Before entering on the best vacation of my life (literally the day before I had two days of waking up early, and ear popping plane rides) I went to Student Race Day for Canberra University with the girls. I got ready that morning thinking I’d probably overdressed since my fascinator (I just kept calling it a pseudo-hat until Emma – races Extraordinaire – told me the real name, which I still can’t spell…or it’s a fake word) was pretty huge (about the size of my actual head) and I had a full lace get up on and probably too much jewelry. The jewelry though was key because as I was getting dressed I couldn’t help think about all the Red Hat club, old women that for sure go to race day and cover themselves with huge balls of red and purple. So my small, seashell pink balls, would be fine on my lace get-up.
However, I get to Renee’s and they’re both pretty dressed up too. Emma Extraordinaire had made both of their fascinators and I figured they were ready to win fashions on the field (the Myer fashion competition with lots of cash prizes). We tried being classy in the room drinking champagne with strawberries hooked on the side. I was drinking mine out of an old school glass coke bottle because we ran out of champagne glasses. Also, with this bottle (and champagne glasses I might add) adding a strawberry to the side makes it really hard to actually drink the champagne. My strawberry was poking me in the eye, and the same with the girls and so now I’ve been sitting here wondering how women maneuver around the strawberry at fancy dinner parties. I wonder if you’re taught the art of holding the glass so your face doesn’t touch the strawberry and you aren’t marked with a little more blush around the eyebrow area. These are all questions I need answered by some sort of debutante, Derby Queen or a girl who went to finishing school (which I am definitely none of the above, you will see this by the way I shovel a hot dog into my mouth in the following pictures).
So, we were ready. We convinced Tommy to drive us over to the stadium, got a few drinks and checked out the fashions. Because what more is a horse race then a day where women can, with full up-down eyeing, size each other up. I think the real purpose of horse racing was to get girls dressed up and for them to get in small groups with one another and talk about the shoes, or the pearls, or the too-short dresses. (At races girls are supposed to wear past the knee dresses, gloves and hats, and full coverage on their shoulders). I’m pretty sure I had none of these covered, minus my large fascinator (which wasn’t even a hat) and so I was out of the competition, but that didn’t stop Emma from convincing Renee to strut her stuff on the catwalk (on the catwalk. Needed the Echo for song purposes, Renee didn’t lose any clothes though, Oh, neither did Emma).
Race day for me consisted of drinking everything but Whiskey, Vodka and Tequila (I covered champagne, wine, and Aussie beer intake), but that didn’t make me the panties showing bust-ya-face girl. I did have a really, unbelievable short dress on because where can you wear that kind of thing other then in a totally different country surrounded by girls, and so it was really hard to sit at times behind the fence and watch the horses go by. I may have shown a few people my underwear, which had bubble gum machines all over it so I felt like it was an acceptable thing to show off.
I also ate TWO count them TWO (yes mother, my food groups are branching out) sausage and onion sandwiches. The man who sold them to us, I’m pretty sure saw us get progressively more intoxicated, which is funny because I didn’t feel the alcohol at all while we were there. The first sandwich (and I’m always a bit shy when talking to new people, I almost always respond to anything they say with “good, how are you,” C has taught me this is my automatic response greeting) I was nice to the guy and he was nice to us, helping us with the ketchup and all. The next sandwich, I’m over here giggling about what Renee said (probably about underwear and getting up and eating burritos later, aka the signature of class) and talking to him about whatever. It’s okay though because drunk girls were dancing over to the side of us and falling over onto/around/into trash cans located around the self-proclaimed dance floor and we weren’t nearly that bad. Plus, there was no walk of shame since we both successfully maneuvered our heels through the parking lot and into a car. No falling this time, gravity…gotcha b.
But I guess the most important part of Race Day (other then photos) was the horses. Horses, did you know, REALLY sweat when they are running and come back drenched in yuck. So, I didn’t pet any. And neither did Emma with her dainty gloved hands or Renee. Horses are also majestic and beautiful and absolutely terrifying. They’re huge, and look like they’re on steroids with all their bulging horse muscles and horse veins and I think the most important part of their terrifying nature is that they look you dead in the eye when you talk to them. Not many people have conversations when they look you in the eye so to see a horse do it can be quite unnerving (but in a good way). I think this is where horses draw their strength, by looking people in the eye they really show their lack of fear towards humans and show their own humanity. And I may finally understand why horse girls are SO into their horses. I mean come on, I always thought they were just weird for always talking about riding, and petting, and watering, and riding some more, but they really love these animals. So, horsey girls, I no longer find you weird, and I really respect you because I could never play with a creature that much more muscular than me all day.
The other important thing was the giant bulb that you will see in pictures following this blog post. The Giant Bulb was hung over, did not want to take a photo (aka thought he was too good for us commoners in our short, lace dresses) and since he won the second season of Australia Project Runway (which I’m missing this week along with Glee and Modern Family BOOOOOOOO) he had better things to do like judge a fashion competition then to excite the hearts of three pretty girls. Plus he had heels on and I was still taller than him, so that’s saying something. His hat wasn’t even the coolest one, the fan girls hat was and she had her hair in a way I figured Yoko Ono often wore her hair so I enjoyed her. He had just glued a bulb to his head, instead of using his dim-wit to just fly into the light, with winged heels (I’m not usually mean on my blog, but I hate when fame goes to people’s head. So I will therefore be calling him, Buzz Lightyear for the remainder of what I say about him…which isn’t much I’m pretty much done).
I guess it’s time for a race day photo montage (Que The Sweetest Thing music):
This is my obtruse, netted, jeweled and feathered hat. That I'm in love with and bought on a complete whim. I will now be fashioing these around NC.
The Bulb, blocking everyone elses light and his friend, Yoko Ono (minus a few Beatles)
More smiles and hat shots. Sally looks adorable in this picture.
The ladies struttin' around for fashion on the field, Renee actually looks excited for this one. Love it
The Ron Burgandy class of cheap champagne and sausage and onion sandwiches, wonderful & fillingAnd of course the ACTUAL horse racing, the whole point of this day.
And that’s it folks.