But I still don't think Prince William is good looking.

OK, I’ll admit it. I think this Royal Wedding stuff is pretty awesome. Probably because I’m totally fascintated by the mixture of fairy tale elements (princesses, castles, etc.) and modern life that exists in today’s monarchies. I mean, the royal family of England doesn’t serve any real polititcal purpose anymore, yet tomorrow is a national holiday because of this shindig and, from what I understand, public funds are being used to pay the bills. I shudder to think what kind of riots would break out in the U.S. if, say, the Obamas decided to renew their vows and made a big to-do of it.

This wedding has also made my habit of reading trashy magazines at the grocery store slightly more classy, since instead of documenting the train-wreck lives of the Kardashians or Jersey Shore castmates, their pages of are now filled with sparkling tiaras, royal pedigree charts, and old photos of Princess Di. In fact, just yesterday I was looking through a fancy“collector’s edition” of Us Weekly devoted exclusively to the wedding while a Rite Aid cashier stared at me with judging eyes (he does not take kindly to my “browse through the magazines for ten minutes then only buy a gallon of milk” routine) .

Oh and have you seen this blog? My friend Marie linked it on her blog and I think it’s hysterical. True, some of the jokes are pretty lame but there are some gems like these:

According to the aforementioned magazine, Kate Middleton is actually a pretty nice, down-to-earth type person, but I figure since she A) is marrying a prince and thereby crushing the hopes of many British girls, B) will never have to worry about finances a day in her life, and C) has an absolutely ridiculous body that most women can only dream of, we’re allowed to have a few laughs at her expense.

This is how you roll when your names are Dasha and Masha

Below is a photo of Smash and I in one of the many coordinating outfits we sported in our younger years:

Judging from our expressions in this photo we were super jazzed about them.

Twenty some odd years later we showed up to Easter dinner looking like this:
Identical sweaters: check.
Grey shirts: check.
Dark jeans: check.
Grey TOMS(not pictured): check.

If you click on the picture and look closely you can see that we're even wearing the same shade of nail polish. And we've upped the ante on our childhood selves by adding matching hairstyles to the equation (which would have been impossible in the heyday of Smash's blonde 'fro).

The best part is that this was totally unplanned. Well, unless you count the planning that took place on my parents' part when they gave my younger sister and I rhyming names and essentially treated us like identical twins our whole lives. Apparently old habits die hard.