Delivering Toasts Few people in this too-cool age are aware of the usefulness of good old-fashioned toasting. You can use toast-making (which must always include a lift of a glass) to: Flirt shamelessly: "I'd like to make a toast to God, for seating me next to you." Recover from a faux pas: "A toast! To dry cleaners everywhere!" Disguise the fact you haven't been listening: "Hmmmmm .... Sorry to interrupt, but I must make this toast to Sue and Charles before I lose my nerve...." Ease tension over the check: "Here's to splitting the bill!"

You've been invited to a celebratory dinner for a friend, at one of your favorite restaurants. What could be more fun?

A lot of things, because when you get there the only seat left is between someone who drives you crazy (not in a good way, either) and someone who is as conversationally exciting as boiled flounder. To add to your sense of impending dinner doom, you happen to hear someone at the end of the table ordering bottles of Veuve Cliquot -- and you know you'll be splitting the bill.

Don't panic. There are several rarely-talked-about but super-effective tricks and techniques you can use to navigate even the most onerous restaurant party.

The Crisscross: If you do happen to find yourself sandwiched between the dinner companions from Hell, you may have to depend on your trans-table comrades for salvation. The first step is to attract the attention of one of these human life rafts across from you and solicit his or her opinion ("Hey Jimmy, do you get along with your landlord?") Whatever you do, keep talking as much as possible to the trans-table diner, until you can gradually faze the boring or bothersome diner(s) out. The ultimate goal of the Crisscross is to convince your left- and right- side neighbors that you are not available for an intimate tete-a-tete, and that they must find someone else to torture (or settle for communing with their Lobster Bisque.)

These Pigs Aren't In A Blanket! Prepare yourself for the approaching hors d'oeuvre platter! Avoid humiliation at a cocktail party with the newest addition to our digest.

Of course, the Crisscross is hard to maintain for an entire evening; eventually, one of these next door neighbors will succeed in claiming your attention. In that event, you can always try the more drastic Smoker's Smokescreen ("Excuse me, I should really sit/go outside with the other smokers). However, this is bound to fail if you're eating at City Wine & Cigar Co., so you may have to rely on the bold Restroom Rotation, in which you go to the bathroom before you order. When you come back, say, "Oh, just scoot down; it's so much easier!"

The Thin Wallet: If the other diners should spin unexpectedly out of control and begin to order outlandishly expensive things -- caviar, quail eggs, truffles, alligator aspic -- for which you have no desire (or no ability) to pay, Miss Mingle recommends that you politely take your leave well before the check comes. Make sure to put enough money on the table to cover what you did consume, plus the proverbial generous tip.

Inevitably, there will be occasions when you realize almost immediately upon arriving at a restaurant that you have made a catastrophic mistake in coming, and that the evening promises to be so tedious that it won't even qualify for a good post-event story ("Wait 'til I tell you what I went through last Tuesday!"). In these instances it is often better for everyone concerned if you employ the handy Call Escaping Technique, otherwise known as the Telephone Exit Line: Soon after your arrival, excuse yourself to make a phone call (this is especially effective at Telephones, where you're on display throughout the call and can emote regretfully for your co-diners), return to the table with a VERY sad face (practice this in a mirror), and explain that there is an unforeseen situation which requires your immediate attention.

Then get the heck out of there and go have dinner with your cats.