A Royal Coo-up

My oh my oh my.

Life is getting tough for the Kate Middleton, the Deficient Duchess.

If there is one thing good ol' Waity is good at it's shopping and wearing clothes.  I mean, people, she literally exists to waste away so she can wear clothes better than they look on coat hangers.

Until this week that is.  In a surprising fashion coup, Prince George, Cementer of Marriages, has snatched the title of Best Dressed Royal from his mother, Lady Worhtless, Royal Brusher of the Tresses.

But really, could you deny this face?  More importantly, could you deny this face his inheritance?

Mummy!  Your skirt has blown up round your ears again!

I wonder what Waity's strategy for reclaiming the title of Best Dressed Royal will be?  The way I see it, we're either in for a year of tasteful dresses with weighted hems (I'm talking hems stuffed with rocks) or a year full of this:

Bum-tastic!

Me?  I'm torn.  On one hand, I don't think I can take another "Skirt-gate" media frenzy.  On the other hand, I'd love dear old Queen Lizzie to lay the royal smack down.

Otherwise Engaged

You hear that ringing in the distance? It’s the sound of wedding bells. And boy are those bells tolling for some of our favorite bachelors – and by “favorite,” I mean that you’ve probably heard of them and you may not hate them.

Of course, the engagement that’s getting the most attention is that of confirmed bachelor George Clooney. Up until now it appeared that one failed marriage had been enough for him, that one bad experience was all he needed to swear off of the stuff forever.

Kind of like acid.

I’ve heard.

But his aversion to holy matrimony seems to have flown out the window after meeting Lebanese-born, London-based, human rights attorney, Amal Alamuddin. Or perhaps his aversion took flight when he (allegedly) decided to run for political office. Whatever the reason, the fact remains that the man who turned lack of commitment into an art form is now scheduled to walk down an Italian aisle in September (a very good month, I must say). I think this is a learning opportunity for all of us: Even the impossible is possible if you just believe. This means that, yes, Taylor Swift may actually have a functional relationship someday, and the ATG girls may one day be fans of the Deficient Duchess.

Just kidding.

Neither of those will ever happen.

The lawyer and her love

This next engagement is almost too painful for me to write about. In fact, it took me almost two months to pull myself together enough to even string a few coherent words together. Yes, my dear friends, it appears that my boyfriend is engaged. No, blessedly I’m not referring to the SGP. I’m referring instead to my other boyfriend: Donnie Wahlberg. The hardest part about this awful situation is that I had to find out about it online, just like everyone else. I feel like Minnie Driver.

But I’ll try to pull myself up from the depths of despair long enough to tell you that my rattail-loving boyfriend is engaged to his clothing-optional girlfriend of almost a year, Jenny McCarthy. I know. Gross. But the truth is, if this is the kind of girl he’s into, then we just never had a chance. Apparently classy and smart isn’t really his type.

And, just like that, I’m over it.

The New Kid with his new fiancée

And since we’re on the topic of engagements of 80’s/90’s personalities, I feel it appropriate to mention that Joey Galdstone is also about to make an honest woman out of his longtime girlfriend, Melissa Bring. Actually, it’s Dave Coulier who’s making women honest, but, as a diehard Full House fan, he’ll always be funnyman Joey Gladstone to me – especially since he hasn’t, to my knowledge, worked at all much since the show wrapped in 1995. (Can you believe this show has been off the air for almost 20 years? How old do you feel right now?) And speaking of Full House, it’s expected that Dave’s upcoming nuptials will be somewhat of a show reunion. I’m talking heavy hitters like Uncle Jesse, Danny, D.J., Aunt Becky - all the big names - rumored to be there. Who else is hoping that when the officiant asks Dave if he takes Melissa to be his lawful wedded wife, blah, blah blah, he responds with, “You got it, dude!”?

Will these two soon have their own full house?

Whether or not any of these couples actually make it down the aisle remains to be seen, but considering that all three of these guys have been married before, it appears that they all subscribe to a similar theory: If at first you don’t succeed, get really famous – or, in fairness, way less famous – and try again.

Stupid Is As Stupid Does

Well, friends, in the interest of full disclosure, I think you should know that I’m getting dumber.

Most people, when they realize that their brains are atrophying, choose to strengthen them by learning a new language, reading a little Voltaire, perhaps picking up a book of Sudoku. But what did I do? I watched Fox’s I Wanna Marry Harry.

It didn’t help.  

Listen, if anyone can understand the desire to marry the Sweet Ginger Prince, it’s this girl, but COME ON. Is this for real? I really can’t tell.

