An Ascot woman is questioning her life choices after being cajoled, once again, into standing in front of a soulless and ugly AF fake flower wall to have her photo taken at a recent mother’s day function.
“No amount of halo lighting is lighting up the vacancy behind my eyes,” she said. “I’m unsure how I keep ending up here.”
Once the domain of spring carnival race meets and Anne Geddes calendars only, the plastic flower wall superseded the balloon arch about a two decades ago as the photographic backdrop of choice at any event with the word women, ladies or mother in it. Also, “let’s make it pink” said every event co-ordinator because it’s a function for women.
Meanwhile, event photographers are desperately trying to keep the fun alive. When asked about the appeal of the nylon flower wall, one photographer noted that middle aged women just love posing for forced photos with unnatural backdrops while half-cut on Yellow. The resulting images are just glorious.
You may even like to purchase the digital file for $67.50 and have it turned into coasters as a gift says the photographer, who is not from this planet. Or, simply buy the image and keep it buried in your icloud account until the end of Apple.
When probed, does the Ascot woman have advice for upcoming attendees of mother’s day or ladies day functions to make the flower wall any more palatable?
It’s the first week of school in Ascot and traditionally, the busiest day for social media posts of the year. And emotions are running high if emoji count and word play are anything to go by.
Instagram and Facebook have been flooded with sweet first day pics from parents, who are captioning with some mighty cryptic shit as they grapple with their rollercoaster feelings. You may like to check on your mates this next week or two and book an icebath if anyone needs to chill the fuck down.
Emotions are running high according to the emoji count on posts
For the one or two laggers who haven’t posted yet because it maybe all too much, you have 24 hours before it’s last weeks’ news. Why not look to some of these example posts from the 4007 front line socials (shared with permission) this past week for inspiration?
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@oatlattelady 🤩🥳😍 🫨 🙃 And they’re off! Millie’s last first day, Charlie’s third last first day, Tilly’s fifth last first day and lastly, the twins’ first last second last first day. #fivekidsallinprivateschool #poweredbyoatlatte ☕️
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@ladywindermere 🥹😭😭 😱😥👶➡️ 👧🏼 Feeling sad but happy I think! This will be my last first time drop off for my first born’s first day. #prepmum#stopgrowingup #mybaby#endofanera #startofanera#eras
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@powermum 😱😱😱 🤯🤯🤯 Can’t believe it’s our last’s first day, our second’s third first day and our third born bracing the sixth last first day. #mumlife #howhasthishappened#feelingold #butblessed #bringonschoolholidays
Posting should subside next week as we officially move to week two of the school year and anxiety levels calm across the suburb to make way for gin cocktails at tennis.
Ascot to learn lessons from the overfilled, underparked lifestyle ghetto in upcoming pre Olympic suburban beautification.
Input is being sought from local residents on how we can give our fair suburb a classy and considered facelift, in plenty of time for the 2032 Olympics when the eyes of the world will be mainly upon 4007. There is no shame in applying some aesthetic ‘tweakments’ to an aging yet classic beauty like Ascot, but any idiot knows restraint is key.
“We want to look refreshed, modern and scarless, leaving the rest of Brisbane wondering how the hell we look so good at our age,” says Charlotte Mayfield-Street, chair of the Aesthetics for Ascot movement. We’re also seeing what a slippery slope can look like just a few suburbs over.”
Dubbed the Newstead effect, it’s what happens when a little suburban cosmetic refresh goes way too far.
“Newstead was a cute experiment in urban renewal that for a while, seemed to be going quite well. But now I think we can all agree it’s gone and had too much work done, which means the place looks pretty good in photos, but in real life it’s kinda overfilled and ugly.”
A recent photo of Newstead. There is apparently plenty of space for a few more high rises, according to developers.
In the name of unbiased journalism, the Ascot Observer headed to Newstead to interview a few residents on what they liked about living in one of the 180,000 units in the suburb. Spirits remain high despite the shit show they find themselves in.
