Archive | February, 2013

Festival Fun

28 Feb


Volunteering at a Church festival is the best way to see people at their finest. Festivals are always fun times. Rides, food, people….people!!! Lets skip right to the people watching. Firstly I must say that as the resident amateur photographer I get the best view of people, at their finest and worst. Let me describe the weather  for you. Constant rain on day one followed by a cold front. A cold front for Floridians means anything under 70 degrees. So anything under 70 degrees means the Uggs come out along with any other kind of boot you can imagine (yes, right down to boots with the fur). So day one of constant rain didn’t stop anyone. Hello wet t-shirt contest!!! Holy Geez Kids put on some clothes!!! And as the lights go down and the adults come in…it doesn’t get much better.

Day two and three equals chilly days. Like 50-60 degree weather, with a breeze. I have never seen so many mottled legs in my life. I’m a nurse, so I’ve seen some mottled legs! And seriously people, I just don’t get the pointy “Come F*ck Me Pumps” in the muddy ground. You would have had to be in Timbuktu the day before to not know that it rained all day. You don’t look cute with that mask of makeup and your skinny 6 inch heel burrowed into the mud! As the sun set and the crowds gathered, the colder it got (like colder…in the Floridian’s mind), the drunker people got the more drunk people kept tapping and drooling on my shoulder (in their “Come F*ck me Boots) and asking me to take their picture. They didn’t even know what I was doing with them, they just wanted me to capture their drool and runny eyeliner. And then there is that teenage couple that’s huddled in the corner and the chick is in her shorts and flip-flops while the guy is profusely rubbing her legs to warm her up. Total waste of energy because I’m sure he’d rather have his tongue down your throat then trying to warm you up. (Damn…should have worn some damn pants and a jacket!!)
By day three the chicks in heels were out in full force. I’m not particularly poking fun. I have an old (but young in age 🙂 ) friend who wore those wedge kind of heels. Not only did she wear them like a boss all day. But she toted two small kids around and never flinched. That, my friends, is amazing and when I grow up I want her body and staying power! It’s those really skinny 6 inch heels that bug the bejesus out of me. Those baby’s just sink into the ground. Which means a waste of a perfectly good pair of Come f*ck me pumps!

The other part of Festival fun for me are the people who absolutely don’t like their pictures taken. The aversion to my photography shirt is so bad that some even drop to the floor to avoid my lens. It’s part of my unpaid duty to take pictures of people having fun, people not having fun, people cooking over a shitload of smelly onions on a grill and yes, even the lovely lady on a first date with the dickwad (Dear spell check, How the hell do you spell dickwad?) staring at other chicks. I like doing it, until I hear the griping of totally hot people who don’t really think they are! Soooo when they drop to the ground I capture the praying people, when they pretend they don’t see me, they look like crack whores , and when they put their hand up I wind up feeling like the paparazzi! But hey, you look how you want to look because it’s my duty!!! 🙂

What does any of this mean? One: Wearing Come fuck me pumps in the rain and mud is never a great idea!. Two: It’s not sexy to wear nothing when its cold. Three: Drunk people, you don’t REALLY want those drunk photos wandering around and you don’t know where they are going…do you? Four: Everyone is beautiful in different ways, be damn proud of it… and for Sally’s sake please just smile!!!!


Thigh Gaps and Such…

15 Feb

So there is a mom that picks her little girl up from school (obviously the same school I pick my daughter up from.  I have to say that she has quite the topic of conversation not only in my mind but also between my husband and me.  For the sake of anonymity, and because I don’t have any clue what this chick’s name is, we will just call her Windy. Yes, I said Windy, not Wendy.  We will call her Windy because when the man upstairs was handing out bodies, he gave this lady the thigh gap of the century.

Now I know what you might be thinking.  You judgmental bitch.  But I’m not being judgmental, maybe just a bit of a gossip. I mean, someone who doesn’t know me from Adam would think that I was jealous, but this is also not the case.  My inner thighs intimately know each other.  They have been making out for as long as I have known them. Although one day I really hope they divorce each other, they are still madly in love despite the fact that I have shaken them up with 5 months of Paleo, kettle bells and running. They may be getting a little nervous…however they are still giving Eskimo kisses.  But Windy’s thigh gap is so impressive that I bet her inner thighs are complete strangers.  When she takes off her pants her inner thighs probably look at each other and are like “Who the hell are you?”

One of the reasons why she is the topic of conversation is because she has an accentuated wide stance when she walks.  Kind of like a cowboy in a quick draw fight.  No, her thighs would not meet even if she walked like a regular Joe Schmo.  And most days she wears her spandex workout clothes to pick her little petunia up.  Now she is thin as a rail and I know for some this is not a blessing.  But this chick kills me.  I want to know how she stays thin like this (blah blah blah with the some people are born with a fast metabolism. Pudgy people don’t give a shit about fast metabolism.  They just want to wake up one morning and be magically thin.).  Windy lives in my neighborhood, and while I “run” around the neighborhood hoping not to chafe or hit someone with my ass flap , I pass this bitch and she leisurely walks around at what seems to be 10 miles an hour.  I know this since my “running”  speed is only maybe 8 miles an hour or so.  I want to walk leisurely and break up my thighs.  I want them to know what its like to catch some air.  I don’t need the wind to whisper through them.  I just want them to be like “Holy shit…I can breathe!!!!” (ok I’m a little jealous). Every set of inner thighs should have goals.  Mine have a goal of just feeling a breath of fresh air.

Whats the point of all of this you ask? No matter what kind of bitch you are, a pudgy pal, skinny rail, or one of you normal bitches; no matter what kind of ITD (inner thigh distance) you have (stuck like glue, occasional accidental touch or “who the hell are you” thighs)…be happy with what you have but always strive for better.  We can all do better…even you normal bitches.