Hey, officer … want a cupcake?
“You’ll never guess what happened to me last night,” my girlfriend Becky called to say early the other morning.”Ummm, you went to a party and a poker game broke out?” I guessed.”Well, kind of,” she said.”I know, I was there,” I pointed out. “It was at my house, remember?”The evening had marked the ten-year anniversary that our women’s poker group had been playing together, although it had been some time since our last game.”Ten YEARS?” husband-head laughed, when I told him the gang was coming over and we were celebrating our anniversary. “Then how come none of you STILL knows how to play poker?”Because it’s not really all about poker. The majority of the time is spent eating, drinking and catching up with each other.And this particular evening was no different. We spent more than two hours stuffing our faces, making cocktails and gossiping before we even considered actually playing poker.One woman, in particular, was pretty proud of the large tray of homemade cupcakes she had brought to the party.”Have a cupcake!” she kept urging everyone.
“Have a cocktail!” I urged everyone.Needless to say, the cocktails ended up being more popular than the cupcakes.But finally, we decided to move to the dining room to play a game.Most of us didn’t even remember how to play poker, but luckily we had a giant “cheat sheet” poster hanging on the wall to help us.There was the usual debate about which poker hand was higher than the other since we tend to make up our own rules as we play.”Are you getting in touch with your inner poker bitch?” one gal said to the other, who was objecting to her collecting the pot of coins.In the end, we decided that was enough poker. A good time was had by all and everybody said good-night and left.”Is it safe?” husband-head peered around the doorway, having been holed up in the bedroom with the dogs the entire night. “The dogs really need to pee.””Yeah, it’s safe,” I assured him. “There’s some food leftover – want a cupcake?”So, when I received Becky’s phone call the next morning asking if I knew what happened the night before, I was a little confused.
“We got pulled over by the cops on the way home,” she informed me.Uh-oh.But since I knew Becky didn’t drink, I wasn’t worried that she’d gotten a DUI ticket.”Oh, I was fine,” she said. “But it was the three drunk monkeys in the back seat that were a problem.”Apparently, Becky was pulled over for not using her blinker correctly.”He was nice and young and very cute,” she described the trooper. “Except that I have a hard time saying ‘sir’ to a guy who is my son’s age.””Have you ladies been to a bake-off?” the trooper asked, noticing the lady in the back with a whole tray of leftover cupcakes on her lap.”No! We’ve been to a POKER party!” another woman chirped, spilling the beans.Becky had planned on going with the bake-off story since the mention of poker immediately conjures up images of cocktails.”Have you ladies been drinking?” the trooper continued.
“I’ve had some margaritas!” another woman volunteered.Becky held her head in her hands.”If I was going to have to get out and do roadside sobriety tests, I was going to be very angry,” she admitted to me. “I just wanted them all to shut UP!”Then came the clincher.”Officer!” the cupcake lady slurred. “Want a CUPCAKE?”Surprisingly, the officer took a cupcake. Apparently, he did not feel it was like those specially laced brownies, because what he had was a car full of middle-aged women that looked like his mother.Becky didn’t end up getting a ticket, but merely a warning.”I used to get out of tickets because I was a cute cupcake,” she lamented. “Now that we’re middle-aged, we have to actually GIVE them cupcakes.”Next time, we should play for cupcakes instead of coins.Heidi Rice is a staff reporter for the Post Independent. Her column appears every Friday in the Post. Visit her Web site at http://www.heidirice.com.
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