Melbourne Cup – the race that stops the nation. Well, it stops the people that give a shit about the race, but no-one really stops. It’s not like we actually stop, like we are in some strange time warp. Mannequins in weird poses all over Australia.
It didn’t stop my nation. I worked. I wrote about pedophile’s for Kidspot today which was quite traumatic. I’m amazed I didn’t get into the horse race spirit and scull a six pack of VB beer just to wipe it from my mind.
I did however try to find something to wear, which is always tricky when most of my clean clothes are on the floor.
Luckily, I found something suitable for the day. I gave my hair the usual special treatment, same goes for my face. And then when I looked the part I got my photo taken for the social pages. If you count popping off a selfie in the hallway for my blog post “social pages”. Oh, and if you count the “school mum” uniform, of a black top and jeans, “dressing for the occasion” – I mean the nation was going to stop and everything. Apparently. I needed to look my best.
I was looking so hot right now, so I thought it best I went somewhere fitting to mark the occasion and off I went to the local supermarket. When the the big race was on, I was trying to decide between the regular and the extra lean mince, for my fancy meal.
I was shocked to discover that the nation did not in fact stop. You see, I’ve watched it every other year and didn’t notice if anything stopped because I was in fact screaming at the TV “go horse with the pink and blue on it”. And then complaining that I’d lost five bucks.
Anyway, the nation kept going along its merry way. I asked Bigwords’ readers what they were doing – one was whipper-snipping her lawn, another was being rude to the woman in the post office who is always rude to her, one was dancing with her toddler to Shake It Off, lots were picking kids up from school, some were shopping like me, one was stuck in roadworks, one was baking “fugly frittatas”, another was phoning a plumber while her husband hosed sewerage off their driveway, one was studying, one was on the phone to Centrelink (I suspect she still is), one was getting blood taken at the Doctor’s surgery and some were actually watching the race.
Don’t worry though, I did my bit to mark the day. I wore no shoes, like I suspect many women at the end of race day were. But unlike them I’m not staggering around drunk with my skirt hitched up in my g-string. As if I’d wear a g-banger.
Another couple who got into the spirit of the Cup were these two crazy kids who unsurprisingly got engaged at Flemington Racecourse in front of all the TV cameras and photographers.
I’m currently taking bets on how long it will be before they call it off.
So tell me what did you get up to when the race was on today?
PS: Nothing died writing this blog post. Unlike the two horses at the Cup today. Happy days huh?