“I like that I can watch 12 different TVs of my neighbours in the apartment tower just a few feet across, right from my living room. If I’m lucky, I’ll be watching Netflix, Stan, Apple TV, Amazon Prime and live TV at the same time in any one evening. That’s saving me a fortune in streaming services.”
“I take my Buddha bowls into the Himalayan Salt room at Total Fusion. I can cleanse my aura and season my food at the same time. It’s saving me a fortune in trips to the Himalayan Salt fields, which I think are out past Ipswich.”
“Our French bulldog Jean-Paul has finally found his tribe at his new doggy daycare. I don’t think it would be good for his mental health if we moved now.”
“Total Fusion altitude room has really helped with my random nose bleeds since I moved to the 42nd floor of my Newstead apartment building.”
“The closer to Total Fusion, the closer to God.”
Next steps for Ascot residents are to join the consultation process about how to turn Racecourse Rd into a superior version of James St, with at least one Calile hotel, minus the plastic gangsters that have overrun the joint. We will position the pool away from the restaurant as well, so we don’t have the rejects of Love Island Australia’s meat flaps in our face while trying to digest our salad.
When the Observer quizzed a developer for comment on living in Newstead, he had this to say. “Oh no, ..I just do developments there. I actually live in Ascot.”
Is menopause a valid reason for behaving like a completely unhinged bitch? Yes it is, according to the Gen X female cohort in 4007, currently navigating their midlife hormonal changes. And in other news, anyone that says otherwise can fuck off and die.
In this special report, The Ascot Observer can reveal that previously straight up, normal high maintenance bitches are now reporting their inner monologue has more personalities than Sybil. Just don’t actually point that out to her.
And this from the front line. “It’s the mood wheel of fortune,” states one wary husband, who wishes to remain anonymous because his life depends on it. “I don’t know which persona I’m going to wake up next to.” Our exclusive sources can reveal she’s not that sure who she’ll be either.
A slogan for the times….
In the interests of public safety, The Observer has decided to unpack a few of the more common personalities for hapless bystanders and general idiots. Any or all of these female perps are currently active and roaming the suburb, so be alert and probably alarmed. And, for all the mid-life women out there still meeting their new inner girl gang, here’s a short introduction.
Irritable Ingrid – Listening to your husband’s nightly sound sleeping is inciting deep rage within you. When he is not sleep-gloating, he’s wide awake and blinking too fucking loudly.
‘For Fuck Sake’ Fran – This emoji is on high rotation in your head 😑😑😑. You’ve been asked by some woke barista to declare your pronoun, your lawnmower man has ghosted you, you go to the gym 800 times a year and yet your body is resembling a melted ice cream. The Greens. Seriously, you have no time for any of this bullshit.
Indecisive Irene – The Finish dish tabs are 37c a unit – but they don’t have the powerball. The powerball plus booster is 48c a unit but they only sold in bags of 15 and you’re gonna go through that in like a week. If you get the bag of 80 tabs, they’re a bargain at 32 cents a unit – but the bag is going to take up too much room in your trolley. Maybe you should just get Fairy and downgrade your expectations of what clean dishes should look like. They’re only 17 cents a unit. Does anyone in the house even notice if the plates are clean? *inner voice cuts in* …..GET A FUCKING GRIP WOMAN. YOU USED TO MANAGE MULTI MILLION DOLLAR COMPANY BUDGETS… *sigh* Eeenie Meenie Minee Moe *grabs most expensive dish tabs*. Now on to aisle 7 to repeat this with tinned tomatoes.
Forgetful Fiona – Seeking a million lumen flashlight to cut through the fog in your mind. It’s fucking dark in there. You can’t find a word to save your life. You don’t even remember why you’re in there in the first place. There’s your half finished cup of coffee from Wednesday last week.
Weepy Winifred – The phrase ‘how are you?’ is apparently your new trigger. You’re like a dam made out of crepe paper. Other triggers include; someone holding your eye contact for more than two seconds, watching a returned-soldier-meets-long-lost-dog video, being teased by your teenager because you can’t convert your pdf into word without the formatting fucking up. Come armed with Kleenex, or don’t come at all.
