We'd like you now to take a moment and think back: way, way back, when a pre-reformed shock-starlet Lindsay Lohan was light years away from sharing the urban-pop-recording goings-on in her newly clean-and-sober life with a Las Vegas radio show (which we'd in turn set to charming, anthropomorphized vegetable imagery). 2005 was the Golden Age of Lohan-Generated Vehicular Manglings, but who of us could have anticipated that over two years later, we'd still be talking about the once-commonplace occurrence of her black Mercedes colliding with a delivery van following a lunch at The Ivy:
Lindsay Lohan says she was sober before a 2005 car crash near Beverly Hills.
Lohan is being sued for negligence over the accident in which her Mercedes hit a van and injured the driver, Raymundo Ortega.
Ortega, a busboy, alleges Lohan had been drinking at a restaurant called The Ivy before the crash even though she was underaged. Ortega is seeking at least $200,000 in damages from the 21-year-old actress and the restaurant.
But in a Dec. 15 declaration, Lohan stated: "I did not consume an alcoholic beverage or any type of medication or drug" either before or during her restaurant visit. [...]
The server, Adam Novicki, said Lohan did not order alcohol. Alonzo Howell, a Los Angeles police officer who was providing security for The Ivy that day, also said he did not see Lohan drinking.
Lohan has countersued Ortega, citing a California Highway Patrol report that said he was at fault for the crash because he made an illegal U-turn.
No matter that The Ivy might have a vested interest in repudiating the busboy's claims that they served alcohol to a minor; if Lohan went to the trouble of disclosing under oath the contents of her made-to-order iced teas ("With extra Long Island, just like Miss Linzy like it!"), then that's good enough for us. Of course, Ortega could easily fire back with further claims about how far the restaurant would go to cater to their celebrity patron, such as the regular routine where she'd flag down the maitre d' and remind them with a wink that she'd like the pie she ordered for dessert to be dusted in an "eight-ball's worth of confectioner's blow. I mean sugar."