I mean, I went into it knowing full well that it had to be a joke. These girls couldn’t possibly be dumb enough to seriously believe it was Harry. Sure, they were choosing to go on a reality show – on Fox, no less – but, still, no one’s that stupid, right?

The unfortunate answer is, I’m not sure.

Perhaps these ladies should consider availing themselves of some Voltaire or Sudoku.

Separated at birth? You decide.

Let’s hope that the women on this show are readers of ATG – although, if they’re not, it would support my hypothesis that they’re not very smart – because I’m about to break down just a few of the reasons why this fellow couldn’t, under any circumstances, be my beloved Harry:

1)      In what universe does the SGP, the world’s most eligible bachelor, need a dating show to meet girls/find a girlfriend?

2)      In what universe would the Queen be okay with her future granddaughter-in-law being picked from a group of wannabe actresses on a reality dating show? Sure, she’s apparently relaxed her standards a little considering that Duchass Kate somehow weaseled her way into the Firm, but I have to imagine that sex on TV is still a no-no.

3)      In what universe does this guy look anything like Prince Harry? I understand that not everyone is as big a connoisseur of Harry’s face as I am, but still. Aside from both having red hair and the whole British thing, these two are nothing alike. In fact, I’d be more inclined to believe that this chap was the other brother, William (except for the fact that his hair is red – and he has a lot of it).

This is the one that many consider to be the frontrunner. And this isn't even her ugliest face. Yep, I think that pretty much sums up this show.

I’m not saying that these aren’t the types of girls that Harry typically dates. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised at all if dumb, falsely superior, and generically pretty is very much his type. But I find it very hard to believe that Harry – an integral member of a family that seems to value privacy and decorum almost above all else – would be stupid enough to allow the world a bird’s eye view of his poor decision making. And even if he showed impaired judgment on this one, I’m fairly certain that his handlers/grandmum would never, ever, ever, under any circumstances, ever allow it to happen.

For all these reasons, this ruse just isn’t one that I can ever imagine myself falling for, which means that, even with my partially atrophied brain, I’m still apparently too intelligent to “marry Harry.”

Bum's the Word

There’s big news coming out of Australia following the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge’s visit last month. It’s pretty earth-shattering. Hope you’ve taken your heart meds. Ready?

Kate Middleton has a bum – or butt, if you’re not feeling particularly delicate today. Not only that, but German tabloid, Bild, has recently published a photo in which the royal rear is on full display.

I know. It’s shocking.

It would be more shocking if we hadn’t seen it over and over. And over. In fact, given the number of “wind-blown” moments the delicate duchess has had, I’m wondering if perhaps she doesn’t understand what wind is or how it works.

Or perhaps, more likely, she is under the misconception that nature is so overcome by her awesomeness, much like the rest of the world, that it simply cannot function when in the presence of her greatness; that wind ceases to blow when she’s around simply because it forgets how to.

Except, here’s the problem, it wasn’t even real wind. It was artificial wind, produced by a helicopter. I can’t imagine that Kate is unfamiliar with the effects that helicopter blades can have on one’s modesty – I’m fairly certain this wasn’t her first encounter with such a machine – but, even if she was, don’t you think her husband, a helicopter pilot, might have encouraged her to hold her flimsy skirt down as she crossed paths with the wind machine? It’s a fair assumption that he at least would understand the dangers of such a strong breeze, even if his poor wife was ignorant of them. I assume this is precisely why he’s chosen not to pursue a hairpiece despite his rapidly disappearing follicles.

Apparently sometimes she's capable of remembering...

Listen, I’m not a totally heartless beast. The first time Kate’s skirt went sky high, I felt compassion. The second time Kate’s skirt went sky high, I felt pity. The third time Kate’s skirt went sky high I felt that perhaps she wasn’t the brightest diamond in the tiara. But now? Now I just feel bored. It’s almost as if she’s doing it on purpose, because it’s not, as has been argued, out of her control.

Do you know how I know that it’s not out of her control? The Queen. The Queen has never, to my – or the internet’s – knowledge, exposed her royal bum (either accidentally or intentionally) to a mass of innocent bystanders. And do you know why? First, because she’s way classy; and second, because she weights her skirts. If even I, a lowly American commoner, am privy to this information, I have to imagine that Kate is as well. Surely someone in Kate’s life has recommended this trick to her. Would it not then behoove her to perhaps try this tact as a way to keep her private bits private?

