Mr. Davis, Your Table(s) Are Ready...

Last night we celebrated ROB LUCHOW's 23rd birthday. And where better to celebrate the birth of Chow than at MR. CHOW'S, the famed Chinese eatery in Beverly Hills? Long considered a nexus of celeb-spotting and elbow-rubbing, last night it did not disappoint. (Even if the size of its delicious portions did.)

We sat right across from the veritably mummified crooner TONY BENNETT. Also sitting close by, BATMAN himself, MICHAEL KEATON, dining with a to-be-expected younger blonde with requisite slammin' bod. Now it's not uncommon for people to leave a Chinese restaurant smelling less than fresh, but Mr. Keaton was apparently more oderous than the restaurant's aptly named pungent chicken. HASDAY got a whiff as he walked past us at the bar and was smashed with an olfactory disaster of Hiroshima proportions. "Musky, old-man smell," according to Hasday. I did hear it got awful stuffy in that bat suit.

The real treat was something of a reunion actually. We were standing by the bar and all of a sudden, I felt the ground start to shake a little bit. My sternum was reverberating, ever so subtly, as though I were standing next to a sub woofer. I look over to the drinks on the bar and - sure enough - concentric circles were rippling through all the over-priced libations at three-second intervals. When I turned to look who was coming through the door, I realized I should have known: JASON DAVIS, ginormous oil heir and brother of much thinner Davises ALEX and BRANDON.

I said, "Hey, there's Jason Davis at the door," and Hasday very astutely replied "and at the bar...and the coat check...and the dining room." He was right. The guy's big enough to warrant his own personal area code. (I hear it's 328.)

Jason Davis and I first met many moons ago at STAGEDOOR MANOR, when he was just a little, husky-voiced, fat kid. (See picture, at left, circa 1998.) He was the biggest little terror the camp had ever seen -- and this is a camp that had to wrangle party girl BIJOU PHILLIPS, mind you -- and everyone rolled their eyes and sighed "Oh....Jason!" every time he'd walk into the room. Every other day he'd receive a massive care package stocked with the latest Batman action figures and British-import candies. Rumor has it, his parents had to pay an extra $3,000 tuition just to reserve another room in which to stuff all of Jason's goodies.

Flash forward ten years or so and I see that Jason is all grown up. No longer the little, husky-voiced, fat kid he's blossomed into a tall, husky-voiced fat man. On his arm, a hot blonde, the must-have accessory for all overweight billionaires, and a frosted-haired sidekick.

His party was seated immediately and ordering happened almost instantaneously. "Ricardo," Jason snapped, "We're ready." No shock there -- this kid was BORN ready...to eat, that is. The waiter presented the menu, Jason gave it a quick once over and then simply said "OK." Both Ricardo and I stared perplexed at first, until we both realized that when he said "OK," he meant, OK I'll take it all. As in the entire menu. Typically, the Mr. Chow waiters open up their schpiel with "You're going to be sharing everything you order tonight." To which Jason no doubt responded, "Bitch, please..." The only thing that boy was sharing was personal space -- since his massive circumference put him in everyone else's.

The highlight of the evening by far -- besides, of course, spending time with the Luch on his special day -- was watching J.Dave try to get up from the table after his meal. He was seated at a cushy, wrap-around booth and while his dining counterparts had no trouble slipping out -- in fact, they were out the door before his belly even crossed the threshold of the table top -- he had to wiggle, contort, suck-in and reposition in a folly-filled effort to make it out without knocking over the table. It was a 90-second affair that involved so many body contortions and uncomfortable facial expressions that it more closely resembled a competitive game of TWISTER than a graceful restaurant exit.


"Mmmmmm....me hungry." Jason Davis inspects his date for any remnant crumbs he could lick off to hold him over until they get to the concession stand at the MTV Movie Awards.