Royal Ascot

Royal Ascot Maaaaaan!!!!

2008 in the house!


That's right bitches, check it out. Royal Enclosure.

Of course.
I've now been a member for 5 years and I can propose other people to be members but you gotta have the credentials, innit. So if you think you got what it takes to rub shoulders with high society, let me know and I might consider it...


So anyways, yesterday was my annual appearance at Ladies Day @ Royal Ascot. I look forward to this event every year, its an exciting time and I like chillaxing with my mother and step-father all day. Plus I like to bet on horses. I'm not much of a gambler, so it's my one time to go mental maaan. I rarely win, and if I do, I usually lose my winnings on the following race. As such I tend to leave with less money than I started; breaking even is the best it gets for me. Man, if I was in an indie film, that sentence would be a metaphor for my ENTIRE LIFE.

After the parking fiasco of last year, along with the rather damp weather, this year was a great success. Unfortunately, I have no photos of the lovely picnic we had beforehand, I guess I was too busy eating. Suffice to say it was delish. Crawfish, shrimp, chicken, sausages, salads etc. all with the obligatory champagne drunk from goblets made of solid sterling silver and lined with gold. Seriously. We actually bring them for the sole reason that they can fall on the ground 80 times and they'll never break. And also cos it sounds cool to say your drinking from a goblet made of silver and lined in gold. We know what we're doing.
So it was a stunning day weather wise:



And behold the winning ticket of the first race of the day! I won!

If you look at the name of the horse, you should get a reason as to why I chose this particular runner. It happened to be the favorite, but this made little difference...
You'll also see that I bet with a nominal amount of money. This is because my system of choosing horsies based on their name/color of jockey's jersey/country of origin etc is not exactly foolproof. In fact I believe this was my only real win of the day and as a result by the last race I was betting like £2.50 each way. Tough times.



But the real fun of Ascot is of course checking out what everyone else is wearing. Most of the time, it was too crowded for me to get a good shot (especially as the real shockers aren't in the Royal Enclosure but with the ordinary hoi-polloi Ascot-goers and its super packed round their end) but I got a few shots. Some super, some super questionable:



There was a lot of this matching business, which I'm all for. In fact Ascot is the one time of year where I do match my outfit. But though you can't quite tell on this photo (and it's shit quality as I had to zoom and crop from the original) the green bag this lady is holding is made of some synthetic fur-type material. Furthermore, she added some of this to the horrible puke-colored hat as well. She really went to town on looking disgusting. Plus, the undeniable dullness of the rest of her outfit only enhances the putridness of the hat/bag combo.
PS - the pig-faced lady on the right was wearing a mixture of two hats it seemed, neither of which worked; but with a face like hers, I felt it cruel to tear her down further. She has enough to deal with...




I love this hat. I love this type of hat in general really. See the white hat in the foreground? And the turquoise number in the background? These are the kind of hats I detest. SO boring. SO dull. It's ladies day for christ sake! Go crazy a little! Have fun! This pink beauty is just the right kind; if you look closely you'll see the black wire actually forms a skeleton-shape of a top hat. Impractical, obtrusive and useless outside of this event. Perfect choice!



(sorry for the lack of focus...)
This is the third year running I've seen this woman at Ascot in this hat. She looks about 64 or so, and I would guess she's been wearing this outfit/hat combo for decades. The suit is a classic cut and she's kept her shape, so why not? And the (amazing) hat is not wacky in a trendy way, so it stands out in a timeless fashion. She's wonderful and I hope to see her again next year. (ETA: I've just found out she's "Mrs. Edward Claridge". I still have no idea who this is.) There's also this Oriental woman who's tiny and wears the most extravagant outfits every year but I totally missed her this year! Either she was a no-show (doubtful) or I was just unlucky (obvs).



Great matching butterfly hats. I was impressed. Plus - as well as matching the fabric of their outfits to that of their hats, the men they're with have corresponding matching bands of fabric on their top hats. A well thought out fashion plan...




OMG you guyzz, I so did not know that that the lovechild of ZZ Topp and Axl Rose was a member of the Royal Enclosure! Lolz!

Gotta say, both the Queen and Anne looked pretty dullerific if you ask me...Where's Prince Harry to jazz things up when you need him?




Homegirl wasn't giving me no love...



OMG you guyzz, I so had no idea the wicked witch of the west was a member of the Royal Family!! Lolz!


But for reals, the best part of being a member of the Royal Enclosure, as I keep banging on about, is the space:



On the left is the Royal Enclosure area, on the right is for all the ordinary civilian folks. We got it goood.

And finally my mother reveals the secret to lasting comfort when you're spending an entire day on your feet on hard surfaces:



Clear Jellies. The way forward for stylish comfort...

And that's all she wrote! Oh and by the way, I looked elegant and ladylike, the one time per year I do this. Matching handbag and all!:



Yet for some reason, I was making THAT face. I have no idea why. Still, you get the idea. Check out the horserace on TV right behind me. I'm so in the action!


