Martie does Flemington

Friends.

You know sometimes when you just get it all together; you're hot, you're on top of your game, and nothing is going to bring your confidence down? Bear with me while I still get over the shock of it all, as I present to you Racing's Unofficial Hot or Not List.

HOT: Cleavage.
NOT: Cleavage; arms/shoulders; legs; cut out bits of dresses; vadge. Ladies, you do not need to get your minge on at the races. Guys will be drunk enough to entice for a quick grope without it. Put it away.

HOT: The Member's Enclosure.
NOT: Not going to watch the actual race. If you want to watch it on a big screen TV, go to pub. It means you can take your jacket off without being told off by men in green top hats too.

HOT: Chicken & 'green stuff' sandwiches.
NOT: Paying $1.50 for a quarter (one triangle) of a sandwich.

HOT: Cheaper drinks than at a bar in the city.
NOT: The Fucktard who did not know how to make a vodka, lime & orange. It is NOT a strange combination.

HOT: Men in suits.
NOT: Men who go out of their way to look like they picked up their clothes from the Op-Shop that morning. Mate, no one was buying your brown checked pants; bottle green & red checked jacket; multicoloured stripe shirt and purple paisley tie. Try. Hard.

HOT: Me!
NOT: Me this morning!

Thoroughly glad I did go. My fake airbrush tan did not render me a human carrot. My tits (despite walking in the door seven seconds ahead of me - curse damn dress) were awesome. I had a win on Race Two, which gave me enough money to bet and drink with for the rest of the day AND I did not have to endure the Pissed Race-goer Parades Around The Casino All Dressed Up Like A Wank scenario. Although I nearly did freeze said tits off whilst waiting for a cab.

I already have my outfit planned for Caulfield Cup. Bring on Spring Racing!