One of the downsides of drunken antics such as last night's is piecing together the memories the next morning. And in the process being reminded of the many ways that communication devices can screw me up.
About 20 minutes ago, I received a text message from someone I dated earlier this year (Hamas Girl, if you remember those posts) -- sort of a polite brush-off type of message. I was a tad confused at first, then horrified, as I realized I text messaged her last night. I vaguely remember reminiscing about some of her charms last night, and while I don't remember the actual message, it's not hard to trace the path of this particular car wreck.
I'm now setting out to purge my phone of various girls who've accumulated in its register. I do this about twice a year -- usually after something like this. Once, when I was in a tragically romantic fever, my friend Susanne confiscated my cell phone at a party. It was a good move, and it's obvious I need a full-time guardian angel handling tasks like that.