooklyn… Woman at my table was so unhappy with her meal (and life) that she called me a bitch to my face, among other words (classy, right?) She paid her bill and left, and as I was clearing the table I notice a fake coach wallet/ iPhone case (prob her prized possession)… No iPhone but packed with credit cards, cash, etc… Walked down the street and threw that shit RIGHT in the corner trash can…. Whoops!?!? Some hobo picking through the trash had an awesome day.

5. Justin: Those “extra lemons!” you rudely barked at me for repeatedly even though I was obviously very busy and had already brought you enough to cure a small nation of scurvy? They all came from the floor in the kitchen. Enjoy!

4. Shelby: Made an excellent milkshake for this guy, come back to ask how it was and he said it was terrible and he was being rude as shit. So, I took it back and when I re-made it, I balled up the scoops of ice cream and took them to the dirtiest region on our never-clean break room and rolled them around on the floor.

3. Marc: I’ve hacked a fat loogie in a guys Cesar salad before. He was my friends ex and he liked to get physical with women during a fight, so I had no problem watching him sit at my bar grubbing down on my loogie garnished Cesar.

2. Marisa: My first serving job was at a family diner, a rude guy would bring his wife and 5 kids in every Sunday because the restaurant ran a surf and turf special with lobster tail on Sundays. They ordered shakes every time, for every child. The guy was always a huge tool, always made his kids snap in the air to get my attention and ALWAYS tipped exactly one dollar, handed to me while he laughed and said “don’t spend that all in one place” which would get snickers from the wife and kids while they walked out the door. One Sunday, I saved the dollar and used it to make his change the following Sunday (he always paid in cash, the bill was always $86.15 in 1994) I had of course wiped my ass with it.

1. Ryan: Had a lady send a margarita back 3 times… On the fourth time I dipped my nuts in it and sent it back. She must have liked it because I didn’t see it again.

And this is where all the sanctimonious servers out there can condemn those of us who have stooped so low….

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Customer Throws Ketchup Bottles, Caught on Tape

"Don't make me throw a ketchup bottle!"

“Don’t make me throw a ketchup bottle!”

In an effort for customers to keep it classy, the classiest of all classy bitches was caught on videotape being as classy as classy gets. According to DNAinfo, a woman in New York City did not appreciate being asked to be quiet on her cell phone when she waltzed her ass into a Flatiron District diner and and yelled on her cell phone for thirty minutes without ordering any food. When the manager asked her to shut the fuck up, Classy Bitch went ballistic and started trashing the place.

Click here to see the most excellent video.

Latima Brown was out with a friend late one night and went into Malibu Diner at 5:10 AM. Nothing good can ever happen in a diner at 5:10 AM, right? She spit on the manager and then started grabbing anything and everything that could be thrown his way, including a glass of water, sugar caddies and a few ketchup bottles. Latima’s friend can be seen in the video trying to calm her the fuck down, but Latima is having none of it. She has a desperate need to see a ketchup bottle make contact with something. And she does. She is eventually forced out of the restaurant and is caught by the cops moments later. Latima was charged with assault and criminal mischief and was released, which means if you see some grumpy looking bitch coming into your restaurant at 5:10 in the morning, hide your wife, hide your kids and hide your ketchup bottles.

Of course, I wasn’t there, but I work right around the corner from the diner, so that gives me the right to imagine what Latima was experiencing that night caused her such anguish:

Latima and her friend Fantine had just left a late night White Elephant Party. A White Elephant Party, as defined by Wikipedia, is as follows: “each participant supplies one wrapped gift. The gifts are placed in a central location, and participants determine in what order they will take turns selecting them. The first person opens a wrapped gift and the turn ends. On subsequent turns, each person can open a new present or gets the choice to “steal” another person’s unwrapped gift. When a person’s gift is stolen, that person chooses another wrapped gift to open. The game is over when the last person has taken their turn.” Those parties can be really fun, but if you get stuck with a crappy present, it can be areal bummer. Latima was the loser at the party. She was the second to the last person to open a gift and she was surprised and delighted to find a brand new FryDaddy®.

“I want this FryDaddy®, so don’t anybody think you’re taking it,” she said. “I have been craving some fried hot dogs all week and I will fuck you up if you take this mother fuckin’ FryDaddy®, you hear me?”

There was only one person left to play the game and it was Fatima’s arch enemy, Blair. Blair and Latima had gone to high school together and had never gotten along. Blair was prom queen, homecoming queen, valedictorian, most likely to succeed and the drum major. Fatima was none of those things but was voted Blow Job Queen in an informal poll that took place on the wall of the third floor boys’ restroom.

