"TMI Allie"

I generally tried to maintain just enough contact with Allie so that she wouldn't start gossiping about ME behind my back, as she did about those at Brady's whom she judged as believing they were better than she. Well, Allie, if "better" means not addicted to painkillers, lies and bad-news boyfriends, then, yes, I guess most of us were indeed better. But we didn't want to set her off, delicate as she was, and always ready to launch into the next desperate and unbelievable story at any moment.

Not that any one person or thing could actually set Allie off. You just never knew when the tirade would begin. She would appear out of nowhere, arms around your patrons, and spill entirely Too Much Information on the helplessly captive audience. Usually she was trying to work the sympathy card, sadly relaying how hopeless and desperate her life was, just to work the good tips. But when she invaded another waitress's (or even mine, as bartender) section to unload her personal baggage on the poor unsuspecting diners, we weren't really sure what her strategy was.

We just knew that she was awfully close to insane, but could push that aside and expertly rattle off dinner and wine specials like she was born to wait tables. (Actually, this was her life's calling since she was a naive and fresh-faced 16-year old). Then she would throw in an awkward snippet of Allie drama, and customers and waitresses alike would cringe. At the end of the night, when we'd head over to Charters for a drink, we had to unload the night's "Allies" onto each other -- each one embarrassing us more than the last, especially when she turns on that awful half-Boston, half-uneducated accent:

"She grabbed that poor man's hand, placed it on her stomach, and said 'I didn't get fat like this by passing up on the frickin' FAB-u-LOUS deserts here.'You gotta try 'em!'" Gina told us last week.

"Gross!!!" we'd all agree, in unison.

"What about when she said to that judge, "Helloooooo Counseloh - is this your beautiful wife -- or maybe it's youhr mistress?"

And there were always a few "Hows would youzzz like some coffees" and "How youzz doin' tonight?" Those were par for the course - just a regular night of dealing with Allie.

She would often size up our customers for their buying power, and then slyly (not really) pull us aside, if it were our customer, and say, in her famous Irish Whisper, "You've got a MILLIONAIRE there!" or "Don't bother being sweet to him; he's a CHEAP bastahd." Most of the girls would tell her to get lost at this point. That's just what she would do, but she would remember to punch into the system later just to check what the millionaire or the cheap bastard actually did tip us.

And how she knew each one of our I.D. numbers was a mystery to us. Either, she had an in with Jason, or was actually a lot more clever than anyone gives her credit for. Whatever the case, we didn't like that someone like Allie had access to all of information. Once she actually changed another waitress's order, and then swooped in with the correct dinner, which she just so happened to have hot and ready, when the customer started to get angry about the mistake. Then she said to him, in front of the other waitress, "Next time youuz come in, you just ask for me, and I'll take good care of ya," with a wink and a pat on the back.

We could never actually prove that she messed with the computer. And she of course denied any wrongdoing. But things like this over the past few months, have not endeared Allie to me in the least.

And Jason can't be unaware of all her antics, but he sure acts like it. Maybe there's more to Jason and Allie than anyone really knows, too. That could also explain Allie's obsession with Leslie's rumored affair with him. And that would explain why Allie cornered Leslie last week and asked point-blank, in "Allie dialect" :"I hear you're F---ing Jason. Is it true?"