There's a special time every morning, after a night out, that I affectionately refer to as the thirty seconds of terror. You wake up--hopefully in bed--and run through the checklist. Mine usually goes something like this:

--Crap! Where's my phone?! "Megannn! Megan! Call my phone!" Phew--it's right there. In the fridge...hmm..

--Shit! My wallet! Where's my wallet?! (Then usually "KATE! Where's my wallet?!") Oh. Oh god. Thank god, it's right there. In the bathtub? Hmm..

--Uh oh! Uh oh...where's Aly?! On the couch. Okay, well that actually makes sense.

But then, after you think you're golden, when all your possessions--and friends--have been located, comes the real mortification, the oops (often oops-I-did-it-again) moments that everyone faces after tossing back a few too many...that frequently no amount of damage control can fix:

1. The Uh-Oh Text Messages

It's always a joy to check your outbox after a fun night out. Somehow the texts that seemed so funny, flirty and legible often turn out, in the light of day, to be inappropriate, creepy or straight up gibberish. It's safe to say that everyone has--or knows someone who has--thought it was a splendid idea to text their ex (casually, just as friends, of course... yeahhh... at 2 a.m... after 5 rounds of shots... on the bus ride home.. ya know, just to say what's up). Friends totally do that.

This is actually such a widespread phenomenon that there's a whole website dedicated to it. And perhaps more damaging than the ex-text is the message to your parents. Tip: No matter how funny or endearing you think you are in the middle of power hour, it's doubtful that the loving souls that reared you will agree. And if you do make this mistake, you better hope you have a sibling at home willing to delete that shit ASAP Mission Impossible-style before Mommy wakes up and disowns you.

2. The Mysterious Charges

Oh yes, the dreaded bank account statement. Thanks to technology and the glories of mobile banking, you don't even have to leave bed to see how much debt you're going to be in after a Thursday night out. (How it's possible to overdraft when wells cost ONE DOLLAR at some bars is beyond me...but I've done it).

Personally, I recommend carrying cash. Otherwise you might find yourself buying a middle-aged man named Hilton and all his friends shots to celebrate his recent divorce. (Hmm..just me?) And guess what? Apparently it's hard to dispute that $25 dollar charge from The Blind Pig on Saturday when you spent $30 there on Friday. I swear Wells Fargo, someone umm... stole my card.

Yeah, no.

3. The Facebook Notifications

I'll say it right now-- EFF YOU FACEBOOK. (I skipped the profanity because I'm classy.) But really. With texts, at least it's between you and one other person. I also have a delightful habit of deleting the entire history of any embarrassing conversation, meaning of course that it never even happened. (Denial is a wondrous thing.) As for charges to your card? No sweat! Just host a classic I-Bought-Too-Many-Beers-So-I'm-Broke Bake Sale or a Captain-Costs-A-Lotta-Cash Car Wash. Alcoholism is a disease, so just tell everyone that any donation is totes a tax write-off. But the dreaded Facebook notifications...

There is no moment that makes my blood run colder, that makes my heart race faster and my hands get freakishly sweatier, than when that little red bubble pops up when you sign on: ________ (fill in the name of girl-always-with-camera) tagged you in a photo!

Nervously you click on the bubble and up pops a photo. AHHHH!

Best case scenario? You're just a little shiny (blame the flash), there's a little double chin action (it's just a bad angle, of course) or that top has got you lookin' a little more like Cee Lo than J.Lo (I mean, he's a good lookin' guy). It's whatever. Sure your 286 mutual friends will still see it after you click frantically on "Remove Tag" (otherwise known as the most useful button on Facebook), but I mean...they're your Facebook "friends"... friends don't judge. Yeah...

But at least you can dispute a bad picture; just show up in person looking really good next time. No, the pictures you can't bounce back from are the cruel candids. You know, the ones that show you backin' that thang up with the guy who's got no hair on his head but plenty everywhere else (seemed charming and uhh cuddly at the time?), the guy with the eye patch (who doesn't love pirates?!) or the guy who qualifies for Medicare (that you suddenly in a flashback remember had to take his dentures out for the post-tequila shot lime--sorry, there's no excuse for that one). The camera may add ten pounds, yes, but it definitely didn't add that guy posing behind you flashing the shocker sign.

So there you have it kids. When writing about the joys of drinking, it's only right--and responsible--for me to share the (more lighthearted) consequences that come along with it. So I'll end this post like every alcohol commercial ends (in an annoyingly preachy note, I know--deal with it):

Please drink responsibly.