And speaking of private, can someone please explain to me how publishing these pictures – something that many media agencies have refused to do – is an invasion of privacy? It may be in poor taste, but it’s certainly not an invasion of privacy. Taking pictures of the Deficient Duchess with a long-range camera lens as she sunbathed topless at a private villa, that was an invasion of privacy. Snapping a photo at a public event where there was no legitimate expectation of privacy? Nope, sorry, no invasions here. The fact that Kate chose not to wear much/any underwear to a public event is on her, not the photographer. This is a 32-year-old woman who has been living in the public eye for over a decade. If she hasn’t yet learned about the dangers of the paparazzi – or wind – the Firm has way bigger issues to contend with than one butt picture.

Perhaps when the Queen requested that Kate wear longer skirts on her trip abroad, she should also have requested that Kate wear some type of undergarment. On the other hand, perhaps she assumed that this went without saying.

You know what happens when we assume though, Lizzie: It makes an ass out of you and Kate.

And it makes Kate’s ass a trending topic on Twitter.  

Love Is Blind. And Deaf, Apparently.

Giving credence to the old adage that there’s someone for everyone, Kimye – that’s Kim Kardashian and Kanye West for those not up on all things Kartrashian – are officially tying the knot on Saturday. In Florence. Via Paris. (Maybe they don’t understand that Florence and Paris aren’t in the same country?) And as the wedding participants begin their European takeover, I would like to take this opportunity to extend my sincerest condolences to all in the path of the Kimyecane that is hurtling its way towards your fair land. Perhaps representatives like this are the reason people think Americans are so awful.

I haven’t much been keeping up on the upcoming nuptials of this egotastic couple – because, well, I don’t really care – but there are a few vomit-worthy items worth noting.

Remember around the time of The Royal Wedding (which I capitalize as a sign of respect; it was, after all, the most important event of our time, of any time really), E! wrote that asinine article comparing the Kardashians to the British Royal Family? (If you don’t, and who could blame you for blocking such madness from your brain, you can read ATG’s recap here.) It was after reading this article that I became thoroughly convinced that someone – or many someones – needed a nonstop bus ticket to Rehab Town. No one in his right mind could possibly think this was a valid comparison, so the only logical explanation is that someone – or many someones – was on some major mood altering (or intelligence altering) drugs. Hard to imagine that this could be the case in L.A., right? I know.

But you know who apparently didn’t think this was such a crazy comparison – or who may be sharing the same mind-altering drugs? Kim Kardashian. In fairness, the Kim Kardashian/Kate Middleton comparison was the only one that I could almost agree with E! on.

And apparently Kim is so convinced that she’s America’s answer to the Middletons (which, again, I’m not entirely disputing) that a) she decided that she would have her wedding at France’s most famous royal residence and b) she commissioned Kate’s wedding dress designer, Sarah Burton, to make her a similar wedding dress – only sluttier.

The "regal" couple at a pre-wedding event.

Kim’s first choice for wedding destination was the Palace of Versailles. Yes, you read that right. Apparently Kimpee thinks that being reality TV “royalty” equates to being actual royalty. Sorry, hon, but Marie-Antoinette you ain’t, despite the similarly large hair and overall hatred by the masses.

Not so surprisingly, Kimye was denied the honor of marrying in the house that Louis built, because, well, they’re just not quite important enough. 

And since I know you’re simply dying for more details, here are a few more tidbits about this royally ridiculous wedding:

      

•  Although the duo won’t be wed at Versailles, they will be hosting their rehearsal dinner there. They will then jet off to Florence where they will be married in a fort, the Belvedere to be exact. I’m told this is dissimilar to the tree forts that we had as kids, but having never been to the Belvedere I can neither confirm nor deny this assertion.

• It is a widely held belief that Jay Z will act as best man; but as far as I can tell, any man standing next to Kanye West is the best man – or at least the better man. Amiright? Was that rude?

• The Italian Army has allegedly been called in as security for what’s being reported will be a guest list of 3,000. Seriously, does the military have nothing better to do than protect these two pretentious snobs and their equally as pretentious friends? Does anyone really care enough about Kimye to endanger their lives/safety? That seems like an awful lot of work with very little payoff at the end.

• Kim’s stepbrother Brody Jenner will reportedly not be in attendance. I thought perhaps he was choosing to stay away so as to avoid the embarrassment of being associated with this disaster. Then I remembered that he was on The Hills. Embarrassing disasters are kind of his thing.

• The dress. The dress that just had to be designed by the same blessed hands that designed the dress of another famous royal. The dress that had to mimic the design of that aforementioned royal, with just a few alterations - namely, a deeper V in the front (to show more boob) and a more skin-tight design (to show more, well, everything). Yeah, that dress cost a reported TWO MILLION DOLLARS. And she’s not even sure she’s going to wear it.  I can’t. I just can’t.

