I believe there are two kinds of people in this world: those who are crazy when they are sober and those who are crazy when they are drunk. I belong to the latter category. Or both.

As I have (frequently) mentioned before, bad things happen when I drink on an empty stomach. I pass out at bars. I get escorted out of bars. I pick fights with strangers. I make out with people I probably shouldn’t. You know, things I like to do for fun. But sometimes my idea of fun (craziness) is not everyone’s idea of fun (sitting around and having meaningful conversation).

Friday was no exception. If they had an Olympics for belligerent behavior then I would be your Flo-Jo.

I started the evening at Yuca with Sabbie and her French friends (who I love! You know who you are!) Yuca has this amazing happy hour deal where you can get margaritas and mojitos for $5 until 8 p.m. So I had two margaritas and two mojitos all before 8 p.m. By the way, tequila and rum with sugar is a murderous combination. All the sugar in the mojito just augments your intoxicated state. I can’t wait to have more.

We then jaunted off to Mercury Lounge to see our friend’s band Blip Blip Bleep (or as the Asians say Brip Brip Breep). At this point I was exiting Soberville and entering the neighborhood of Obnoxious which is on the corner of Plastered and Obliterated. I joked to the lead singer that I was going to start booing him off the stage. I really know how to give people a vote of confidence before they perform.

But they were awesome. Sabbie said, “They are awesome!” Of course, the marathon of mojito drinking may have also contributed to this state of euphoria.

After the show ended we went to a Japanese restaurant where I have no recollection of its location or its food. I think I spent the entire time smoking cigarrettes outside and yelling at my friend Prom Date about last week’s wedding. I’m not really sure what I was yelling about. I usually can’t control the volume of my voice after, you know, ten drinks.

Evidently I was being overly obnoxious to Prom Date. I’m not sure why but sometimes my humor gets me into trouble. Like that time I gave a play by play of my bowel movements to Prom Date’s then girlfriend and she pilloried me for talking about bathroom behavior. But this time I was being overly harsh. Love ya like a sista!

The rest of the evening is like a scene out of 28 Days Later and I am the blood thirsty zombie ready to bite your head off and drink more booze. At one point I am convinced that someone has stolen my credit card only to find it in the bottom of my purse.

On Saturday I wake up in the same clothes I wore the night before. I try to recall if I did or said anything embarrassing on Friday. After a couple of seconds I slap my forehead and groan in embarrassment. It is really a wonder that I have friends.

I talk to Sabbie on the phone that day and lament the fact that I can’t control my obnoxious behavior. She says, “I thought you were hilarious!” Um, yeah, that’s because you had just as many mojitos as me.

I spend the whole day on the couch, watching Paula Deen’s Family Vacation special on the Food Network and wishing I were a member of her jovial, sober tribe. Then I watch The Holiday and Amelie and spend my Saturday night crying and convincing myself that I will, in fact, die alone. Then I pass out.

On Sunday I wake up bright and early and go to the gym. Then I meet Prom Date for brunch at Balthazar. I swore that I would never meet him for a meal again because when we eat we are like pigs to a trough. His argument is that it’s not that we eat bad stuff, “we just eat too much of everything.”

For brunch we share a dozen oysters, sour cream and hazelnut waffles, nicoise salad and fries. That’s not soooo bad….riiiiight?

Then we decide to do some shopping but before we set off on our expedition we stop in Broome Street bar for a shot of tequila (me) and whiskey (him). Prom Date alleges that shopping is more fun when you are slightly drunk. I fully endorse this conjecture.

So, all in all, I suppose the weekend wasn’t a total disaster. I still have (most of) my friends and (some of) my health. Maybe I won’t die alone. Afterall, you know what they say: Those who care don’t matter and those who matter don’t care…to a certain extent.

And if you do offend them, you can always assuage them with oysters.