The Festi-Girl

I went to a music festival this weekend.

I enjoyed it.

The only problem was once I walked through the festival gates all I saw was this.

I then realised I had discovered a new species – the festival girl. Also known as the Festi-Girl.

Given their attire and the temperature at this particular festival I can only hope that they will soon become endangered. More on that in a minute.

The festival girl is a young woman (most likely a teen) who attends a music festival in the hopes of ensnaring a partner by wearing little clothing and racing about the place. The fact that the purpose of the very festival is to listen to music is irrelevant. They call to one another in high pitched squeals and often embrace by throwing their arms and legs around the other person and spinning around. For example “SaaaaaarrrrrrrraaaaaAAAHHAHHHHHH!!!” Imagine that the capitalised letters are in a higher tone. And by “higher tone” I mean blood will gently cascade from your ears.

These girls attend music festivals in little packs so as to attract as much attention as possible from moronic young males who can be seen wearing hats with little propellers on them and tight, tight pants. When the two sexes meet they interact with a dialogue consisting of monosyllabic responses punctuated with giggling and hair flicking.

Before their targets have been sucked in they need to prune themselves into an appropriate state of skankiness. This involves each girl in the group choosing a complete outfit which makes them looks like they’ve stumbled out of a forest having been lost for at least three days without shelter.

Let me explain. Starting from the top. The festival girl likes their hair to be long, messed up and often badly dyed. They believe that festivals are a time to reunite with 70s era (not that they are aware as anything that happened less than a year prior is not worth knowing) by wearing a band around their heads which often pulls their raggy hair up in an odd bun. This is to make them seem bigger and more of a threat to other festival girls that may be “snakin’ [their] man”.

Then there’s the make-up. In the words of every great consumer “more is more” and these festival girls certainly provide. Under their layers of foundation, which are only a colour match to the rest of their bodies in the dark, are several million layers of fake tan. This fake tan covers their entire bodies and they feel that looking orange, brown and speckled in most areas is the best way to achieve a state of true beauty.

Now if the messy hair and dirty looking skin doesn’t make you think they’ve emerged from a hedge then just check out their “clothes”. Festival girls prefer to wear clothing that leaves very little to the imagination. After all they have to be quick about their advances to the opposite sex after all any minute they might grow up and be taken seriously. First, I assume there is basic underwear – often their brassieres, which hold nothing but scrunched up tissues and a lot of hoping, are on display for everyone to see. In the world outside the festival it is more appropriate to cover this up but as it is a festival the illusion of covering it up is all that is necessary which is why festival girls where a singlet that looks like it has been through a lawnmower. Next come the shorts. A festival girl must show off as much leg as possible. It is a double bonus if they can get away with their bottoms hanging out the back. Usually they take regular pants and cut them to within an inch of their life, leaving the now exposed pockets to dangle limply against their orange thighs. It is not in a festival girls’ knowledge to check the back of their thighs for cellulite and cover up as festival girls are not designed to look backwards – always forwards. Possibly upwards. Add some oversized lace-up boots and we’re done.

Over the course of the day I noticed every festival girl I saw looked a) exactly like the one before her and b) miserable. I was confused. Why would they attend a music festival – which is meant to be fun – only to look sour? Then I realised. A festival girl’s life is filled with drama. If they have no drama going on then they die. Festival girls live in a state of anger, shame, guilt, confusion and lust. These emotions usually culminate in a series of episodes which they act out during the day such as: cheating on someone, being cheated on, actually speaking your mind, getting insulted, losing your friends in a crowd and being unbelievably unprepared for the weather.

Which leads me to my final point... when you think of a music festival you think of sunny skies, green grass, heat, snow cones and laughter. The music festival I was attending was in a climate where my car was covered in ice by the time I went home. Needless to say that an anorexic pair of shorts wouldn’t cut in this weather. I would look pretty miserable too if I had dressed entirely for the opposite sex and under the pressure of my festival girl group – mostly because I would be cold. I was wearing a snow jacket and ear muffs and I was having a great time! I can only assume since the festival ended at a temperature of -2 degrees that they perished.

One can only hope.     

Eye Yi Yi

I've held this blog in long enough, quite frankly, and now is the time it needs to come out. In full force.
Ladies of the world...

TONE DOWN THE EYE LINER.

Dear god, I see girls gadding about with so much eyeliner on they look like a strange new species of sleep deprived lemur.

It is NOT a good look. I don't understand why they do it.

Is it some sort of defence mechanism? Excessive amounts of eyeliner reduce their visibility so that they look more mysterious when they flick their heads around when in fact they are just trying to get a grasp of their surroundings.

I don't think they use eyeliner pencils - on no - they aren't strong enough. They use roller brushes that would usually be used on houses and dunk them into the most waterproof eyeliner in existence. That or tar. Given the potency and frequency of these coatings they get over a kilo and a half of eyeliner slathered onto their face. They must have the neck muscles of champions keeping their wee heads up so as to keep a well coloured eye out for potential mating partners.

