Brittany is a promo girl and as a promo girl she is slow roasting in the sun to work on a base tan before heading to her spray tan appointment for a session that will make America’s shock & awe campaign in Afghanistan look like a mild peppering.
Simply put, she is going full Oompaloompa in preparation for a burnout competition she’s earning $200 to look good at. These kinda gigs are her bread & butter, she loves nothing more than the familiar stank of screeching rubber, Brute body spray and missed child support payments.
Brittany makes her way to the gig in a pair of denim shorts that are providing worse coverage than Vodafone. Her white singlet screams “wet t-shirt competition” while her sizable high heels blend effortlessly with her platinum blonde hair to forge a sensual look that can only be described as dick-itch-chic.
Brittany struts, smiles and flirts with the unwashed masses while handing out flyers. Her ability to make these men feel like they could be her next mistake is unparalleled. She flawlessly giggles through an excruciating 2 minutes of a toothless bogan showing her a video of a burnout “he done” shot in a painful vertical orientation.
Her favourite part of this glamorous scene though is walking past the middle-aged ex-promo girls who used to wear the tiara. Life is a buffet and she is showing them why lamb gets eaten before mutton. Snarky comments fuel Brittany. It’s her oxygen.
While she keeps a brave face, there is always a tinge of sadness behind her heavily mascara’d eyes. Whenever she hears tyres screeching she remembers the time she missed out on being crowned Ms Motorvation a few years ago.
She declines an offer to earn a little extra cash serving Jack Daniel’s cans in a bloke’s shed after the event. Normally, she’d jump at the opportunity to spend another evening in a disgusting backyard shed but she knows a bloke in Scabs who is throwing a “crushed up ice but he’ll tell you it’s cocaine” party in his villa. Unmissable.
The next day, Brittany shows up to her job as a Red Bull promo girl with very little sleep. She drives around in a gimpy car with a bloke that is so high on life that he was turned down from being a Wiggle because they thought he was too much of a ray of sunshine.
She figures she’ll kill two birds with one stone and while handing out free cans, she entices the walking stiffies who have gravitated towards her to follow her on Instagram and OnlyFans. The first rule of hustling – never neglects the personal brand, baby.
In contrast, her male colleague is dedicated to setting a new record for how many times a bloke can say “awesome-sauce” before someone slams his shiny face against the pavement of acceptable enthusiasm
Documenting the Human Zoo is thirsty work, so if you enjoyed what you read how about buying Belle a beer, ay?