This entry is dedicated to my book club friends who were at our monthly meeting on Wednesday. We know how rock a literary par-tay. I couldn't a pic of the whole entire group, but you get the idea. Even if dude on the end looks pissed...



Shy-making!

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Highlight of My Life more like

This is the elevator at my work. I'd say on average I probably ride this elevator at least 6 times a day. Well, I ride one of 16 elevators identical to this one, that is. In any case, whenever I'm elevating and there are other people elevating with me, I run through a little self-entertaining routine. I imagine what would happen were the world to end and civilization as we know it was destroyed; yet through some freak stroke of "luck", only those of us in the elevator survived. This would naturally mean that we were responsible for the procreation of the entire human race. Of course the impossibility of how we would come to know we were the only people left on the planet being that we're stuck in a metal box is painfully obvious, but I ask you to ignore this blatant conundrum, and stick with me.
So presuming we're now responsible for breeding, I mentally check out everyone in the lift and work out who would fornicate first and with whom. Presumably age would be a major factor so any woman over 55 is out of the equation, and those over even the youthful 40 are probably low on the list what with their chances of getting a bun in the oven so drastically reduced. Same goes for men - while I know that even an 80 yr-old codger can still get his freak on, we're re-starting the human race here, we need Michael Phelps-like swimmers, so the youngest guy(s) would take the reins. Once the old fogies are weeded out, it would of course come down to aesthetics. More often than not, I am the hottest (or only) girl in the lift. This means I would then be forced to screw one of, if not all, the men in the lift. And in my mind, these world-saving sex-sessions would all takes place within this elevator, so we would have go at it in front of everyone else. Bear in mind this elevator can hold 23 people. That's a lot of doggers.

So I start rating the guys in our little civilization-starters group; who I would go for first, who would be my last choice, what they'd be like in bed (or, to be more accurate, what they'd be like on floor) etc. If there are other girls I wonder if they would be chosen first over my beautiful self. I then further wonder if I would be mostly hurt by this decision, being that's it's an insult to my looks, or if I would be mostly relieved that I didn't have to perform life's most intimate of acts with an audience of journalists and media types who work for lad mags and fashion bibles. Usually I come to the ridiculous conclusion that the former is true - I would actually rather be forced to screw a total stranger, in front of several other people and in a small confined space, than have my looks/virility in any way derided. Even in times of world crisis, my arrogance never ceases to amaze.
I also start wondering about the moment when we would all have to undress, the giggling, the awkwardness, the guy maybe not being able to "perform" under such pressure and scrutiny. Would I eventually condition myself to successfully reach orgasm despite the people staring? Would this eventually become the only way I could climax? Would the rest of the folks politely turn their backs on us while we screwed? If so, how long would this consideration last? Who would start taking a look-see first? Would the guys not being asked to take part, start jerking off at the sight of the free porn in front of them? Would the entire scenario turn into a bukake fest? And so on and so on.
This entire process takes about 30-90 seconds to complete, which is usually the length of the elevator journey itself. Sometimes if we stop on several floors, it can get mind-blowing. Last week I found myself in a cramped elevator with 13 young bucks all from various men's magazines. Not one was under 35. They were all of average looks. I had a near impossible time putting them in sexual order. I resorted to taking fashion markers and the amount of hair product used into consideration. It was such an agonizing process, I almost felt like telling the guy I eventually chose, "Hey man, you won! I'd defs nail you first over these other guys if the future of the human race depended on it! Well, unless your friend there changed his clothes and buffed up a bit...".
This mental exercise is the highlight of my day. I look forward to it with excitement and it's a fantastic way to pass the time and jazz up an otherwise mundane, yet necessary, daily journey. You can try it on public transport as well! It gets tough on crowded tube carriages, but one time I found myself on the central line with what looked like two all-male indie bands and suddenly the idea of armageddon was getting me wet. And if you can get horny thinking about the end of the world, you can conquer anything!

In other news:

I broke the belt loop on my leather belt. This has never happened to me before but I was pleasantly surprised to find out it was only stapled in to begin with. I think this will be one bit of "sewing" I can deal with!

I've been a lot more social lately. Hanging out with friends, eating bagels, watching my friends rock out with their cocks out:

(and taking unfocused pictures of them in which you can't even see their faces.)


Going to costume/karaoke parties as Robert Smith in an odd pairing with Slash:

And yes, beneath that over-sized white top I had the obligatory black leggings and white high-tops. One of the most simple yet effective costumes ever. And ladies, there is nothing as liberating as smearing one's eyeliner and lipstick on. Literally took me about 90 seconds to "put my face on". If only I was an overweight goth, make-up could be this easy every day.

And finally, this is for my best friend Katie and her new blogspot (katiecoleslaw.blogspot.com):

The most tanned girl I know.

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