We've all had the scenario where you go to sleep (possibly upside down or under a bed) and haven't had the capacity to remove your eye make up prior. The well known panda look results - but this is different! These girls are guilty of an intentional lemur look.
It reminds me of those old cartoons where one character plays a joke on the other by putting black paint on the rim of the other character's telescope (or whatever circular looking object is nearby) and then the other one gets a big black ring around their eye and looks like a total fool. These total fools are doing it on purpose!

Stop it, ladies! Just stop it! If you do I will rub my eyes in disbelief and not smudge my own eye liner.

Girls These Days...

Why are parents letting their children gad about in mini-skank outfits? Why are they letting their little girls roam the earth looking like real life “Bratz” dolls?

Okay. Parents are in trouble when their kids are lying face down on the floor of the store thrashing their little limbs around, face red with rage screaming for “that pink, glittery boob tube!” Tough times. I get it.

I guess the really sad part is that kids want to dress this way. You know the way I mean. Tiny scraps of plaid fabric that apparently result in a skirt teamed with a tight fitted mid-drift exposing shirt that reads something like “bad girl” or “rock star” (for the sake of our society I hope neither of these statements are true) whilst they totter along in high heel glittery shoes with their overly crimped, teased, combed hair bobbing and adorned with various plastic junky clips and a tiny and pointless handbag containing nothing. 

Whatever happened to gingham dresses? And little sandals with ladybirds and butterflies on them?

I remember as a kid my favourite outfit consisted of a florescent green, yellow and blue striped, faux-angora turtleneck sweater teamed with some khaki corduroy trousers. When I wore these things I thought I looked sophisticated and awesome. Looking back I realise I looked like a total retard. Nonetheless these are lessons we must learn.

I got to high school and realised girls my age were dressing like young women – young adults even (though to me that meant they were wearing jeans and a tee-shirt but you get the idea). My friends had matching accessories and styled hair. I went home found everything in my wardrobe that was red – pants, shirt, shoes and hair clips and gave my hair a vicious brush and went out into the world looking, once again, like a total fool. But I was sure this was what was necessary. The next outing would involve me wearing everything blue or orange and that is what makes you a kid. You are learning. Learning how to dress, what suits you, what styles are best and so on and so forth. The fact is you need to learn this for yourself – not have your favourite celebrity and store jam their style down your throat.

To this day I still look at photos of myself from a couple years prior and shudder at the outfit choices I made but I don’t regret it. I mean my kids need something to laugh at, right?

So as a message to the tweens that roam the shopping centres and are far better styled than I am – wear stuff that’s your age! There’s nothing wrong with dressing your age because, believe me, if you try to dress as a 13 year old later – it will be a big mistake. A huge mutton-dressed-as-lamb mistake.

And for the love of all things holy – take off the push-up bras! There’s nothing to “push-up” so relax! Nature will prevail in its own time.

Baby, does indeed, got back...

Why is it now that whenever I go outside to face the world I have to be confronted by the bouncing bums of chicks my age in tiny, tiny shorts?

I walked through the city and I realised I was absentmindedly staring at the girl-in-front-of-me’s rump hanging out of her shorts. That sounds perverted but I was not staring in a sleazy way... more in a wide-eyed version of repulsion. I thought this might be a one-off. A poor misguided girl who forgot to look at her butt in those pants before setting out on her adventures of the day. But no. There were several of them – gangs of them, herds of them! Each bobbling along with their butt cheeks dangling free.

I can understand shorts. They make sense. It’s hot. They’re short. I get it. But when did shorts become denim underpants? They’re not “shorts” but rather “non-existents”.

Maybe these girls are aware that their backsides are on display but I’m boggled as to why you would want to jiggle your jelly at unsuspecting passer-bys. I mean there are both children and old people in this world who probably don’t want/don’t need to see that. Heck I don’t need to see that.

I wear shorts... we all do at some point but this is just getting ridiculous... I mean we wear high waisted shorts now which kind of looks like regular shorts that have been yanked way up resulting in this bum leakage – but this can be avoided!  I mean I wear high waisted shorts but I am not guilty of this –

And this is what is out there! Everywhere! I went to an RSL club (like a members club where people were expected to cover themselves up in respect for the veterans of WWII but really it’s just a place to get cheap drinks and play the pokies) and I wore a longish dress and covered up my cleavage expecting this to be the norm but OH NO... Yoko OH NO... there was a girl with her bra hanging out of her shirt and her buttocks hanging out of her non-existents... dear me... How can anyone concentrate on their chicken schnitzel when there’s female rump lurking around your ears?

Oh on another note – well following the bum segue... I went out to a cocktail bar with friends the other day wearing high waisted long pants and I walked past all the tables to go to the restroom when I overheard a girl at a booth say “Gee those were nice pants” to which the other girl replied in a loud bogan voice “Yeah but they make her arse look HUGE!” ... that may be so but I didn’t see hear her boyfriend complaining as I waltzed on by...   

Anyway the main point of this blog is – big bums are awesome but KEEP EM COVERED. Ladies, leave something to the imagination! Think of my gag reflex!