I got up at 3:00am my time this morning to watch the Royal Wedding. (I think you get arrested by beefeaters or something if you don't capitalize that.) The fact that I can do this with no ill effects is one of the myriad of benefits of being an unemployed college student.
It's also the perfect opportunity to get up in the middle of the night and have exactly two cups of coffee that would have been embarrassingly plain and in no way appropriate for a Royal Wedding if I hadn't served it to myself in a silver-rimmed coffee mug (which renders any cup of coffee immediately ineligible for microwave reheat, because of the metal rim) and with the honey coffee creamer that my friend Sue turned me onto. Two points here. The addition of the honey creamer and the special coffee cup instantly renders my coffee frou-frou and Royal Wedding Appropriate. And Sue is not my only friend, contrary to what this blog might suggest. She's just the friend who has the most influence on my daily choices of food and beverage. Oh, also I'm having an embarrassingly huge and tasty chocolate-chip muffin. Anything less would be horribly low-claaass.
I have a history of plopping myself down in front of the TV for events that I feel are somehow "historical." This dates all the way back to 1981, when I can remember lying in bed with my mother, watching another Royal Wedding (it's actually one of my earliest memories). Since then, I've made a point to watch things like the OJ Simpson verdict, That One Time When Prince Charles Had To Give Hong Kong Back To The Chinese, Princess Diana's funeral, Michael Jackson's funeral, Barack Obama's Inauguration, and all sorts of shock and awe. (Probably, I watched other memorable occasions in history, but they can't have been too memorable, or I'd have remembered them here, wouldn't I.) I will absolutely admit to sobbing like a baby throughout the two funerals mentioned above and also the inauguration.
I did not watch any of the lead-up to the wedding, not even the Lifetime movie, because I don't care about any of that. It's not the love story I'm watching here, because I'm essentially a cold-hearted reptile. I'm in it for the history, people. The history.
We're only at the "arriving" stage, which is startlingly like the Oscars, except that nobody stops on the red carpet to talk to the press. I'm watching this totally alone in my living room, as the rest of my very sane family is still sleeping. I'm pretty sure that M1, like any other nine-year-old girl, wishes that she could be up with me right now, but she has school today, so I get to watch it blissfully alone, muttering to myself ("Oh, William and Harry look so handsome!" and "Wow, that outfit is unfortunate." [That last one is directed to Camilla, Duchess of Cornwall, who I sort of hate for no good reason at all.]) and stuffing my face with muffin and frou-frou coffee.
The one issue I have to address at this time, given that the wedding hasn't even started, is the wearing of completely bizarre hats. I realize that this is some sort of British tradition, but WTF. I'm looking at you, Princesses Beatrice and Eugenie. I can't ever tell the two of them apart (I mean, I know they look different, but I don't know which is which), but one or the other of them looks like she has a huge logic puzzle stapled to her forehead, and the other one looks like she has an explosion of feathers occurring on the very top of her head. Piers Morgan on CNN has informed me that this is called a fascinator. I'm certainly fascinated by it. I could probably stare at it for hours. And if I did, it might just tell me the secrets of the universe and blow my fucking mind.
While I totally understand that if I'm socially-aware and whatnot, I shouldn't be watching this (what with all the unemployed people in Britain and the fact that the very same nation spent millions upon millions of pounds/Euros/whatever on this event and all), I'm still going to watch it. And I'm going to enjoy it. And I'm going to weep copiously. I have tissues all ready.
In fact, I will totally cop to tears when William and Harry arrived, because they look so handsome. The tears weren't even a little bit about how sad it is that their mom can't be there today. And maybe I like tears with my middle-of-the-night historical event watching. Don't you judge me.
No comments:
Post a Comment