I'll admit it. I'm a big fan of cheap wine. Yummy. Give me some Boones Farm Strawberry Zinfandel on a hot summer night, and I'll get my buzz on - and get it on good. And I used to, back in the day, enjoy a nice cigarette (or ten) with my wine. Even now, every so often, I'll get a craving for a cigarette. Thankfully, the urge is usually cured by the smell of a heavy smoker passing by and occasionally cured by a simple, single drag on another person's gross-stick.

And not only are the two items listed in the title of this post things I have - or do - enjoy, they also compose the title of a tune by one of my favorite local punk rock bands. Darkbuster is a treat. So much fun to see live. And with songs like "The Amazing Royal Shaft," "Motown," and "Hometown Zero," they are my go-to "rock out in my car" band. They are also a great bunch of folks. As are so many of our friends who play in bands. Much of my social life involves loud music, crowded clubs, and the availability of plenty of booze. My boyfriend's band is called The McGunks - as in "Drunk McGunks." You get the picture, I think. Although my day life involves an office job, my night life involves managing my diabetes amid a bit of chaos and some temptation.

So how do I manage? And how does diabetes factor into it all?

For one thing, I've realized that I'm not in my early twenties any more. I am well aware that staying up until 4:30am drinking wine straight from the bottle and not eating much of anything results in terrible bloodsugars, terrible hangovers, and terrible work ethic. Although I probably realized this in my early twenties, I was nowhere near prepared to fix it. I'm pleased that I'm no longer tempted to try that kind of silliness on a regular basis. But there are those occasions when I want a night of reckless abandon. And when the urge strikes, I usually go on ahead with it - only less on the reckless and more on the abandon. I pack my meter and some juice or glucose tabs into my super-cool bag, and make sure my pump has a fresh supply of insulin and batteries. I check out my shoes and my fishnet tights in the mirror, I apply some eggplant eyeliner and sometimes I put on a wig. I get ready to get my silly on, I get ready to get my rock on. And the preparation doesn't make the practice any less fun.

Typically, I test every 1 to 2 hours if I'm drinking. This can get a little more difficult as the night wears on and my blood alcohol level increases, but I do my best. I go light on the carbs before I start drinking. I stick with sweet (read: cheap) wine or high sugar cocktails. And I usually try to have in my presence at least one sober buddy who knows about my diabetes and knows what to do if things go haywire. This person might also serve as my test alarm when I've gotten past the point of no return. This is always someone that I've known for years. It is always someone who can be insistent - as in "I know the bar is closed, but my friend needs orange juice NOW. Unless, of course you want her to have a convulsion right here." Mostly, it's always someone I know I can trust. I am thankful for these guardian angels that let me have my seldom-found nights of drunken glory.

There are always questions. Accusations. Stuff. The "is that a beeper?" and the "are you even supposed to be drinking?" and the "can you have that?" If I'm not over the edge, I might try to do a little diabetes 101 - but if I'm well on my way, the askers are more likely to get a sneer and "if I couldn't have it, I wouldn't have it."

Most of the time, I'm surrounded by a circle of friends that are covered in black leather and studs, some of them have green hair, most of them are covered in tattoos, they enjoy good loud punk rock and they like their beer and their wine and their cocktails. But they understand my diabetes and they understand that I take good care of myself and they understand that I'm entitled to a break from routine now and then. They are the friends that are sure there's diet soda around on nights I'm not having alcohol and that go out of their way to tell people to mind their own business if they see that I'm feeling defensive. They get it. We might look like a motley crew, but we take care of one another. And that, I guess, is all that really matters.

Now George, when are you coming up here to meet this ragtag bunch and make me some tuna casserole?