Brooke slams back Smirnoff like a Russian fisherwoman while she gets ready for Futurez. She is rocking “fuck you dad” denim short shorts which are complemented by a white crochet top that makes a bra seem like formal attire. She slips on a flowery headband to try and claw back some subtlety to her outfit. In reality, she looks like the victim of a drive-by slutting from the barrel of a juvie pistol.
Brooke arrives at Future Music and immediately demands her friends pose for a group selfie. The shot looks like a police lineup to solve the mystery of which duck broke into Priceline and went feathery-wild in the makeup aisle. Brooke’s pout is so severe that you’d think she had collagen on toast for breakfast with a side of scrambled allergic reaction. She squees with excitement and uploads the photo to Instagram, “Futurez with my bishes #FutureMusic15 #yourfuture #SoManyJuvies #friends #tanning #fitness #duckfacelol”.
After munching some dexies, Brooke is in the middle of a rinsey dance floor. She sees an opportunity to snap a selfie with Knife Party in the background. She puckers up her lips and angles the camera, so her eyebrows look perfect. Suddenly, a great tragedy bestows her duckfacery. A rinser and a turbo converge on her from either side. The muzzing dick-biter’s fierce karate chops are distracting, and the rinser’s bucket-hated foolishness has ruined the shot. She storms off to refuel on some more juvie-juice and post an unnecessarily aggressive Facebook post, “FUCK FUTUREZ SRSLY!”
On her way to see her Drake (her future husband if her Facey posts are to be believed), she runs into a cousin. The cousin asks a mate to take a photo of them. The deed is done, and Brooke has juvie-pranced off into the distance. He looks at his digital camera with disgust, “for fuck’s sake” he is staring at his dickhead cousin looking like she is trying to suck Mr Grey’s finger back out of her own arse. Delete.
By the end of the day, Brooke has posed for more selfies than a Japanese tourist with a new camera. She sits on her laptop while her friends sit around a Northbridge apartment drinking and smoking poorly rolled juvie-joints. Flicking through her camera is truly surreal: a hundred different backgrounds and the same fucking face in every photo.
She posts the sort of photo album that makes a bloke wonder why he isn’t holding the duck hunter gun and going for a high score.
Documenting the Human Zoo is thirsty work, so if you enjoyed what you read how about buying Belle a beer, ay?