Basically the only articles The New York Times website recommends for me are pieces about war atrocities and royal weddings.
Which is how I came upon a sweet little item that Albert II, the Prince of Monaco, is to wed Charlene Lynette Wittstock, a former Olympic swimmer from South Africa, this coming Saturday, July 2.
Is it just me, or should someone with the name Charlene be precluded from bearing a royal title?
Charlene is just about the hottest piece of ass to marry a European royal since Grace Kelly, which is fitting, considering that she’s marrying Grace’s son.
The soon-to-be Princess Consort of Monaco was born in Rhodesia, and raised in South Africa.
She’s a professional swimmer with relatively impressive abilities. In 2000, she was on the South African relay team that came in 5th place at the Olympics. In 2008, she failed to qualify for the games in Beijing, which was to be the swansong moment of her professional aquatic career.
Who fucking cares though, she’s about to become the Princess of a country half the size of Central Park!
Charlene met Prince Albert in Montecarlo in 2000, when she visited Monaco for a swimming competition. They started seriously dating in 2006, and officially became engaged last June.
Since then, she has been his companion at royal weddings and public events, including the most recent ceremony of matrimony between Kate Middleton and Prince William, the balding future King of England.
I actually noticed her at the ceremony, because I was like one of these things is not like the others. That is one hot bitch!
Before your heart stops beating from jealousy, let me tell you some things about Prince Albert II, Charlene’s future husband.
Prince Albert looks less like a king, and more like a member of the board of Goldman Sachs. He’s not exactly the type of guy that you’d see, and be like, man, that’s a man who could make me a princess. Most girls I know would look at him, and be like: “That looks like a man with a lofty position at a corporation. I don’t really like my job at my law firm, so sure, why not, I’ll give him a blow job under his desk, and who knows, maybe our affair will lead to marriage? It’s always been my secret dream to rot with three children in a pre-fab mansion in Greenwich, Connecticut.”
I think I crossed the line with the blow job comment. Imma gonna keep it.
Anyway, Prince Albert is not only polished in a Bonfire of the Vanities kind of way, he’s also a complete lothario. Before he got engaged to Charlene, he was known as something of a ladies man in the flight attendant set, impregnating two lowly commoners with illegitimate children. The first, a girl, was named Anne Hathaway. In an attempt to get her father’s attention, she starred in The Princess Diaries, and named herself Mia Grimaldi. Since then, it has been proven that she is a fictional character.
But seriously, his first daughter, who was born in 1992, does in fact bear the following name: Jazmin Grace Grimaldi. Jazmin. I have some thoughts about what her mother looks like now, but I’m not going to write them down.
The positive of being called Princess Jazmin is that you can actually claim that you know Aladdin.
The second baby momma was called Nicole. And she is pictured above.
(If this isn’t the best picture you’ve seen in two weeks, then get me a boob job, and put me on a stripper pole.)
Their son’s name is Alexandre Éric Stéphane Coste. That’s actually a pretty appropriate moniker. The kid is illegitimate, so he’ll never become the Prince of Monaco, but with a name like that, there is a very strong chance that he’ll become a confusingly adept Polo player.
A few other women have claimed paternity claims, including a German topless model, but they have been rejected by the courts.
It is 33-year old Charlene who will, if all goes well, eventually see her children ascend to the throne of the ancient principality.
That might not be quite the same honor as meeting La Vida Jennifer Lopez, but hey, it’s something, right?
The relationship between her and Albert actually seems fairly sweet. He says: “I fell in love with her sense of humor, her simplicity, and the natural way she relates to people. To me, Charlene never looks more beautiful than when she is natural—without makeup and her hair pulled back.”
He also didn’t say: “I especially love it when she wears dresses with embroidered panda bears.”
Charlene says that Albert gets emotional when he watches sports, which actually must be nice for a former Olympic swimmer. If you want to read a predictably saccharine article in Vogue about how lovely and witty and confident she is, and how much Karl Lagerfeld just LOVES her, then feel free to click here.
The reality seems to be, however, that Charlene Wittstock’s fate is life is less fairy tale than it is sordid entrapment. She is marrying a much older man who thinks she’s very beautiful, and would like to breed her, but has no intention of being faithful, or making her his equal. More Princess Diana, say, than Kate Middleton.
I suppose there are worse fates in life than being locked in a gilded palace (literally), with every move scrutinized by the media. I would probably trade places with Charlene. In a heart beat. She is like 1 million times more gorgeous than me. She gets to wear Giorgio Armani at her wedding. Alain Ducasse is doing the catering. There will be fireworks.
But in reality, I’ll probably just end up with that Goldman Sachs guy, if he ever leaves his wife. I kid. Um…
For you, Charlene. For your potential to become a style icon. For not being Kate Middleton, who doesn’t really do it for me, and seems hell-bent on wearing British designers like Sarah Burton, whose taste if oof, the worst. For Frenching up your wardrobe. For being an accomplished athlete.
For your potential to become the Grace Kelly of my generation. For being really involved in the Special Olympics. For you, Charlene, your Serene Highness, you’re my Icon of the Week.