Category Archives: Dr. Phil

Bitchy Waiter on Dr. Phil, 9/12/11

Surely you all must know by now that a few weeks ago, I was jetted out to the City of Angels to be on an episode of Dr. Phil. They were doing a show called “Brat Ban” and asked me to come and stand behind my opinion about children being banned from certain restaurants. In my mind, they got wind of this blog post and liked my sense of humor and writing style. In truth, they probably reached out to every other waiter/blogger and I was the only one needy and ego-driven enough to appear. We all know that Dr. Phil was birthed from the loins of Oprah herself so being a guest on his show was as close as I would ever get to being on the Oprah show, so I latched on to the opportunity. Once the producers agreed to let me use a fake ass name and mention my blog at least once, I was even more excited about it. So I did it. The time has come for the episode to air.

Monday September 12 is the day. Check your local listings here.

A producer called me yesterday and said that it was last minute but it was happening. According to some press releases, September 12th is Dr. Phil’s 10th season premiere and he is supposed to be interviewing George and Cindy Anthony about a murder trial. Clearly, I need to have the channel on something other than HGTV and Food Network, because I didn’t know who they were. However, according to producers, Monday’s show will now be about bratty children instead, and that’s where I come in. So set your DVR’s and Tivo’s if you want to see the Bitchy Waiter make his first national television appearance. Yes, I was booed a couple of times but it was worth it to hear Dr. Phil actually refer to me as Bitchy Waiter. And no, I will not be wearing a bag over my head or have a pixelated blob over my face. Instead, I washed my hair, curled my eyelashes and ironed a shirt. I hope you will tune in. I did not feel a lot of love at that show. Apparently, the studio audience loved their children more than me but their “boos” and “hisses” filled my hollow heart with joy and I ate it up.

It was a great experience. The trip was fun, the hotel was nice and it makes for a great story. I met some other great people including blogger Jennifer who writes Perfectly Disheveled. It’s kind of a mommy blog but some of you might want to check her out.

Set those DVR’s, people. Monday September 12th on Dr. Phil, you will finally hear my nasal voice and see the bird’s nest I call my hair. Here is the preview from You Tube. And yes, that is me bitching about chicken fingers and peanut butter and jelly.


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Swimmin’ Pools, Movie Stars

The flight from New York to Los Angeles is a long one even under the best of circumstances. Normally, I am one of the few people who can actually enjoy their time on an airplane. I find the time to be completely devoid of responsibility. It’s six hours where you are free to waste your time sleeping and watching bad movies. When you factor in that I was on the flight because someone else was paying for it so I could go on national television and talk about being The Bitchy Waiter, you’d think I was in Heaven at 34,000 feet. Not this flight.

The flight was a full one with not open free seat. Since I didn’t buy the ticket myself and had no say in my seat assignment, I ended up smack dab in the middle of the plane. No window or aisle seat for me, thanks. Two rows in front of me was a baby who wanted his presence known. This adorable crotch dumpling (thank you for the word, reader) cried for half of the flight. It was not a little whimper and sniff kind of cry. It sounded like there was a circumcision happening in aisle 33 seat B. I kept wondering when I would see a doctor throw the foreskin into the bag of trash that the flight attendant had as she walked down the aisle. I looked at the plastic bag my American Airlines blanket had been in and wondered if the baby would like to play with it despite the warning on it that said “this bag is not a toy.”

To the left of me was a man I envied because he told me was taking an Ambien and a muscle relaxer. He did just that. Then he put in earphones and blew up his little neck pillow and drifted off to slumber land for the entire flight. I considered asking for an Ambien but the only thing I had to barter with was a granola bar and half empty bottle of water. Thankfully, he didn’t snore and had he left his bag within easy access, I would have pilfered through it trying to find some peace and quiet in the form of a pill..

To the right of me was a very large man who looked like he had just come from doing extra work on Yentl. Oy. He poured himself into his seat and his odor drifted into my seat along with a portion of his extra body mass. You know what your gym shorts smell like after you do cardio and you maybe had just had a bowel movement where some baby wipes would have been helpful but you didn’t have any so you settle for “clean enough” but who cares since you’re going to the gym anyway? I wish he smelled that good. Something about layers and layers of black wool being worn on a hot muggy day creates an odor that is very special indeed. Add to that a big gray beard that goes to your chest and holds onto sweat the way I hold onto a margarita glass and you have a really miserable seat mate. And why does he not realize that the arm rest is for both of us to share? Of course he fell asleep almost instantly after having three phone conversations as we taxied down the runway. When he got up once to go the bathroom he returned with whatever stench had been living in the toilet. He fell asleep again but this time he made sure to face me so his foul breath could come in my direction as he snored. I was holding on to a fart for about two hours but eventually let it go in a futile attempt to freshen the air.

When I finally landed in The City of Angels, my driver was waiting to take me to my hotel. I checked in at midnight and ignored the idea of beauty sleep and called a friend to come get me. We ate at some 24 hour diner called Mel’s. With my love for Flo, how could I not? We spent the late hours walking down the Hollywood Walk of Fame looking for the stars of Florence Henderson, Polly Holiday and Shirley Hemphill. When I found Ann B. Davis’ star, I knew I had made it. I was in Hollywood! Dr. Phil was waiting for me, so I forced myself to get some sleep in preparation for the next day where I would go on national television and proclaim my hatred of children in my station. So what, I only had three hours of sleep? Surely, Dr. Phil’s people would have some concealer to cover the bags under my eyes.

Stay tuned to hear more about my Hollywood adventure.