Hm, um, yeah, so I decided it was time to continue this. If anyone cares. I wouldn't be surprised if the answer is negative. :)

Please, please, please be kinder than I have been to you lately (it's called taking the high road!), and leave a review. Just for me to see if it is even worth to continue this.

Hope you're enjoying Royal Wedding, y'all! I personally think it is a bit of a letdown :/

xx, w.

January 25, 11 am, the bed

I decided to call Lars first.

"Why would you want me to come to Switzerland?" he asked. He didn't sound too happy. Apparently since Lars and Pierre both had some free time on their hands, they rented a boat and went fishing (I made sure they didn't throw any garbage into the water, of course.).

"Do you feel threatened?" he went on.

"No," I repeated for like a billionth time. "I just really want you to come here, that's all."

Of course I couldn't tell him that Michael needed best man. Lars' phone could easily be tapped or something. You never know in this time and day – I mean, just look at Kate.

She is a perfect princess, and yet the photographers caught her in a delicate moment of not wearing her bikini top. Kate. Who looks like Gisele Bündchen like a day after she gives birth. I am sure she knows every trick in the book of avoiding the paparazzi (I obviously don't. Otherwise I wouldn't be friends with a guy who called the reporters every time we were within a mile of each other for YEARS until it finally occurred to me), and now there are pictures of her boobs floating around the internet. If this isn't big enough of a reason for me to be CAREFUL with this wedding thing (maybe I should start using a code for it? Like, RWWG – Royal Wedding Without Grandmere? But then I would have to go buy a new diary and burn this one in the fireplace. Which is both impossible, as, a) I don't know how to light a fire in a fireplace, and b) it is too cold outside to go out in search of a stationer's. We are so high in the mountains, I doubt there even is one. Though, on the other hand, what do people do around here other than write when it's freezing and the blizzards bring down the electrical wires, thus they can't watch TV in the evening? I am sure people living in Iceland write in the evenings. I don't remember any of their writers at the moment, but I am sure their high literary rate and cultural awareness rank them among the best literates in the world. I am even surer that Damien Rice knew just what he was doing when he chose Iceland for his second home. Great art speaks for itself.).

I mean, I know Michael always tells me I am being paranoid about this whole there-might-be-paparazzi-on-the-desert-island-you-rented-just-for-us-for-a-weekend-thus-I-will-not-take-my-top-off-besides-nothing-more-has-grown-during-the-transatlantic-flight-anyway thing. But, hey, like Kurt said, just because you're paranoid, it doesn't mean they're not after you. Of course Michael rolls his eyes even more when I say this, given I picked this line up while we were listening to Nirvana (I read on Twitter that couples who listen to music together tend to have longer relationships. Since I am a firm believer in never throwing an advice away if it is handed to you on a silver plate (which my Twitter feed of course is), I immediately implemented this in our relationship. So two days per week we both listen to the same music – on Mondays, his (I don't really like his grunge stuff, so I figure better to get over with it at the start of the week), and Thursdays are mine. (Go, Hilary Duff! I have never heard a transition more perfect from a teen idol to a sophisticated pop star. Michael of course doesn't have necessary experiences to appreciate Breathe In. Breathe Out., since he never listened to any of the teen idols, not even Ryan Cabrera, who was like totally not what you'd expect from a teenage star. I mean, he actually wrote his own songs and played the guitar. Oh, those were the golden days of the MTV. And probably the reason why I couldn't pass Algebra. I was doing nothing but watch videos! Maybe there something good about MTV having such a crappy program these days - teenagers aren't as distracted when it comes to doing their homework (and most of them probably aren't royals, or obliged to help their best friend shoot her TV Show, but whatever)).

So I said, "Lars, I am really saddened by the fact I need to mention this, but you are my bodyguard. I am basically your boss, and since you are not on an official holiday, you should do whatever I tell you to. I don't want to sound bossy or authoritative, but it's the truth. Besides, you totally owe me after that thing in Bolivia when I covered for you and said you got sick from eating a raw fish, supposedly a delicacy there, and hid the fact you were actually hangover from partying with a Guatemalan blonde claiming to be the Guatemalan best muffin baker, who got away with all your money, and your best pairs of underwear since your room key too was in your wallet."

