Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Get Me to the Church on Time



Like every other little girl in the western world, I grew up on the Cinderella story. Back then, Walt Disney was king. After seeing the movie of course I had to have all the paraphernalia that went with it. My favorite was the record and the accompanying book with all the beautiful images from the film and a helpful mouse named Gus to tell you when to turn the pages. So you know when this generation’s royal wedding made it to the screen, I was there, glued to my TV.

Kate was a beautiful bride and Prince William was as handsome as he needed to be. Most importantly from my perspective, the dress was fabulous. Diana’s dress, since comparisons with the previous generation are unavoidable, was hideous. It was a style best described as Hillbilly Chic with ruffles, huge, puffy sleeves and a bow in front. It looked like it was designed by Granny Clampett. But Kate’s was elegant and lovely. What a relief!

Speaking of the Clampetts, there were those family members who should have been left at home. I mean, of course, the princesses in the hats – my sister calls them the ugly stepsisters. It’s never a good thing to leave the palace with chunks of it stuck to your head. You’d think they would have learned that in Etiquette 101. And while I’m on the subject of Just Plain Weird, what was with those trees in the church? Couldn’t they at least have been flowering varieties? It is spring after all.

But I’m nit-picking. It was a lovely, romantic occasion and I wish the young couple boundless happiness. Mind you, I hate monarchy and aristocracy in principle. Like any self-respecting, free-born American I believe that all are created equal and rebel at the idea that an in-bred aristocrat has the right to lord it over me just because an ancestor did something worthy 400 years ago. As an old Yiddish saying has it, aristocracy and carrots have one thing in common: the best part is under the ground.

9 comments:

Unknown said...

I wanted to feed Princess Beatrice her stupid hat. What gall! Honestly, it was like she was daring me NOT to choke on the Hot Pocket I was eating in an attempt to remain as American as possible while in a full swoon over the handsome Princes.

Kibbutz Window said...

LOL! She might as well have worn a billboard on her head that said Fashion Victim. I think we had the same reaction -- I nearly spewed my tomato rice soup. By the way, what is a Hot Pocket?

Unknown said...

I took that hat as a personal attack. Although to be fair, it was the wee hours of the morning, and I'd been up all night eating Hot Pockets, so my instincts weren't at their sharpest.

To answer your question, a Hot Pocket is a frozen sandwich-type thing you microwave. The basic formula is bread of some description filled with meat, cheese and possibly vegetables.

The variety I was eating that evening was a soft pretzel bread filled with chicken, "cheese" and jalapeno peppers.

I don't know which I enjoyed more - the flavor, the convenience, or idea of how horrified the Queen would be if she could see me crouched over my paper plate with melted "cheese" on my chin, cursing out her granddaughter.

Who am I kidding?

Kibbutz Window said...

Sounds scrumptious! I dunno, I have a feeling the Queen imagines us all with melted cheese on our chins.

Now that you mention it, the hat could have been a precursor to an attack -- it does look rather like a radar antenna. Do you think the Palace has drones, maybe with stealth capabilities? If so, maybe we'd be wise to keep our heads down.

Unknown said...

I've seen video of Prince Charles break dancing. Literally ANYTHING is possible.

Kibbutz Window said...

LOL, and yet you didn't gouge your own eyes out. That's what I call strong!

Unknown said...

I'll be perfectly honest. It delighted the crap out of me. I'm slightly cracked.

Kibbutz Window said...

You make me laugh, Nico!

Unknown said...

Usually when people say that to me, I start plugging my blog - but I actually like you. That place is just a wasteland of sarcastic movie summaries, my virtual dollhouse stories and me trying to curse as creatively as possible so my mom will be proud of me.