The old devil leaves and I get back to trying to get the wine and bloodstain off my dress, but all to no avail, this is exactly why I don't ever wear cashmere.

On the brink of panicking, could this night get any worse I ask myself, then I realize I came up with my little clutch bag, and inside it is my cellphone.

I reach for the little clutch bag like a horny overseas marine officer reaches for his wife's bra after three years of overseas service in Alaska or some other distant land.

Before then it took me about thirty seconds or more to figure out where I...