Tirrell, who gives new meaning to “Throwdown with Bobby Flay,” used to be a hostess in one of his restaurants.
For those of you not in the U.S., Flay is a celebrity
leprechaun chef who’s saturated the market with his product endorsements.
Flay’s wife, Stephanie March, reportedly sensed something was off. According to one of her friends, D-listed reports:
“Elyse had always seemed so nervous when Stephanie came to one of the restaurants, and Stephanie, not knowing what was happening, went out of her way to compliment her and try to make her more comfortable. Elyse had even been to Stephanie’s home when she was there — and when she wasn’t.”
Oh, we’ve been there Stephanie. Making nice with the affair partner, putting them at ease because gosh, they seem so uncomfortable around you! Of course, having no idea that the weirdness is because they’re fucking your spouse. Yeah… I paid the bar tab for one…
Anyway, Blobby Lay. Did anyone NOT know this guy was a total douche? I’m sorry for Stephanie March (and best of luck enforcing your prenup or overturning it, or whatever you’re trying to do to get money off the sorry bastard), but seriously he oozes smarm like he was piping it through a pastry bag.
He’s a creepy ginger-headed man who has singlehandedly put me off Greek yogurt. When he folds fruit into Fage? (Shudder)
Did anyone like this guy? Except my cheating ex. (Yeah, there’s a sign. Takes a douche to know a douche.)
Cue beady-eyed sex possum Dean McDermott, who would like to give Flay some relationship advice.
McDermott told the New York Daily News:
“He needs to make some get out of jail meals for her. I would hope that they would be able to work things out because I was fortunate enough to be on that side of things working out.”
Yeah, what kind of meal says “I’m sorry I fucked my assistant for three years”? You think March is going to be appeased with grilled hot dogs?
My best guess is Flay is preparing appetizer courses for his next chump…