Insomniac Isabel – It’s 2.15am and that can only mean one thing…a deep dive on every dumb-arse thing you’ve ever done in your life for the 300th night in a row with the same net result of no progress on anything at all. After giving yourself a proper grilling, you fall into a deep sleep at 4.59 am. Alarm goes off 60 seconds later for another 18 hour day.
Anxious Annie – Getting busy putting the ‘zing’ in catastrophising.
Sweaty Betty – Your sudden urge to get nude is not for the same reason you used to want to get nude. Like,…not.at.all.
Drill-down Diana– Yes, there is a clear difference between the 17 different white paint chips you have just shown your husband. If you screw this choice up, you might as well set your house on fire now. No-one will ever want to buy it. Also, the lemons he bought are ugly and they are ruining the look of your fruit bowl.
The Ascot Observer will continue to monitor the situation. Advice for loved ones, colleagues and friends of mid-life women in the suburb is as clear as mud. Tune in or maybe tune out, cuddle her or stay the hell away, shut up or say something. And please watch the volume of your chewing.
Finally, the meno-women of 4007 have this parting message for well-meaning baristas. “We couldn’t give a fuck what pronoun you call us, how about you just focus on making sure my oat flat white is hot, FFS.”
The St Margaret’s unsynchronised swimming team made a stellar debut performance on Friday morning at the new aquatic and sports centre, after a particularly stirring graduation speech encouraged the girls to ‘push the boundaries and go out and create a little trouble!’
The routine, choreographed in the interpretive ‘free movement’ style showcased some of the best bombs, manus and pencil dives seen in an unsynchronised team of this size.
From the outset, the degree of difficulty was particularly high, with team members first having to outsmart the Alcatraz style security system and scale the six foot pool fence dressed head to ankle in starched navy blue gabardine. Indeed, once that gabardine gets wet, it weighs approximately 38 kilos.
Kicking off with a single, near perfect bomb by the team leader (9.95 from the judges), the graduated entry of all athletes to the pool was choreographed to look completely random. Hours, even years of practice in the pools, creeks and dams of Brisbane and further afield have not been wasted, with the performance drawing oohs and ahs from the thousand strong crowd.
Some incredible moves by the team were on display. The co-ordinated, triple team entry move …including the technically difficult ‘pancake’ and the skirthold knee tuck.
There were, however, some moments of concern for the judges, when loud shrieking and wailing could be heard during the performance. No points were lost once it was established the shrieks were coming from the school’s administration building – not the swimmers themselves.
The St Margaret’s executive leadership were so impressed by the performance, they sent the team home, enabling them to hit the vodka cruisers at little lunch, a full five hours earlier than planned.
Congratulations girls!! You are superstars. All of the normal people are so proud of you.
‘‘Fuck”, said one local, “let’s hope the South African strain does the job.”
Cafe 63, the highly successful cafe chain that began in Ascot as a radical social experiment in cheap, has remained open and irritatingly COVID-immune, effectively proving that some things are harder to get rid of than the herpes simplex virus.
“FFS, just when you think you’ve finally got rid of one, another one randomly pops up,” said a baffled local, who would prefer to remain anonymous.
Featuring a menu of eggs 1200 ways, the cafe is a haven for people wanting to sit on uncomfortable furniture and share their dining experience with countless toddlers and multiple dogs.
Hopes were raised when, at the outbreak of the pandemic in March last year, there was a 50% reduction in the number of Cafe 63’s in Racecourse Rd, down from two to one. However, in a Phoenix-like resurrection, ‘63 MKII’ has reappeared, in a new and more optical location.
Built on the back of the Bain-marie and paying foreign students in Monopoly money, admitting to enjoy eating at the cafe chain has become somewhat of a bbq stopper among the 4007 set. Indeed, the Observer understands that friendships in the suburb are being quietly questioned, as ‘radicals’ admit to loving 63 openly at gatherings and in public places.
