There is no shame in club soda and cranberry juice.

There is a reason for the scarcity of piano bars.

Visiting the pub will be cheaper in the long run if you tip the bartender regularly and more generously than is necessary.

Never order a frozen drink in a place that serves pickled eggs.

Actually, never order a frozen drink.

It's also not a bad idea to eschew the pickled pigs' feet, although their presence is fairly strong evidence that you've accidentally stumbled upon a real tavern.

For the sake of the children, leave the pistol at home.

Champagne is a place. Bordeaux is a place. Champale is not a place.

Grappa is to lighter fluid as ouzo is to lighter fluid.

Garnish matters.

Despite a high ratio of female clientele, an insouciant way with fried mozzarella, and their prevalence in resort towns, establishments where a waitress pours shots into your mouth from a bottle she holsters in a bandolier are fraught with peril.

When throwing a party, break the seals on all liquor bottles, lest guests should hesitate to open them and come to doubt your hospitality.

Better yet: Hire a bartender.

The perfect manhattan: two parts bourbon, one part sweet vermouth, bitters, and a splash of cherry juice. Over rocks or not.

At the holiday office party, consume one drink less than your boss.

Adopt a new favorite cocktail on a seasonal basis.

That sangria means "bloodletting" is more a cautionary note than a simple fact.

Dry martinis, being nothing but gin, aren't all they're cracked up to be.

If you still want a martini, know that you cannot actually bruise gin, so go ahead and shake.

On the other hand, shaking introduces air bubbles that make the martini look cloudy for a time, so stir, already, if you're so particular.

Drinks that give you bad breath: beer, anything sweet, anything with milk.

Drinks that give you good breath: gin and tonic, gimlet, vodka and cranberry, anything with citrus.

Instead of ordering that shot of After Shock to cap off the evening, one could just walk calmly into the street, lie down, and wait.

Alternatively, you could pinch the bouncer's ass.

Every man should know how to make at least one drink from a foreign country, preferably one taught to him by a local female with whom he has had a complicated, unresolved, and quite possibly dangerous alliance.

The perfect negroni: four parts gin, one part sweet vermouth, and one part Campari shaken with ice and strained. Orange peel.

Citrus cocktails benefit greatly from rubbing lemon peel around the rim of the glass.

Jack Daniel's. Rocks.

Fresh orange juice. Fresh lemon juice. Fresh lime juice.

The perfect margarita: one part fresh lime juice, one part Cointreau, and one and a half parts tequila over ice.

On those chrome, hourglass-shaped bar measuring cups, the big side is the jigger. The little side is the pony. Never use the pony.

If you must: single-malt Scotch in a brandy snifter with a splash of water.

Avoid bars that use plastic cups, bars whose bathrooms consist solely of a trough-style urinal, bars with chicken wire protecting the band, bars where Patrick Swayze is the bouncer.

There is rarely any genuine need to shout "Skal!" "Na zdorovye!" "Slainte!" "Bottoms up!" or "Down the hatch!"

No one but the bouncer cares how tough you are, and he already knows you're not that tough.

A thought for the holidays: Gift wine should not be recognizable as having come from a grocery store.

Gift wine, being a gift, is not for tonight's party. Unless the host opens it.

Decent wine costs 15 dollars. Good wine costs 35 dollars. Nobody can tell the difference.

Never drink in a place that calls itself an eatery.

The cosmopolitan is over.

Rye isn't as popular as it used to be.

The perfect highball: one part rye to three parts ginger ale over Ice.

There is no upside to karaoke.

There is an ever-so-slight upside to a wet-T-Shirt contest, as long as you're not in it.

It is not necessary to request premium liquor for a mixed drink in which you cannot taste it, such as a gimlet or sour.

On the other hand, ascertain exactly how nonpremium the "well" liquor is before you opt against the good stuff.

Sitting at the bar works only for two people. Three or more requires a table.

Always check your fly before leaving the john.

If you were sitting in the john, make sure your wallet did not fall onto the floor.

Try to take care of the sitting thing at home.

Never utter the words I and love and you if you've had more than three drinks.

If you're a lightweight, make that one drink.

The perfect Shirley Temple: ginger ale over ice to fill a wineglass, splash grenadine, orange slice, lemon twist, cherry.

If a bartender makes you flail your arms or beg for service, well, obviously, leave.

Don't call the bartender Barkeep, Chief, Buddy, or Ace, unless his actual name, in fact, is Barkeep, Chief, Buddy, or Ace.

Even if you have ascertained your bartender's name, behaving overly familiar with him will be seen as a pathetic gambit for free drinks or, worse, proof that you have nobody to go to for affection other than a random service-industry professional who does not, in fact, know you and just wants your money.

Once you've fallen off a stool, there is little you can say to the bartender that will change his mind about asking you to leave.

Don't eat the worm.

If you don't smoke and you're in a bar, don't complain about other people who happen to be smoking, because, virtuous friend, you are in a bar.

Instead of trying to remember whether it's "beer before liquor" or the other way around, just be an adult and stick to one or the other.

Acceptable drinks for men: beer, wine, whiskey, cocktails that are neither sweet nor made with dairy or fruit other than lime or lemon or orange.

Acceptable drinks for women: whatever they want, except a certain few.

A certain few: the grasshopper, the Long Island iced tea, the pink lady, and any variety of spritzer.

Also unacceptable: drinks whose names mimic critical medical conditions or copulative acts and their secretions.

And while we're on the subject, drinks that are named after supposedly cute body parts, like navels, which are actually disgusting repositories for sebaceous grime: No.

All of that said, never question a woman's drink choice.

If you're the first in the group to arrive and you start a tab on your card, you deserve exactly what's coming to you.

Campari shaken with ice and strained into a martini glass.

Unless you are lounging on the Promenade Deck, do not drink from a fruit.

The perfect martini: There is no such thing as the perfect martini. Make it the way it tastes best to you.

Provided that you remember that there is no such thing as a chocolate martini.