On Friday I went to see Ice Princess, a woefully bad movie in which Michelle Trachtenberg, who played Buffy’s little sister Dawn, turns down admission to Harvard to become a figure skater.
The theater was full of ten-year-old girls who should have been in school on a weekday afternoon; their delinquency was clearly sanctioned, however, as they were all accompanied by their mothers.
I sat next to two such girls and their parent. As soon as the opening credits were over, one of the girls announced loudly, “I’m the Ice Princess!”
Her sister objected. “No, I’m the Ice Princess!”
“No, I am!”
“No, me!”
Their beleaguered mother, caught between them, sighed wearily and said, “Girls, you’re both the Ice Princess.” This quieted them for a moment.
“No, I am!” the first one proclaimed.
Clearly I had to take matters into my own hands. I leaned over to them. “Girls, you’re both wrong. I am the Ice Princess.”
That shut them all up.
Oh, God, I wish that story were true. I mean, everything is true up to the point at which I speak. I totally wasn’t brave enough to say that.
Which means I guess that I am probably not the Ice Princess.
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