I've made no secret of my desire to marry into the British Royal Family. More than ever, in these trying times, I think it would a place of great refuge for me (and Jeff and our son, of course), and I could contribute a great deal to Royal family life. A cute baby, for starters. Plus, I give a great dinner party. I'd need a little help with the hats, but I could do ribbon cutting ceremonies and the like.
The difficulty, of course, has been in arranging a MEETING with me and one of the young Princes. This blog, shockingly, has not seemed to provide the necessary entre. My current plans are fairly pathetic, such as screaming on the red carpet when Princes William and Harry will attend the new Bond film premiere in London. Where would I find child care, first of all? And granted I'm tall, but I'm really not a crowd person. Not my scene.
Alternatively, Buckingham Palace has an opening for trainee butlers. Maybe, but my guess is there's like a five thousand year old ban on princes marrying butlers. And I'd probably get fired anyway for not polishing the silver right. I can't even do the dishes right in my own house, it's all crusty pans and sour-milk smelling bottles, it ain't pretty.
But! Recent "events" have possibly given me my chance!
First, Prince William recently became a rescue pilot for the Royal Air Force. I know! It's perfect, isn't it? I just need to get myself into a little bind, and then he can rescue me! My blunder would be serious enough for a helicopter rescue, but not really that serious and something to temporarily enhance my feminine vulnerability. A sprained ankle, perhaps? A hangnail? Some kind of swoon? We will gaze into each others' eyes, and before you can say Joe Six Pack I am a princess.
But the question is, you ask, how will you get into the right sort of bind? And I have an answer. See, Queen Elizabeth has commissioned the world's largest wind turbine. You're seeing where this is going, right? I just need to get myself involved with the turbine-building on new Scottish "offshore windfarms," someplace where, in an emergency, a RAF rescue helicopter will be the best way to save me.
I'm still figuring out the details on how exactly I will find myself involved with the wind turbine project, knowing nothing about wind, turbines, engineering, or math. Jeff knows about mathematics, maybe he would get a job on the turbine and I could go along to make everyone tea and biscuits. Or maybe they would hire me to assess the public health impacts of the new turbine, being a card-carrying assessor of emerging technology and all. But it would be something cool. In fact, maybe Jeff and I could join them as a team. (Hugo, of course, would have a very important job as worshipper of all the guys.) I'm liking the sound of this.
I think this may be my big break. So stay tuned, yall, soon you will be able to say you knew me when.