Mixology

I was always told never to mix my drinks.
Probably why I lost my job at the cocktail bar.

Yapucha Dance

A man was sitting at a bar in London, and ordered a drink. "So, who are you?", asked the bartender. "I'm a danceologist. I've studied every dance in the entirety of Europe". "Even the Wingo Wango?" "Mhm", he replied. "Even the Yapucha dance?", he asked.
"Wait, I've never heard of that one! Can you tell me about it?" The bartender shook his head. "I can't, but my cousin lives in Switzerland. Here's his address. The bartender handed him a business card. The danceologist thanked him, and booked a flight there. When he arrived at the airport, the cousin greeted the danceologist, and took him home.
"Every year on the 12th of May they do the dance. You see that mountain up there? They live on top. They'll be doing it in 2 weeks. The danceologist looked at the mountain in awe. Two weeks later, there was a heavy storm. Jagged rocks and the icy winds battered him. He didn't bring any oxygen, and so he felt too out of breath, and took a rest. Later, he carried on for one last push, and reached the top, where he met the tribe.
"Aha! Is this where the Yapucha dance is?", exclaimed the danceologist."Yes, you're just in time," laughed the chief. "Are we all ready?"
The other tribesmen got into a circle and nodded. The danceologist watched intently.
"Yapucha left foot in..."

Beautiful Music, Basic Names

A guy sees a sign outside a bar that says "Piano Player Wanted," so he goes in to apply. The bartender, who is desperate for a player, asks the man to play him something. The man sits down and plays some of the most beautiful music the bartender's ever heard. "That was amazing" exclaims the bartender. "What was that called?" "That was something I like to call 'A Weasel Ate My Genitals.'" "Oh. You know anything else?" The guy plays another amazingly gorgeous piece. Impressed, the bartender applauds and asks what that one was called. "It's called 'Crap In My Mouth, I Love It.'" "Okay," says the bartender. "You can have the job. Just as long as you don't tell anyone the names of the songs." So the guy begins working nights at the bar, playing to full houses every night, and, true to his word, never revealing the titles of the songs. One night, though, he takes a break to go to the bathroom and forgets to zip up his pants afterwards and his schlong is hanging out. A patron notices and approaches him. "Do you know your pants are unzipped and your thing is hanging out?" "Know it, pal?" says the piano player. "I wrote it!"