…so basically, it’s not really like summer camp at all. Unless the summer camp you used to attend included copious amounts of cheap beer and naked ladies. Also file under the copious-amounts-of category: Ray-Bans and Ray-Ban knock-offs, short-shorts, camel-toes, really creepy moustaches, paint, cigarettes, tattoos and generally bad life decisions. Pretty much the only thing I didn’t see in copious amounts at my very first (!!!) Best Friends Day was assholes, which brings me to my next point.
It’s strange, really. Everyone was acting almost like they were… wait for it… best friends! Who would have thought? Not me, I’ll admit. When I first arrived at BFD, I was nervous. Why would anyone ever be nervous about a day full of drinking, swimming and live music, you ask? Because of my lack of, well, best friends (not to mention my tattoo-less body… Thank God I have a nose ring, the surest sign of individuality). But after a few friendly head-nods and handshakes and a few more beers (read: a lot more beers consumed in a very short time), I was feeling right at home.
…so basically, it’s not really like summer camp at all. Unless the summer camp you used to attend included copious amounts of cheap beer and naked ladies. Also file under the copious-amounts-of category: Ray-Bans and Ray-Ban knock-offs, short-shorts, camel-toes, really creepy moustaches, paint, cigarettes, tattoos and generally bad life decisions. Pretty much the only thing I didn’t see in copious amounts at my very first (!!!) Best Friends Day was assholes, which brings me to my next point.
It’s strange, really. Everyone was acting almost like they were… wait for it… best friends! Who would have thought? Not me, I’ll admit. When I first arrived at BFD, I was nervous. Why would anyone ever be nervous about a day full of drinking, swimming and live music, you ask? Because of my lack of, well, best friends (not to mention my tattoo-less body… Thank God I have a nose ring, the surest sign of individuality). But after a few friendly head-nods and handshakes and a few more beers (read: a lot more beers consumed in a very short time), I was feeling right at home.
Pretty soon, I was verbally “liking” everything about everyone around me (side note: this is a fashion obsessive’s go-to way of starting a conversation). For instance, I like your haircut (that’s totally absurd and utterly unattractive, but accepted as a testament to your artistic qualities), I like your sunglasses (that everyone else is wearing), I like your (random-ass ironic thrift store kid’s) t-shirt and I just love that hand-studded [insert name of clothing article here] (that matches your hand studded face, neither of which appear to have been washed since their simultaneous births back in 1984). I like your swim trunks (that show off your disgustingly hairy thighs and relatively small… never mind) and I like your swimsuit (that is horribly unflattering and moderately transparent, but is high-waisted, so it’s cool because it’s “different”). Most of all, I like you. No, seriously. I really, truly liked everyone, despite ridiculous appearances. This one doesn’t have any smart-ass qualifications in parentheses. But don’t worry, there’s plenty more sarcasm where that came from.
My name’s Cori. I like fashion. I also like making fun of fashion. It’s a pleasure to meet all you hip, trendy folk who I may have already met at BFD and who I’m going to make fun of over the Internets for a while. Just remember, I’m only joking, best friends…
Here I am losing my Best Friends Day virginity. Aren’t ya proud?
Nose ring? Check. We’ve already discussed this.
Ray-Bans; fake and real? Check. Check.
Vintage thrift store cut-off Levi’s short shorts? Check.
Unflattering high-waisted swimsuit? Check. Underneath the high-waisted denim, duh.
Body paint? Check.
Cheap beer? Check… Check… Check.
Cigarettes? Not visible (hello, what if my mom sees this!?), but check.
Broken and beat up hand-studded shoulder bag? Not visible either, but also check.
Okay, I didn’t actually put the studs on the bag myself, but you get the point: I make fun of you; I make fun of me. Some days, I won’t make fun of anyone at all. But until then, let’s talk some shit.
By Cori Hanky
Top Photo by Franklin Obregon