Blair had to choose between the last unopened present or the any present that had been already open. Her eyes fell upon the FryDaddy® that Fatima had already put inside her huge purse. Blair remembered back in high school how one day Fatima had taken the last hot dog in the cafeteria. Blair was before Fatima in line, but Fatima had reached in front of her and grabbed the last one forcing Blair to eat potato chips for lunch that day. Fatima loves her some hot dogs, fried or otherwise. This was Blair’s chance to pay that thieving hot dog bitch back.

“Ummm, okay…I think I want to steal a present that’s already been opened.”

Fatima clutched her purse tightly. “You better be stealing something other than my FryDaddy®, bitch,” she said.

“Well, I really really hate to do this, but…I want… the… FryDaddy®!” She walked over to Fatima and yanked the FryDaddy® from her purse. “You can open the last present, Fatima. Who knows? Maybe it’s another FryDaddy®.”

Fatima was pissed, but Fantine helped calm her down by handing her the last unopened present. Fatima slowly pulled the wrapping paper from the box. The whole room was on the edge of their seat because whatever Fatima got was hers to keep. There is no trading when you’re the last one at a White Elephant Party.

“This better be another mother fucking FryDaddy®!” she said.

She opened the box to reveal her gift: a candle holder that had been made from an old ketchup bottle that had been covered with papier-mâché and dripping candle wax of all different colors.

“Awww, hell no, that ain’t right. That ain’t fucking right. This bitch gets a FryDaddy® and all I get is a shitty ass mother fuckin’ ketchup bottle that some bitch tried to make fancy in a fucking art class in the 7th grade? This is bullshit. Bull. Shit.”

Fast forward two hours later and Fatima is at Malibu Diner still upset and yelling into the phone to her sister about her horrible night. She has every right to be angry. Blair practically stole that FryDaddy® from her. She was so upset that she yelled to her sister for thirty minutes. It is this moment when the manger calmly asked her to please quite down. The rest is caught on tape and now you understand why she was mad enough to throw ketchup bottles at a wall.

Restaurant Owner Calls Out Yelp Reviewer and It’s Wonderful

Sorry, Johnny and Alexa.

Sorry, Johnny and Alexa.

I don’t know many people who work in the service industry who like Yelp. Yelp has become a website that lets people think they are very important restaurant critics who have opinions that matter. Any Tom, Dick or Hairy Asshole can get on their Yelp app and fill themselves with self-importance. Too many restaurant owners and managers live and breathe by the Yelp reviews and when a customer specifically calls out a server by name, it can get pretty dicey. Of course there are times that people will write a review and praise their server and the service, but more often than not, the only time someone bothers with naming names is to place blame and point fingers.

The Australian Grill, a restaurant in Carlsbad, California, has an owner who is not going to let someone post unjustified negative shit about her restaurant and get away with it. When someone named Johnny W. went in recently with a Groupon (I hate Groupon even more than I hate Yelp), he was very unhappy with his experience. Poor little Johnny wanted happy hour drinks with his Groupon even though everyone on the planet knows that Groupon is already a deal and you can’t use it with other offers. “Not valid with any other offers” is printed all over the goddamn Groupon. When the whiny little bitch didn’t get his way, he did what most men with small penises do, which is try to compensate for their lack of size in one area by emphasizing another area. In Johnny’s case, he decided to emphasize his humongous brain and his ability to open up his Yelp app on his phone. He complained about his poor service, the price of the food and the fact that he couldn’t get happy hour prices with his Groupon. He claims that had the service been better, they “probably would have spent much more on food and drinks.” Bitch, please. You already complained that you thought it was overpriced so you expect anyone to believe that had they been nicer to you, you would have been happy to spend more money? He also complains that the owner seemed upset that they only spent the bare minimum with the Groupon. Ummm, hello? Anyone who has ever had the misfortune of serving someone with a Groupon already knows that you are only going to spend the bare minimum. It’s what you Groupon people do. Anyhoo, Johnny threw his review up on Yelp and it’s interesting to note that this is his first and only review, proving my point that people are quicker to complain than compliment. He thought that was the end of it. Nope.

ouch

ouch

The owner, Stefanie, responded and called his ass out by name. Can we get a “whoop whoop” for Stefanie?? She asserts that they were friendly to him until his little bitch ass started to cry when he couldn’t get happy hour prices if he still wanted to use his precious Groupon. She also called him a “seasoned coupon clipper” which is totally mean, bitchy, uncalled for and I love it.  She goes on to call out his friend who was with him, Alexa Kliebenstein. Stefanie tells the world of Yelpers that Johnny W. and Alexa stiffed the waiter by only leaving 18 cents and that they bolted out of of the restaurant with the server not far behind. She also claims that the server fronted them $6 because they didn’t have enough money to cover their check. She makes it clear that they are not welcome back to the restaurant and for other servers to be aware of these cheap assholes.

