"Wait, so you tellin' me I'm a PWAHINCESS?!" I exclaimed, bits and pieces of cake flying out of my mouth in all directions. I cringed, just enough to make the blob of icing on my chin spread. Y'know, I'd always thought that if this were to happen, I'd be sitting in a poised, sophisticated manner, with my hundreds of adoring fans waiting below me. The royal messenger would carry a scroll up the marble staircase, random flower petals and whatnot fluttering down upon me as I was granted a full-on ball gown and crown. Yet here I am, at my cousin's bachelorette party, cake covering my face and dotted with acne with a dress with a wine splash all over the front. Oh, and the so-called royal messenger is my long-time crush from grade three carrying a sticky note. Just my luck, huh.?