“They’re just not the people I thought they were…” said one normal local after ‘close friends’ came out.
Defying the COVID kiss of death, the recently re-opened Cafe 63 has debuted some new menu items.
In the interests of quality investigative journalism, the Ascot Observer went undercover to scope the updated menu, and found the following additions.
-The AnnastaciaPalaszczuk: Order it and eat it without leaving your table – otherwise you won’t be allowed back into the cafe for 14 days. *Bonus: you get it for free if you can spell it.
-The Clive Palmer: Get your name on the Cafe 63 wall if you can finish the CLIVE. All the food in the cafe, on one plate and not shared with anyone.
-The Karl Stefanovic: Taken off the menu for being too unsavoury last year, the KS has returned and is proving popular despite being as tasteless as the first time around.
-The Pauline Hansen: white food only. No foreign unpronounceables.
-The Sco-Mo: What you’ll actually get if you order the Malcolm Turnbull.
-The Malcolm Turnbull: Looks promising, but basically all style and no substance.
In a positive move, management are permanently removing the Anthony Seibold. It was an experiment that went horribly wrong, and has left more than a few patrons with a bad taste in their mouths.
“We needed something that we ALL had in our cupboards” said Professor Bartleys Hill.
BREAKING>>>>>>>>>>>>
Brisbane Grammar P and C president, Professor Frederick Bartley’s-Hill MD, PhD, MB BS, FRANZCO, AO, OAM, R.A.C.Q has decreed that BGS and BGGS parents can now wear the Qantas PJs to support their kids at all GPS and QGSSA events.
The official supporter kit can be customised
In a move that’s been described as ‘inclusive and sustainable’, Professor Bartleys Hill had the following statement.
“The school has been trying hard to lessen the financial burden on parents by relaxing the supporter dress code. We looked for an item of clothing that we ALL have in our cupboards. Qantas PJs were the obvious choice.”
Since the announcement, mums of Grammar are elevating the look by pairing their Qantas PJ top with a pair of skinny leather pants, or some other $400 pair of jeans, but dressing it down with a pair of $800 sneakers. Meanwhile, the Dads can pop a black puffer vest straight over the top, with a baseball cap and discuss with the other BGS dads the glory days of never winning anything. Ever.
And pockets aren’t just for the kids.
“We’ve done Aspen 2015-2019. That’s worth recognising,” said BGS parent James Oriel the third.
Meanwhile, Qantas are said to be considering a change of corporate colours, away from red and white, to be a ‘little more Grammar’.
Noosa is enjoying its first few weeks of the school holidays with thankfully, no new cases of Victorians.
For the first time in living memory, more Ascot residents than Victorians are present in the holiday Mecca, much to the smug satisfaction of basically, the rest of Australia.
Tired of not being able to swing a Fendi without hitting a Victorian, Ascot refugees are visibly relieved with the sudden availability of reservations at Bistro C, and the fact they’re not sitting next to 1000 Bec Judd wannabes on the beach with kids named Rafferty and Clementine.
The Judd kids getting their UV therapy after their Noosa vay-cay was cancelled due to Coronavirus
‘We need Victorians in Noosa, like we need a Sherrin footy on main beach to the side of the head,’ one Ascot resident was overheard saying. ‘They can take their special brand of bogan and stay the hell in Brighton.’
And, visible eyerolling is a thing of the past for the baristas of Noosa, who no longer have 300 000 piccolo coffees to make in the next two weeks, and can go back to churning out skinny almond chai lattes for all the normal people.
Meanwhile, the Negroni can also be moved to the storage room, mainly because it tastes like shit.
‘We’re still drinking Aperol spritz up here,’ said one Ascot resident. That’s why we’re happier than you.’
Behavioural experts around the world are studying Ascot residents to understand how normal upper-middle class people are coping with the COVID-19 restrictions. With strict social distancing measures in place, the research has been collated by examining the social media accounts from across the suburb. With so much oversharing from the front line, some strong trends are emerging. The first release of the data, including example types are now exclusively available to the Ascot Observer.
