From the ediTORIal page on Tori Spelling.com, comes this delightful story of an awkward date with an up-and-coming Hollywood actor, who shall remain nameles (but you are more than welcome to leave your guesses in the comment section):
“Back in my 20s when I was on 90210, I was at a club one night and bumped into a guy that I hadn’t seen since high school. Back in the day, he went to school with some of my best friends and was the hottest jock around. Now, he was an up and coming actor and was even more uber-hot. We chatted a bit, and he asked if he could take me on a date.”
Tori agreed, and that weekend he took her to the ritziest restaurant in Beverly Hills.
“A maître d’ in a black bow tie and vest escorted us to our two top table in the middle of the restaurant. Mr. Right held my hand as we crossed the restaurant and he pulled my chair out for me at the table. This date so far was perfection! We each were handed a giant, thick velvet and gold embossed menu. It was the type of restaurant that’s so schmancy, they don’t even list prices next to the apps and entrees. My eyes glazed over in a foodie trance as I saw bone marrow and duck salad, oysters Rockefeller, pan seared foie gras on toast points, and braised lamb shank pappardelle pasta. I was hoping he didn’t see the slight trail of drool coming out of the right corner of my MAC red lips.
“But before I could ask, ‘What are you going to order?’, he announced, slamming down his menu, ‘I’m not very hungry. What do you say we just get drinks?’ What? Was this really happening? Was braised lamb shank not in my future? I weighed the heavenly bone marrow against his perfectly chiseled jaw and adorably prominent dimples and replied, ‘Sure. I then selfishly prayed for breadsticks that would never come. He ordered us both Rum and Cokes. Oh no! I was a wine girl. I didn’t usually drink hard alcohol. But, I had to act cool, so I went with it.
“Well, four rum and cokes and two hours of a one-way conversation later, I was way too drunk and bored. Did he want to know anything about me? I was feeling sick. Actually, the room started spinning at this point, as he went on and on about how David Charvet robbed him blind from what would have been his breakout role on Baywatch. When suddenly his dimples started floating up on his forehead I knew I had to find a bathroom and quick. I excused myself from the riveting conversation and bolted for the bathroom. I just kept telling myself, ‘Don’t make eye contact with the restaurant patrons, or their amazingly delicious meals, and walk straight.’ Then, I saw it, the door. The bathroom door! Five more steps, and I’d be safely in a bathroom stall where I could puke my guts out in privacy. Classy, I know. I pushed open the door, smiled with victory, and walked right into…the kitchen. Oh no!
“The whole kitchen staff looked up at me. It was bustling and I was busting. I put my hands up to cover my mouth, but I knew it was too late. A waiter rushed over with a massive copper saucepan where I proceeded to vomit the four rum and cokes and the cliff bar I had had at 11am into it. It was Donna Martin prom night all over again. I was mortified!”
To read the whole horrible story, and see how it ends (HINT: NOT WELL), go here.