Serving up some bar etiquette

So you're going to the bars tonight. You've decided to trade your home's plush couches, cheap beer and clean bathrooms (with no lines) in for arguments over bar stools, not being able to hear the person you're talking to and three packs of secondhand smoke. \nAll right, but first we need to establish some rules, because as Cosmo Kramer once said, "Without rules, there's chaos." And critics are deeming this column some of the finest advice to hit the scene since Biggie handed down his "Ten Crack Commandments." \n• Beware of the meathead. You know him, he thinks he's as hard as yesterday's Italian bread, and at any given time he's either: glued to Golden Tee, yelling at the bartender from 20 feet away or trying to fight you because he just spilled his A.M.F. all over himself. All you can do is make sure he knows where the popcorn machine is and just try to keep your distance. \n• Hey, check out the couple making out at the bar. Aw, isn't that so cute? Wait, hold on a second … Bleehh! Now look what you've done -- the silver dollar pancakes I ate this morning are all over the floor. I'm sure the two of you keep hearing the overused expression "get a room!" But in actuality, you can go make out in traffic for all we care. Yes, I know shorty, that third Long Island has made you finally realize he's your soul mate. And yeah buddy, I know all that practice with your sister is about to pay off, but please just go. Please. \n• If a person in your group is on a cell phone, then nobody else in your party within a seven foot radius can be on one. This is not debatable. \n• When the bar is packed, stop playing pool. If you have to say, "excuse me" for more than 70 percent of your shots, do society a favor -- toss aside the pool stick and start binge drinking! \n• Why do some people get dressed up only to get sloppy and play "Sink the Biz"? Go ahead and slip into something more comfortable; no one will remember what you looked like after a night of excessive boozing. I'm sure of it (just as sure as I am that my little niece could beat up John Mayer). \n• Even though I've been extremely critical of Kilroy's (Bloomington's most crowded day care center) over the years, I must admit, their stuffed breadsticks are off the hook! I mean these tasty morsels are "last meal" material. Although I think they might be deep fried in M.S.G. \n• When the jukebox starts playing "Like a Prayer," cease all conversation with me and any female on the premises. We are no longer listening to you. \n• Stop obsessing over "face time." Sure, you want one final saunter around the bar in a desperate attempt to bring home something other than Bambas, but everyone's checked out the goods and no one's buying. \n• Whoever created the vicious rumor that if you pre-drink before the bars you'll spend less money must be hunted down and tortured with a hot curling iron. When you arrive at the bar already intoxicated, you start saying things like, "What shot haven't I done yet?" and "Just get me a drink that ends in the word 'bomb.'" And the next morning your wallet is so stuffed with credit card receipts that it's actually thicker than Zack Morris' cell phone. \nOh and hey Kilroy's … knock down the birth canal and everyone will stop pissing on your bar. It's really that simple.