By On the occasion of our 20th anniversary
By Gustavo Arellano
By R. Scott Moxley
By Alfonso Delgado
By Courtney Hamilton
By Joel Beers
By Peter Maguire
By Charles Lam
I've been eating at your sushi bar for years, have recommended it to many people. You guys know me and my friend—we're the guys who come in once a week, order drinks, and rail about the world. You never had a problem with our conversations until last week, when one of your chefs got a furrowed look on his face.
"Can you stop saying the F-word?" he said in very thickly accented English.
Who the fuck are you? James Dobson? People cuss at the restaurant all the time—it's a fucking sushi bar, where cretins and pretty things get drunk on Sapporos and sake. Why get annoyed now? We're the ones who tip you prodigiously, who order food again and again and again—and now you tell us to shut up?
Goodbye, dear sushi bar—and fuck off.
Send anonymous thanks, confessions or accusations—changing or deleting the names of the guilty and innocent—to "Hey, You!" c/o OC Weekly, 1666 N. Main St., Ste. 500, Santa Ana, CA 92701-7417, or e-mail us at firstname.lastname@example.org.