If I were truly Bridget Jones, I'm sure I would have watched the Royal Wedding Friday morning. She'd have had friends over, and they'd all drink mimosas (and when she ran out of OJ, just straight booze). Jude would have brought over lady fingers with raspberry jam. Shaz would have come over, under protest, to argue about how wasteful all of the fashion and ceremony (all of which she knew by heart and in great detail) were to the tax-payer's money. No doubt, all three would be drooling over the idea of being a princess. A real princess.
However, I couldn't have cared less about the whole thing and didn't set my alarm clock OR DVR so I could watch the ceremony. Nope, I just went about life as if it were a normal day. Because it was. I wonder if I'll live to regret that one day. I remember watching a tape my mom made of Princess Diana's wedding. (Gosh, is that possible, to have had a VCR then?) I know she got together with a friend to watch it live and probably ate something very British while doing so. Why is it so different this go-round? I know plenty of people who were into the wedding, but personally, I didn't care at all. And when I saw unavoidable clips in the news, all I could think was "I'd have fallen on my face or embarrassed myself in some way. Thank goodness I won't ever be a princess."
Well, I guess Bridget and I have that in common at least. Falling down a lot.