Joe and I went out to dinner on Saturday for his Birthday. We went to a Greek place in Malibu which was kind of tucked into a corner of an upscale mall-ish place. Our server knew all the right things to say such as ‘may I take your order?’ and ‘yes, you’re very welcome.’ Her manner and affect, however, were awesome. Imagine a family run business where everyone has a part to play, like it or not. Now imagine you’re in your early twenties and are so bored you’re actually not even surly anymore. You’re just barely participating in the dance of waiting on the customers and when you say ‘would you like some more iced tea?’ you’re looking out the window and your cadence and tone don’t change. A robot. She could have been a robot. And Joe and I were giggling by the time we left, it was that obvious and that funny. We tried to thank her with pizazz just to see if we could shake her, but it didn’t work.
The food was great, though.
We were on our way out and had just about made it to the car when suddenly there were photographers everywhere and flashes going off. We saw Denise Richards with someone that could have been her dad. They were walking, not slowing down. Her face looked drawn behind her sunglasses and there was something about the way she walked that showed she was used to this hoopla. I’ve never seen paparazzi before and man, that does not look fun. They were swirling around her, some running a few steps ahead and then quickly turning to get a front shot and others flanking them on the sides. And all she was doing was walking. I felt sorry for her. I can see why someone might want to punch one of them every now and again. I do not ever want to be famous.
I have been by that Greek place but never eaten there. I get a burrito at the place over on the street by Coffee Bean.
Sometimes bad service is great. My friends and I used to go to a pho place that was classic. Friend: Which would you recommend, #7 or #9? Waitress: #7 Friend: Oh, is that one better? Waitress: No, but 7 is my favorite number.
Unfortunately they have gotten better. We still go back but it is not as fun.
You are famous among hundreds. Maybe thousands. Which is about right. No paparazzi will harass you but you can blush a little when someone says “Oh, I LOVE you!!”
Weird. I had lunch at the Tavern Saturday afternoon.
i agree, that is no way to live. i’ve often wondered how some folks manage to go their entire careers without having the paps up their arses.
you are famous, but in a much better way than being trampled by crazy paps.
I’ve always wondered why Hollywood millionaires that loathe the press live in Los Angeles. Move to San Diego or Maui and then travel back when it is time to work.
Your dinner sounds too funny. The way you described it made me laugh out loud. I can just picture her robotic responses and mannerisms.
I used to think that people who complained about the paparazzi were whiny, but the more I see and read about how they act and what they’ll go to to get a picture of someone buying a latte, I have to admit it makes me feel a little bit sorry for those celebrities. Unfortunately, there are too many people out there who live to read the gossip and see the random photos to ever get rid of the paparazzi.
After I read this, I realized that I was feeling something I’d never felt before: sympathy for Denise Richards. It would totally suck to have that swirling around you every time you went out.
um. who is Denise Richards?
I bet Denise Richards would have traded places with you in a second to be out for dinner with the love of her life :). You two sound like awesome dinner companions. I would have loved to witness the exuberant thanking of the waitress.