You guyyyyyyssssssss.

I am EMBARRASSED.

See, my friend (HI JENNA) invited me to a cake decorating party. Nothing was required except to show up, stack cake, and slater on the frosting.

DELICIOUSLY FUN.

As we piped and sprinkled and pittled and piqued the frosting, the host invited everyone up for drinks.

To my surprise, everything was alcoholic. Even what I thought was a Martinelli’s sparkling apple cider was actually not apple cider.

Well, I may be a wayward ex-Mormon, but I wasn’t about to start drinking for the first time at a party with a bunch of strangers, even if they DID have chocolate cake.

But heaven smiled down on me for my sober choices, for I spied a bottle of orange juice.

MY FAVORITE.

Surely the rest of the party was planning to get sloshed, so I hoarded that juice to myself. Easily drank half the bottle. Then I graciously moved aside for the other 30 women waiting for their beverages.

Specifically, as it would turn out, waiting for their screwdrivers, mimosas, and other devil waters that require orange juice.

You. Guys.

I chugged the bottle of juice meant to share with 30 OTHER PEOPLE.

And because this was a lady’s night cake-decor party, no one said anything unpleasant. They all did a very good job pretending that they didn’t want orange juice in the first place. Like they didn’t mind losing their delicate brunch spritzers and enjoyed drinking raw tequila like undomesticated rats instead.

UN.DOMESTICATED.RATS.

They’re never going to let me come back.

FWIW, the cake turned out good, though!