A Royal Mess

Nothing disgusts me more than the general public's reaction to this whole Royal Wedding business.  Well, alright, that's probably a lie.  There are things that disgust me more - the smell of Pad Thai, for one thing.  Sheep.  John Howard's eyebrows.  My own self-assurance when it comes to the idea that people are actually reading this blog.  And diarrhea.  If there is anyone out there who doesn't find diarrhea at least slightly disgusting, please, let yourself be known so I can track you down, kick you in the balls, and force-feed you laxatives until you change your mind.
Much appreciated.
But back to the topic at hand.
I'm sure Kate and William (yes, we are on a first name basis) are lovely.  Perfectly lovely in fact, and I'm not just saying that because I would gladly show William's younger brother a good time any day of the week despite the whole Nazi uniform prank thing and him having red hair.  Sure that's part of it, but come on.  People are obsessed with this wedding.  And not just that - people are obsessed with being invited to the wedding.  Really, 60-something-year-old lady who lives in my neighbourhood and sometimes makes conversation with me on the street?  Sorry, dude.  I don't care how many times you iron your 'special-occasion slacks', you're not getting an invite.
Surprisingly, my parents aren't getting too excited about the whole thing.  And when I say 'surprisingly', I'm talking about my Mum.  The only way a wedding is gonna get my Dad out of his chair is if someone asks him to pay for it.  Mum, on the other hand, is the kind of lady who orders collectable Michael Jackson dinner plates from the back page of the TV Guide.  I asked her what she thought of the wedding and here's what I got:

Mum: It's true, I don't care that much.  When Charles and Diana got married I was glued to the television.  GLUED!  Do you remember?
Me: Ma, I wasn't even born ye-
Mum: Oooh, and then again when she died, remember that?
Me: Kind of, but I was only like five, and-
Mum: But yeah, this time, not so much.
Me: Right.
Mum: Yeah.
Me: Right.
Mum: Yeah.
(Pause)
Mum: I'm getting a souvenir out of the TV Guide though.  For sure.

I didn't have time to laugh at that, because Grey's Anatomy had started, and it was the episode where a school bus crashes and some dude gets a pencil jammed all the way into his eye.  Add that to the list of things that disgust me - somewhere between 'corned beef' and 'the smell of vacuum cleaners'.