"I still can't believe she didn't end up selling them on the Guatemalan eBay," Lars sighed. "She could get a fortune for them, you know."

(They were handmade, a gift from Grandmere's friend from Brunei. They were originally intended for Michael, but I told him I would sleep in a room closer to Grandmere's for a month if he ever wore them, because yellow underwear just doesn't look good on him. It just doesn't. And no, it wasn't a sex manipulation. And no, I didn't learn it form Grandmere.)

"So I expect you to arrive before the evening?" I asked.

"There better be some lakes around," he said and hung up. Which I know is sort of disrespectful since I am his boss (and a royalty, but whatever), but I found people work better if you don't impose yourself as this scary, authoritative figure with control over their salaries and health insurance. And besides, Lars has been with me through so much he is basically family. And family members sometimes lie for each other. And to each other, but whatever (I remember Grandmere once saying I'd outgrow this word. And yet I keep saying it. And I am planning a wedding. I might not be at my maturity peak yet, but I am mature enough not include any unicorns and Britney song as a wedding march. Why would anyone want to be any more mature than this, I have no idea.)

*Things To Do Before I Say I Do*

1- Get Lars – Done.

2- Get René, Sebastiano + Harry? – Done

3 - Get croquembouche! Find out if there's anyone in this village that makes them! If not, get Michael to pay the head chef of the hotel kitchen to let me make one myself.

4 – Find something white to wear.

5 – Find a spot to get married at (ask Edward? I think he said something about knowing the Alps quite well. But it needs to be somewhere heels-accessible).

6 – Pick a wedding song (write a list of pros and cons of making this decision with Michael. I don't think I trust him with this important task. I mean, he doesn't like Mumford and Sons! Who in their right minds doesn't like M&S? Except for that review of Pop Matters, but he's a troll anyway (even though he used the Obi quote in the review, and no, Michael, these are not double standards))

7 – Find someone with a license to wed people – Done

8 – Check the phone for any potential mini microphone or whatever the NSA and reporters use to spy on people (this is when my preferring NCIS to NCIS: LA comes to bite me in my derriere. The LA one is so much more technological-orientated, they probably had this micro stuff million times.)

9 – Exfoliate.

10 – Watch TV commercials. Swiss TV apparently has promos for My Man Can that are different than the ones we have in Genovia. I have to see clips from which episodes they chose. I hope they didn't use the episode in which René had that large scar over his left eyes as a result of a bet with Harry which of them could climb higher on the northern wall of the Genovian palace after five beers. I know how people are. Everyone would start looking for info on what caused the scar, and that's not the kind of promotion Genovia needs now, just months before our referendum on whether in public toilets, should loose toilet paper hang over or under the roll.

I know it sounds funny, but in the parliament, this caused a debate so heated only the one about parking meters beat. They have this new guy who is kind of like Monk, super worried about bacteria and all, and he read this research that showed hanging the loose end over roll makes it easier to see and grasp, thus it reduces the risk of accidentally brushing the wall with your hand and transferring nasty germs. When she heard the last line, the health minister of course immediately agreed that in case of an epidemic – whether flu or something intestines-related - this could significantly reduce chances of getting infected on a public toilet, sparing Genovia possible millions in health care. Then this other guy who is supposed to be responsible for infrastructure, which of course has nothing to do with health, but was a classmate of Monk's wife (and by some reports in love with her), brought to everyone's attention this other research that said that on the other hand, hanging the paper under the roll makes it look tidier and reduces the risk of pulling too many sheets off. The guy responsible for finance sided with him, saying this could reduce the use of toilet paper, leading to maybe saving a significant amount of money for year, and the health lady said that whatever that number was, it couldn't be as important as preventing the spread of contagious diseases. Then all other ministers chose a side, and for a week they tried to make a decision (even working extra hours).

Then somebody finally suggested a referendum, so that is what we are having soon. The absurdity of the topic has stunned the world and landed us on the front covers of all major newspapers worldwide, and hotels reported a staggering rise in reservations, so at least the tourism minister hopes the crises won't be resolved so soon, as we are this year's hottest tourist destination in Europe.

11 – Figure out what I want to have done with my hair.

To Be Continued.

Broughttoyouby:::winter.