It's Pippa, Bitch

Last week, my mother asked me if I was excited about the upcoming Royal Wedding. As I had barely given it a thought since the royal announcement some months before, I replied no and remained in a state of ignorance beyond the occasional headline about the whole affair up through the actual ceremony. I heard Victoria Beckham was attending the ceremony, so, of course, I made a joke that I hoped she would stand up in the middle of the ceremony and object to the wedding or wear white to upstage the bride. While flipping through photos and commentaries on the ceremony, I quickly came to the conclusion that it wasn't Victoria we had to worry about stealing Kate's thunder. All along, it was Kate's younger sister and maid-of-honor Pippa Middleton who was the real star of the wedding. As soon as I saw her in that gorgeous (white!) form-fitting dress, I was in love.

But who was this woman? I immediately took to her but I had no idea what her story was. So, being a so-called "creative type," I crafted my own backstory of Pippa Middleton without so much as hearing the woman speak. Since Kate appears so prim and proper, marrying the boring prince, I like to think that Pippa is the wild Middleton child. She knows how to go out and have a good time, drinking the night away and hooking up with hot guy after hot guy. But she's not a vapid, personality-free sex doll; she has a witty reply for everything and can't seem to stop herself from making an off-color joke at the most inappropriate time. In other words, she's my favorite type of female, the sexually liberated kind with a smart mouth.

"First I have to be the bridesmaid at the biggest wedding of the century and now I'm on daycare duty. Bloody hell, who did I kill in a past life?"

With this image in mind, now comes my favorite ingredient in this wedding story: the best man, Prince Harry. A bit of a wild child himself--keep in mind this is the same man who, years ago, wore a Nazi storm trooper outfit on Halloween to the horror of many people--the mixture of him and Pippa sounded like the ideal combination for a hell of a party. The post-wedding bash was apparently free of hard liquor, aka not my type of wedding at all, but I liked to believe both Harry and Pippa had a flask of something good hidden on them to make it through. And then, after the party died down, I just knew that Harry and Pippa would carry out their duties as maid-of-honor and best man by hooking up for some hot, drunken sex in a deserted part of Buckingham Palace. I mean, look at what a hot piece of ass Pippa is and then look at Harry's current girlfriend. He deserves a hottie like Pippa; he's third in line for the throne, for God's sake!

So, I suppose the point of this blog post was to explain why I've been stanning so hard for the future queen's unwed sister these past few days on my Twitter and Facebook accounts. I suppose you all know by now that I can't help these things, but it's still worth committing to "paper" for posterity's sake. When my brother marries royalty (I'm LOLing at the thought) and I become the new Pippa Middleton, I'll look back at this and remember how I should act at the wedding. Hopefully his bride will have a hot gay man-of-honor I can screw in the palace closet.

Classy bitch. Just like me.