As more and more details emerge about this wedding – the extravagance, the opulence, the huge price tags – I’m reminded of the phrase “lipstick on a pig.” But of course I would never say it out loud.

That would be rude.

Ask and You Shall Receive

It’s official!

Well, I think it’s official.

At least, according to the internet it’s official and since they can’t put anything on the internet that isn’t true, I think we can safely say that our Sweet Ginger Prince is officially back on the market! Yes, my dear friends, Handsome Harry is back to a life of late-night Baywatch marathons, scratching inappropriately, and leaving the seat up. (Isn’t that what all single guys do?)

“A source close to the couple” told CNN that, after two years together, Harry and his lady love, Cressida Bonas, decided to split – though amicably. Apparently they still remain “best of friends.” Gag.

The split is being blamed, at least partially, on the intense media attention that comes with being linked to one of the world’s most eligible bachelors, but I feel like this intense media attention is getting a bad rap. It’s not exactly like Cressida didn’t know what she was signing up for. She’s friends with Princess Eugenie for crying out loud! She runs in royal circles. Royal life – and all that comes with it – isn’t exactly an unknown beast to her. But why am I looking a gift horse in the mouth? Harry’s single again. I’m pretty sure that’s all that matters at this point.

Splitsville: Party of two

As a side note, Cressida has apparently been granted “compassionate leave” from her job. Is this a real thing? Do we do it in America? Do you have to have broken up with a royal to qualify? It sounds kind of fantastic. I’m pretty sure that, given my terribly difficult life, my many, many heartbreaks, and my ability to overdramatize everything, I could get a lot of use out of this type of leave.

Apparently Kate also enjoyed compassionate leave when she and Wills split in 2007. Since the world revolves around Kate, that makes total sense, but I’m now starting to wonder if perhaps this “compassionate leave” is a real thing and not just something that was entirely made up for the delicate Duchess.

Harry, on the other hand, apparently didn’t feel the need for compassion and chose instead to spend this past weekend abroad with his brother, drowning his sorrows in sunshine and barbeque.

Yes, the Boys Windsor spent the weekend in the States – Memphis, to be exact – where they were celebrating the wedding of good friend, Guy Pelly. Single and in my country of origin? Is it my birthday and someone forgot to tell me? 

Going to the chapel. Kind of.

William and Harry stayed fairly low-key while in the Volunteer State, but the princes did find time to, wait for it, pay homage to the King (where’s my rimshot?) by making a stop at Graceland. I can’t even imagine what I would have done if I’d been at Graceland, minding my own business and marinating on all the delicious bedazzled Elvis goodness, only to see Prince 1 and Prince 2 come shuffling on by. Actually, strike that. I know exactly what I would have done…and then I would have hoped that I had a change of clothes in the car.

The photo to come out of the Graceland visit is a bit odd. It feels a little like a shot of Bigfoot in the wild; like a mythical creature hiding in the brush, caught for only a brief second as he ventured out of his safe habitat for food – fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches, to be exact.

It's a bird. It's a plane. It's a...prince?

And since we’re on the topic of royal photographs...

You may have heard that Kate recently returned from a trip to Australia/New Zealand with her husband and baby. ATG didn’t cover this “work” engagement because, well, you know, every other media agency in the world “reported” on it ad nauseam. BUT, apparently, the Deficient Duchess has officially selected her favorite photograph from the trip.

And the award goes to…

Just one more man wetting himself over Kate Middleton.

Literally.

You Must Have Been a Beautiful Baby

The year was 2001. The show was Survivor. The season was The Australian Outback. And the boy (because there’s always a boy) was Colby Donaldson.

I loved Colby Donaldson – and everything named Colby by extension: cheese, the computer with the missing memory, my pet duck (who may or may not have been named for the Survivor), everything.

I must admit that I was slightly disappointed when, after Survivor, old Colbster made the oh-so-cliché move from small-town Texas to the bright lights of Hollywood in order to pursue an acting career. I was even more disappointed to learn that he can’t act. At all. (I would assume casting directors were a bit disappointed by this as well.)

Lucky for him, he’s pretty, which is probably why he’s had marginal success as a TV host. Whatever the reason, I’m always pleasantly surprised to find his baby blues on my TV.

 We could've put a boring old picture here, but he's just SO MUCH BETTER in living color, don't you think?   

And today, my friends, the handsome lad with the limited acting ability, perfect teeth and boyish good looks turns, wait for it, FORTY.

Yikes.

I feel old. I bet he does too.

It’s a good thing some of us just keep getting better with age, huh, Colby?