The home schooling expert
In a strange twist of fate, mothers in the suburb are finally able to show teachers and other parents ‘how to actually school’ after complaining about useless teachers, tuckshop food and classroom facilities since the beginning of time.Stay tuned for the next round of posts showcasing their lesson plans and their redesign of the Queensland school curriculum.
The ‘fam bam’ insta poster
When they’re not sitting around the fireplace singing kum ba yah, they’re making tic-tocs, laughing uncontrollably, or taking the piss out of poor old dad.
The ‘one virus…so many houses’ people
They don’t want to live in this fucking backwater full time, but it doesn’t stop them from deep breathing in all that fresh air and posting about it 24/7. They end most of their posts with the ever-irritating “Stay safe.” The DIY dream team
She’s channelling her anxiety into aggressive baking, home improvement or craft. She’s also got her man headed to Bunnings every other day in the attempt to turn him into the handyman/garden lackey of her dreams. Stay tuned for her next project that involves whittling a new set of balustrading for the front verandah from one piece of timber.The doomsday prepper
Armed with a Thermomix, and the entire Tupperware range, it’s finally her time to shine.She’s meal prepped the next 12 months of food, and is now posting about how catering for lockdown is fun yet practical. This person is a strange hybrid of the optimist and the pessimist. One thing is for certain, we’re hoping she’s our neighbour if this shit goes on much longer.
The redundant fashion influencer
The voice inside her head is getting louder. It’s saying… “you have no skills.” When her whole existence is built on dressing up and going out to be fabulous, the term ‘non-essential worker’ is currently sounding off like an internal air raid siren. So what can she do during isolation to retain some relevance as a fashion influencer in this new age of austerity? Well, she can dress up as her lounge of course and post about it to relieve her anxiety about her outright lack of talent.
The Observer understands this study will continue indefinitely. “Social media is an important outlet for the upper middle class to express their unresolved social anxieties, ” head researcher Dr Pennefather said. “We’re now anticipating a decline in selfie behaviour, as botox begins to wear off across the board.”
More to come.
We’d like to take this opportunity to outline our response to the COVID-19 outbreak and the measures we are taking as a community to protect ourselves from you. Be assured, our residents health, safety and aesthetic needs are our utmost priority.
Grocery items
We are currently in the process of donating all of our flour, pasta and rice stocks to the needy in Bulimba. Because we don’t do gluten or carbs for no fucking virus.
We have put in orders with the rest of the world for all the coconut flour, activated yak milk, nut butter and quinoa available. We don’t want a repeat of the brawl in the organic aisle at Woollies 2.0 over hoarding of biodynamic brown rice vinegar. There is enough to go around for everyone once we import all of the third world’s supply for fuck all cost.
There is also plenty of TP to go around, after a resident brokered an exclusive deal with a Brazilian contact to mow down a quarter of a million acres of Amazon rainforest to pulp up for us to wipe our arses on. Three ply minimum.
Social distancing
We never liked you anyway. It’s just now we have a word for it.
Ascot in lockdown
It’s been decided that Ascot will ‘self-isolate’ in the coming days. Borders to the suburb will be shut down, however special dispensation to leave the catchment is granted for luncheon emergencies at Hellenika, Studio 45 Lagree Pilates and the Calexico sale in James St.
Non-European cars will be stopped at checkpoints to ascertain if entry is legitimate, or they’re just Hendra residents seeking a short-cut back to the third world.
Travel
Shit got real when we had to cancel Capri. Now we’re really pissed.
Fairy lights
There has been some discussion over turning the fairy lights off in Racecourse Rd , after a Qantas 737 mistook it for a new north-south runway. We’re happy to report that the fairy lights in Racecourse Rd will remain on, 24/7 until this crisis is over, or at least until the Hemsworths visit.
Finally, we urge all of you to stay the hell away from us during this uncertain time.
