How about some head?

Saturday my friends and I went to the races. Caulfield Cup Day. We sat on picnic blankets in the sun and drank Champagne, perved, bitched about people's outfits (particularly the Supre Specials) and even managed to win some $$$ throughout the day.

All in all we had an awesome time. It seems to be such an open and friendly atmosphere. People talk to you and compliment you on your outfit and you make temporary friends and jump up and down and scream as the actual races thunder on in the background. Ok, so the feeling of friendship and the flirting is most definitely alcohol fuelled but it is all in harmless fun and makes you appreciate how lucky we are to live in a place where a days like this happen.

Personally, I am always up for an excuse to get tarted up and hang with the girls, getting tipsy in the middle of the day and wondering around chatting to random people in the drunken fuzzy warmth and huge open air meatmarket that such an event provides.

Of course, the drunker you get, the sillier you become. K&K bought a bag of Freddo 'Heads' as snacks but mainly for the entertainment value. My friend N took very little convincing indeed to cut into the gargantuan line for the bar by approaching some random guy with the bag and saying 'so, how would you feel about some head?'. It worked. We had two bottles of champers and were back on our blanket within ten minutes, laughing at the gormless fools who queued legitimately in the line that snaked through the stadium and outside. It took N's friends about 40 minutes to return with a few cans of beer while we polished off the fist bottle and lent over the railings to take close ups of tanlines, spats, VPL's and other fashion faux pas passing us by.

As the day wore on our behaviour degenerated into giving false names to guys, ripping ties of another guy and 'teaching him how to do it properly' (it ended up around his forehead Rambo style), writing 'slut' and 'whore' on ourselves with make-up and flashing it at people (ok, that was mainly me) and of course the obligatory food fights. Nobbys Nuts and half chewed strawberries make surprisingly aerodynamic missiles.

By the end of the day, in varying degrees, we sported sunburn, make-up tattoos, blisters from ridiculous but 'hot' shoes and a severe case of the giggles. Thankfully K&K's Dad collected us from the races and ferried us back to their place to sober up, tidy up and review some hilarious photos of the days debauchery!