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How not to be an asshole diner by Tony Chen

We've long been fans of, and are happy to bring you a new irregular "how to" column from its author, Tony Chen. First up is a how not to: 9 helpful hints on how not to be an asshole diner...

1. Do not crowd the salsa bar.
Let's say you're at La Isla Bonita, or Tamix. You're rockin' your skinniest J Brand, and you just got some new titanium skewers on your fixie. The night is already lovely because the trompo man is looking rather generous with the pina shavings. It's time to stock up on the salsa verde (because salsa roja just reminds you too much of the Democratic machine in Los Angeles). You head to the salsa bar, elbows out, just like the peewee league b-ball coach taught you. You're an asshole. The taco truck commissary owns the salsa bar, no matter how snug your balls are feeling this evening.

2. Put the camera away, girl.
Any photographic equipment, larger than a mobile phone, is Kardashian's Ass. Anyone who brings an 1DS MkIII with mounted 85mm f1.2 to Picca is an automatic a*hole-- it matters not that you're actually the new Andrew Scrivani. Three fashion/life style bloggers shadowing that one plate of charchuterie at Wood+Vine? Just stop, we beg of you. It's a train wreck hence everyone must rubberneck, but immediately we all want to bleach our cornea.

3. While you put the camera away, might as well put your smartphone away.
Hey you two at Bastide? From Hong Kong? It's lovely you heart your new iphone4s. I understand the white one wasn't available in China even as you waited for that kickass 7-hour braised onion soup. A little bit of advice for you: try talking to each other. Keep this up and you're going to raise a loveless, emotionless kid who looks forward to suicide.

4. The CAA bigwig.
Dear Mr. Veep, we understand you're in the middle of increasing Ashley Tisdale's skank-o-meter but seriously, can you please not shout on your cell while awaiting your check at Craft Bar? In fact, how about not running in and out of the restaurant while doing said shouting? Finally, please don't toss your AMEX Black onto the bar/at the barkeep. It makes a nice *clink* against the bar, but no one appreciates it.

5. The double wide...
Stroller mommy. I hate you. The server hates you. This is not about children at bars, or children at restaurants. This is about a lousy human being who is idiotic enough to bring a 5' wide toddler tank into a public space. Just die.

6. The inconvenient vegan.
Sir hipdouche, the restaurant is called Animal. Animal.  So no, they won't toss your kale in an untainted bowl. And if you're going to the Crispy Pork Gang... Well, you shouldn't. We're genuinely happy for your veganism, even though your farts are extra special. Just cook your quinoa at home and blog all about it. Perhaps you'll be able to monetize enough to buy Animal and promptly rename it Plant.

7. "Do you know who I am?"
Know anyone who write 400 words twice a week on Wordpress and held a wedding with 3 table full of Yelpers? A restaurant hasn't opened for dinner service but this dude(ette) marches in expecting a 4 top for his/her SLR toting friends. Upon a service denial, s/he, not quite the asshole just yet, saunters over to the bar, clamoring for a round of comped bubbly... Hey pal, if Sotto can kick SIV to the curb, you're really nobody.

8. The proclamative eater**.
No, El Taurino isn't the "b"est taco, just like Baby Blue's isn't the "b"est BBQ, and your mom doesn't make the "b"est carnitas. Providence doesn't have the "b"est seafood, The Hat doesn't have the "b"est pastrami, and Ludobites isn't the "b"est thing ever. Qualify yourself or shut up. There's always something better. Always.

** read: "The Best Thing I ever Ate" is insufferable.

9. The chef's sluts.
Bangers Sisters 2 is being written as we speak. It features 2 women: 1 young, 1 menopausal, who met on twitter (natch) over their obsession with a certain Top Chef with much ink and a flavor savor. It is their dream to have a foursome with the chef and his philandering sous while snorting nitro'd foie powder of his sculpted abs. They visit the restaurant weekly and sit at the bar just to eye tap the company men. On the internet, you'll find pictures of them boob sandwiching said chef while striking Holly Madison poses in front of the hostess stand... it's not just pathetic

* The author may have been guilty of all charges, save #9.

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