Uncomfortable

Dear Bartender: My girlfriend likes to drink whiskey. I don’t. I had some Southern Comfort once back in the ’90s and that was the end of my drinking dark liquor.

My problem: When we go to bars, she always says her drink is too weak. She then asks me to taste it to confirm.

OK, so I taste it. But I hate whiskey so much that any amount is too much, and, invariably, I tell her that it’s too strong.

She then acts like she hates me. What’s a guy to do?

Dear Hated: First things first: it breaks my heart that you’re judging all dark liquor harshly because of a bad date with SoCo in the ’90s. SoCo is whiskey-based, yes, but it’s also flavored with peach brandy, orange, cinnamon, sugar and vanilla. That’s not exactly what I’d call whiskey.

OK, so now that I’ve gotten that off my chest… What’s stopping you from making a face and saying, “Sure doesn’t taste right to me”?

Sleeping with the enemy

Dear Bartender: I met a guy who was pretty cute and seemed nice. He gave me his e-mail. The problem is, he voted for George W. Bush TWICE. Once I might forgive, but twice? Should I contact him? I’m a socialist.

–Revolutionary

Dear Revolutionary: How cute is he? Never mind. Any successful LTR requires a certain amount of incompatibility. And even it doesn’t work out beyond the current administration, politics should never stand in the way of a good romp. As Woody Allen says in “Annie Hall,” about dating Eisenhower’s niece: “I was trying to do to her what he was doing to the country.”

What comes around goes around.

Man in the Middle

Dear Bartender: I have two excellent friends who have been together for over a decade. Each gives me intimate details about the other. At what point do I share information — or should I just shut the fuck up?

Dear Friend: Why would you repeat what you’ve been told in confidence? It’s so much more fun to pour it all into your next best-selling “fiction” novel.

East Meets West

Dear Bartender: I was at the neighborhood bar, and I heard the following exchange:

Patron: Heineken
Bartender: What? Heineken?
Patron: <nod>
Bartender gets the beer
Bartender: Six dollars.
Patron pays with a 10 and pockets the change.
Bartender: Actually, you should leave me a dollar. You should always leave a dollar a drink. If it’s a drink, you leave a dollar. If it’s two drinks, you leave two dollars. If you buy ten drinks, it’s ten dollars. It’s math, you leave a dollar a drink. You’re Asian, I know you understand math.

The remark was uncalled for in my opinion. What do you think?

–Understanding, but still….

Dear Still: Eurasian? I’m not Eurasian!

Your question has a complicated history. When this country was young, tipping was considered un-American — condescending and inconsistent with a free country’s ideal of an honest wage for an honest day’s work. That’s not changed. Nevertheless, nowadays, like it or not, tipping in American bars is expected, common, and often the only way a hard-working bartender makes any money. And it’s not wholly imperfect: Think of the poor souls, in a busy hotspot, waving around a $10 and shouting that they want bloody marys, dirty, with olives and salt on the rim. Sometimes a tip makes the world spin a little faster.

But it’s not wholly perfect, either — and nothing demonstrates that better than when some asshole bartender demands a tip.

Once upon a time it was possible to offend someone with money. I wouldn’t advise trying that on a prick like this.

My Girlfriend’s Flat

Dear most esteemed Bartender: Whenever I feel very happy or very sad, my girlfriend’s moods start to flatten out. This makes me feel as though I am frustrating her. What do you think?

–possibly crazy

Dear Possibly Crazy: She’s jealous that any of your emotions could be spent on something besides her. Danger, Will Robinson!

The List

Dear Bartender: Hey there. I was wondering if you can post all the drinks a bartender is required to know. Thanks!

With Joy,

Nonna Milyavskaya

Dear Nonna: In an ideal world, you’d know every drink your customers order. It ceased to be an ideal world when God invented tourists. So let’s start with the basics.

I won’t include drinks that are self descriptive, such as, say, an amaretto sour or a Jack Daniel’s neat. The basic non-self-descriptive cocktails that I might make in a regular week include: Screwdriver, Cape Cod, Greyhound, Cuba Libre, Cosmopolitan, Martini (all variations including dirty, dry, wet, vodka, gin, apple, gibson, watermelon, chocolate, French & black), Manhattan (both sweet and perfect), Bloody Mary (including all variations), Red Wine Cooler, White Wine Spritzer, Kir, Sex on the Beach, WuWu, Sidecar (both brandy and bourbon), Piña Colada, Rum Punch, Daiquirí, Mojito, Red Devil, Alabama Slammer, Tom Collins, Vodka Collins, Gin Fizz, Sloe Gin Fizz, Long Island Iced Tea, Long Beach, Margarita, Tequila Sunrise, Madras, Sea Breeze, Bay Breeze (including the Malibu Rum version), Salty Dog, Kamikaze, 007, Screaming Nazi, Mind Eraser, Lemon Drop, Godfather, Godmother, Blue Hawaiian, Brandy Alexander, Negroni, Gin Ricky, Gimlet (including vodka, gin & tequila versions), Rusty Nail, White Russian, Black Russian, B52, Jägerbomb, Mudslide, Melon Ball, Fuzzy Navel, Hairy Navel, Shirley Temple, Mimosa and a shitload of other champagne cocktails that I don’t care to get into, mostly ‘cuz we don’t serve champagne at my bar so why should I give a fuck.

Optional but fun: Surfer on Acid, Rubber Duckie, Rose Kennedy, Liquid Cocaine & Sex with an Alligator.

If you work at a hotel or an airport, this list is not complete. At a neighborhood bar you can get away with telling people that a Slippery Nipple is not a real drink.

If they complain, just give ’em a beer and tell ’em to shut up.

Transitive Properties

Dear Bartender: I teach Algebra on Long Island. I have a student who keeps trying to fix me up with her mother. The details are confusing but to the best of my knowledge the kid’s father is either dead or in jail. In truth, I’m more interested in the kid than the mother — though actually I’ve never seen the mother so maybe I shouldn’t be so quick to decide. My question to you: Should I accept the kid’s invitation to dinner with the family?

Dear Math Teacher: Yes. But only if it’s a big extended family. I hope you haven’t ruled out a potential, insane, irresistible attraction to the kid’s grandma.

Absent

Dear Bartender: Did I read correctly that the ban on absinthe has been lifted in the U.S.?

Dear Drinker: No. Absinthe has come a long way from its decades-old vilification, but the ban in the U.S. has not been lifted. The U.S. is crazy behind the rest of the developed world; go figure.

The word “absinthe” is derived from the Latin “absinthium,” which some say is a stylization of a Greek word that means “undrinkable.” Never mind that. What’s important is that at some point in the early 20th Century everyone became convinced that absinthe was addictive and psychoactive. It’s been a long road back. Shit, it was even illegal in Amsterdam until 2004. You gotta be some crazy shit to be illegal in Amsterdam.

Nevertheless, you gotta ask yourself: When was the last time we saw the likes of van Gogh, Toulouse-Lautrec, Picasso, Hemingway, Wilde or Strindberg – absinthe drinkers all? Shit, maybe it’s about more than just being high. If only we could say the same for a vodka cranberry. We’d all be fucking geniuses.

Shave & A Haircut

Dear Bartender: My wife used to have long hair. She just got it cut short. I’m not sure if she likes it. I asked her and she shrugged. I hate it. What do I do?

Dear Hubby: Shave your head. Or better yet, shave your crotch hair off. That’ll learn the bitch.