In The Princess Diariesarguably the best teenage film of the 2000s (shut up, I know how that sounds), ugly Anne Hathaway arrives at this fancy house to take princess lessons with her grandmother, Queen Julie Andrews. And we know she is ugly Anne Hathaway at this point in the film because she has frizzy hair and wears glasses. Duh!

Anyway, Hathaway is late, her limbs are too long and by God, she has no time to walk nimbly down the driveway like she does the first time she’s come here. Instead, with heels in hand, she decides to sprint madly across this pristine, green lawn, causing the automated security system to shout at her in a hundred different foreign languages: “KEEP OFF THE GRASS!” 

But instead, she stays on the grass. And runs on.

To my young adolescent mind, this was the height of awkward bravery. This, and two Lindsay Lohans floating their future step-mother into a lake while she’s asleep in her inflatable sleeping bag.


This blog is my ugly Anne Hathaway moment – filled with pretentious poems, long-winded essays, football rants, and amateurish cooking escapades. Even though my run across the grass won’t have Julie Andrews and a Hollywood make-over greeting me at the end of it, I just hope there’s cake.

Lots and lots of cake.



Twitter: @PimKaprao

IG: pim.wangtechawat


One Comment Add yours

  1. Wayland Blue says:

    “This blog is my ugly Anne Hathaway moment.” It’s certainty entertaining, and not necessarily because of morbid fascination at the absurd, which may be a survival mechanism at this point. I would assume there is a correct method to dash across the grass clutching your heals, and it probably involves doing so as if you mean it. You seem to mean it.


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