... "Hashan, 37, sprinted after Lohan, and banged on the window of her cab.
"I said, 'Is this your phone?'" he recalled.
"She said, 'Yes.'
"I said, 'Give me proof because there were more customers. If this is your phone, you know the number. If it rings, I'll give it to you.'" ....
******
Wait, why would he run after one particular customer and then ask to prove the phone was hers?
I crossed paths with Lohan at Red Cat in Chelsea and she looked like a strung out drug addict. But what really struck me is her hair is mostly gone. She is just a few strands away from losing all of it. Which is a shame. But not surprising.
Classic "WTFight" scenario: bratty lady and cranky bodega owner get their douche on and brawl over absolutely nothing; NYPD needs to intervene and send them each to their respective corners, like in kindergarten. The only twinkle of light in this sordid li'l story: the name of that "Lohan pal" who called 911: Patrick Aufdenkamp. Ha-haaaaa.. excellent! I'd Google him right now, except he can't possibly be better in real life than what I'm imagining him to be right now.
Because I'm a congenital idiot who only believes what she reads in the New York Post (Maniac Stalks Olivia Newton-John), apparently the owner asked her to prove it was hers by having the degenerate friends she was with call her phone. They both tried on separate phones, and the calls mysteriously failed. The lesson: appearing on Lifetime will curse and fuck you up far beyond what you've done yourself.
Back in my "salad days", I spent many nights in East Village bodegas searching for soft drinks in a vain attempt to re-hydrate after an all-night cocaine binge. More often than not, there was no small amount of drama being served up by me & my posse. Because of my altered state, miscommunication was the order of the day. However, deli workers are not known for their impeccable social skills, and frequently these incidents would escalate unnecessarily. Perhaps, LiLo was feeling slightly distracted and unappreciated. But the guy behind the counter was either genuinely clueless, or getting off on the sensation of denying privilege to somebody accustomed to having strangers kiss her ass. Although with that lip job, she most likely won't be kissing anyone in the near future.
@Our Lady of the Massacre: As I was typing it, I started to think to myself that this sort of flashback might be more appropriate for Tumblr rather than Gawker. And spending the night walking up 2nd Avenue confirmed my sense that I may have indulged in a bout of inappropriate over-sharing. But thank you!
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The tech connection is so tenuous as to be laughable.
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"I said, 'Is this your phone?'" he recalled.
"She said, 'Yes.'
"I said, 'Give me proof because there were more customers. If this is your phone, you know the number. If it rings, I'll give it to you.'" ....
******
Wait, why would he run after one particular customer and then ask to prove the phone was hers?
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[www.eonline.com]
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