Fine. I admit it. I CARE about the royal wedding. Sue me! Abdicate me! De-knight me! Why, I cannot not tell you. I’m not British. I don’t like scones. I find the Windsors to be largely unfortunate-looking. I can only imagine that it feeds into my fantasy of becoming famous for doing absolutely nothing. But yes, I plan on being among the 2 billion televisual wedding crashers.

Given this, you may or may not understand the following. But when I saw footage of Kate and her sister Pippa driving from Buckleberry to London in advance of the big day, I couldn’t help myself. Uncontrollably, I envisioned my sister and myself in the same situation. Because – and ONLY because – I am older, I will play the Kate role and Jamie will channel Pippa.

Setting: Interior of a luxury sedan as it moves painfully slowly through the British countryside.

PippaJamie: Uch can you drive ANY slower?! You’re going to miss the wedding!

KateTraci: Sorry! I haven’t driven in 10 years and they seem to have moved the steering wheel to the other side. Do you think I’m going to throw up?

PippaJamie: You are SO annoying.

KateTraci: I have a stomachache. What if it’s Ebola?

PippaJamie: You ALWAYS have a stomachache. It’s not Ebola. It might be Fifth’s Disease though.

KateTraci: [tearing up] I’m sorry! I’m nervous!

PippaJamie: I’m sorry. I know it’s stressful. But just think, after the wedding, you’ll never be allowed to poop again! So, how do you think I should wear my hair?

KateTraci: Half-up. Seriously, do you think that pub has a clean bathroom?

PippaJamie: No. Just crap in your wrap dress. Do you think my butt looks Large Marge in that acqua Valentino dress?

KateTraci: No. Do you think my head looks Large Marge in that fascinator?

PippaJamie: No. Will I get fat if I eat that clotted cream?

KateTraci: No. Do you think Jan will be on time to the hair appointments?

PippaJamie: No. She’s still ranting about how the Queen of Sweden only gave you $1000.

KateTraci: I know, I know. But that was real nice of Elton John to offer to perform, right?

[Car phone rings]

CaroleJan: No. It wouldn’t have killed him to cough up a gift. He’s loaded. And you know something? It was a slap in the face for Diana not to show up to your shower. [insert unintelligible Yiddish]

PippaJamie: [very excited] Omigod be quiet I LOVE this song.

KateTraci: I hate this song. It’s so grunge. You’re so bossy.

PippaJamie: [turns up volume and sings along to Nirvana-esque lyrics performed at 78 decibals: I hate myself I hate my life I kill mahself I kill mah wife …]

KateTraci: That is so not fair! It’s my wedding! In any other family I would pick the driving music!

[Fatherly voice on car phone]

MichaelLew: Relax, both of you! I am not getting in the middle of this! Do you have cab fare?

PippaJamie: I’ll take a twenty.

KateTraci: [sighs] Yeah, okay, I guess I’ll take one too.