This is My Post About the Royal Wedding.

The press will regale us commoners with time-checks, dress designers, something about Princess Diana's legacy, another royal guard who's tweeted some nugget of wisdom hidden under that big furry hat.

So Hail Mary! God save the Queen! blahblahblah...just remember that this is an NJZ (no judgment zone.)

The Royal Wedding's cramming up my Google search and slowing down CNN.com! Shoot. When do we get to AskJeeves about:

• how many times Prince Harry's gotten it in with Pippa.
• if Prince William can bend it like Beckham.
• when was the last time poor Kate was allowed to eat solids.
• what hour will Elton John's fairy wings sprout from his jacket.

There is NEVER anything juicy for us to sink our teeth into!! The Prince and his fair maiden have been keeping it cool, under lock and key this who time. Separate bedrooms. Handwritten love notes...

"Pray tell, my sweet. My heart doth skip a beat

when you are near.

Won't you be

the Elton to my John?

the fish to my chips?

I lie awake at night

yearning to touch

your sweet lips,

still tasting of that blackberry jam

from our late afternoon

tea and crumpet RAM."

Smooth. Dudes these days are just a few pentameters short of Shakespeare. Throwing out some text about a KFC, finger-licking good lunch date and expecting our panties to drop. If you're lucky you get an ecard proposal on your Smartphone at the gas station...Like, holla! Find your carriage, glass slippers and pearl necklace.

KFC, blackberry...Fannypack, saddlebags.  Shit's all the same. cluck, cluck.

photo courtesy of a j-fizz drive-by

Jam and toast, anyone?