Stefanie is my hero of the day. She understands that, too often, Yelp is a platform for people to try to negatively impact businesses when they don’t get what they want. It’s important to respond to critics who have unjustified complaints. He has a right to think it’s overpriced, but I looked at the menu and it seems fair to me. It’s more expensive than some restaurants but less expensive than others, so it’s a subjective complaint. He thinks the service was rude but that was only after they wouldn’t give him what he wanted and then he was even ruder in return. And he can’t complain that happy hour and Groupon don’t mix. Rules is rules, Johnny. Suck it up. Thank you to Stefanie for standing up for your restaurant and for your server. You rock.

Riddle: what do you get when you cross a Grouponer and a Yelper?
Answer: an asshole named Johnny W.

My Brush With Mariah Carey

Mariah Loves BW

Mariah Loves BW

If you follow my Facebook page (and why the hell wouldn’t you?), you may have seen my status update that said Mariah Carey was in my restaurant and that she smelled good. I am one of those “bad boys” who carries his cell phone in his apron even though it is against the rules so I immediately went to the restroom to alert anyone who may have cared. I mean, if you were waiting tables and one of the planet’s biggest superstar divas sits in your station, wouldn’t you do the same? Yes. Yes, you would.

yep

yep

Of course, my first thought was “What in the hell is she doing in this dump in Queens?” Yes, my restaurant is in in Queens; the glamour if it all. I’m at work doing my normal thing when four people walk into the place and asked for a table. It was Mariah Carey, her mom (I only know that because I Googled what she looked like), another older woman and that woman’s daughter. It seems that Mariah was visiting her aunt in Long Island somewhere and then she made it to her cousin’s house which is in my neighborhood in Queens. Voila! So, yes, Mariah Carey had lunch with her mom, aunt and cousin and they had me as their server.

Mariah smelled good. She sorta smelled like bacon. You know how when you make bacon at home and your whole apartment smells like bacon for a few hours and sometimes after you leave you catch a whiff of bacon odor emanating from your shirt? It smelled like her aunt had made bacon that morning and Mariah was there when it happened. Perhaps it was her fragrance but I’m pretty sure it was Oscar Meyer.

When I saw them at the door, I recognized Mariah immediately, because I liked her first song “Vision of Love” so much back in 1990. Her other songs since then, not so much.   I asked them if they had a reservation even though there were only two other tables occupied at the moment. I wanted her to feel like she was in a much classier place than she actually was. Let’s be honest. I work there so how classy can it be? Not very. I laughed at my own little joke and took them to the our VIP section, also known as “the back booth next to the restroom.” The first thing I said to her when she sat down was, “Don’t worry. I’ve waited on plenty of celebrities, so you’re in good hands. I’ve served Sally Field, Katy Perry, Suze Orman and Elke Krivat.”

“Who’s Elke Krivat?” she asked me.

“This woman who was married to Ben Gazzara and walked out on her check a few years ago,” I told her.

“Oh, I’ve heard of that cheap bitch before. Fuck her,” laughed Mariah.

At this point, Mariah’s mom piped in. “Language!!” she said.

The table ordered two bottles of Pelligrino and Mariah asked me to bring a bowl of cherries. They didn’t care to hear the specials because they all had their hearts set on a burger.

“This is the best burger in the neighborhood,” said the cousin. “I love it.”

I noticed that Mariah didn’t seem to really care that much about her cousin; she wasn’t really interacting that much and you could tell that this meal was definitely one of obligation rather than pleasure. There were some awkward moments of silence.

“Oh, I wish you could have brought the twins,” said cousin. “I can’t believe I’ve never even met them.”

“I know, I’m so sorry. They both had appointments today though. Monroe had a waxing and Moroccan had a teeth whitening. Bummer for you.”

I brought out their four burgers and fries and refilled their glasses with Pelligrino. I also dropped off another bowl of cherries because Mariah had gone through about ten of them. And every single time she ate one, she put the stem in her mouth and produced it threes seconds later tied into a knot. It was impressive, I must admit.

This is when I went to the restroom to update my Facebook status so the world could know about my celebrity customer of the day. As soon as I posted it, people began to question if it was an April Fools’ joke or not. Over 2,300 people “liked” the status and 130 left a comment. April Fool’s joke? Of course it was. Mariah Carey wouldn’t touch my restaurant with a ten-foot diamond and ruby encrusted pole, darlings.

This is totally NOT Photoshopped.

This is totally NOT Photoshopped.