April 1, 2004  
Volume 97, Issue 96  

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ARTS & ENTERTAINMENT

Day-o-Typical Wealthy Girl

By ABT
Gazelle Staff

Dank Pickin/Gazelle
WOW, ARE THOSE LIPS ON HER ASS? TWG proudly displays her toned ass, fluffy thong and tiny tat. Girl power!

We all see them on campus. The designer-clad untouchables of the University of Wealthy Ontarians, scorned and detested by many and adorably dubbed “Wealthy girls.”

I was fortunate enough to spend an entire day with one of Wealthy’s finest accomplishments: a specimen of complete idiocy. There were few surprises to be had that day with this beauty upholding the notoriety to a T.

6:30 a.m. — I witness the most frightening and vivid moment of my life as my subject arises from bed with the same crusty makeup she had on the night before at GT’s.

6:40 a.m. — She pushes with two feet against the schmoe lying next to her and he grumbles, annoyed. She screams at him to get the hell out. The boy, confused and embarrassed, leaves.
6:50 a.m. — Our typical Wealthy girl (herein acknowledged as TWG) screams as she glances at her alarm clock: “Only two hours to shower and get ready! Like, oh my god!”

6:55 a.m. — She disappears into the bathroom gripping a tackle box of supplies: a death hold on her blowdryer in one hand and her hair straightener in the other.

8:30 a.m. — TWG returns with perfectly straight locks and impeccably applied makeup. And it only took an hour-and-a-half, folks!

8:40 a.m. — TWG opens her closet to reveal — similar to some super heroes and cartoon characters — various colours of couture sweatsuits, varying styles of Ugg boots, puffy vests and American Eagle’s fake vintage T-shirts. “Like, what to wear?” she asks. She decides that today she feels cute so she’ll wear pink Juicy pants, pink Ugg boots and an AE T-shirt that says “Proud to Farm.” Suddenly it occurs to me that I notice an average of three Proud to Farm shirts a day.

8:55 a.m. — After dressing and checking out her assets in the mirror at least 10 times, it is time to catch the bus. TWG slips into her white, puffy winter jacket with fur-lined hood — a fashion must for Wealthy girls. Living in Delaware Hall and having to walk all the way to Middlesex College is tough, so naturally TWG and her roommate wait for the bus.

9:05 a.m. — The bus is late and — gasp! — so are the TWGs. I ask them if they dressed this way in high school, to which they inform me that they really don’t care about what they look like. Interesting. Recall that it took our TWG an hour-and-a-half to do hair and makeup. Naturally, the philosophy must be, “I like to keep up my personal hygiene, but I like to show the boys that I am casual and approachable with my ‘laid-back’ dress.”

9:15 a.m. — A bunch of TWGs enter the classroom, making a rather noisy procession down the stairs to get their seats. Preferring a seat in the middle of the row, they awkwardly lunge over people.

9:20 a.m. — Finally seated, their cellphones ring — both with obnoxious ringtones like muzak versions of “Milkshake.” The professor speaks about a major assignment due this week and TWG whispers to me that she hasn’t started hers yet. Her friend asks her if she wants to go shopping after class; she accepts since Guess just got their spring line in.

9:30-9:50 a.m. — TWGs continue to yammer through lecture about everything from their hair, to clothes, to their nails to… their hair.

10:05-10:45 a.m. — Latté break! We head to Einstein’s Cafe to grab something tall and frothy. Our TWG pulls up a seat to discuss the finer things in life on our break. She reminisces about the night before, commenting that she doesn’t remember much, having been so drunk. Then suddenly she recalls the tiff she had in the bathroom. Another girl was “totally” wearing her outfit and TWG was all, like, “Um, what the hell?” and the girl was all, like, “Whatever.” My head hurts. [Insert screeching, hair pulling and clawing here.]

11:00 a.m.-3:00 p.m. — TWG pretends to listen and take notes in her last three classes of the day. In between she provides insightful commentary on the professors’ lecturing style such as, “This is so stupid,” or, “He is so boring” or my favourite, “That kind of reminds me of that one time on The Bachelor... ”

3:10 p.m. – On the “oh-so-long” walk down University College Hill back to TWG’s residence, she slips on sunglasses and waxes philosophical about the world. I ask her offhand what her plans are after university, to which she replies, “Well, I was thinking since Wealthy has, like, such a good law school and all, I might go there.” This is where I think, “Yeah, or you know, London has an abundance of adult entertainment establishments... ”

3:30 p.m. — As we reach the intersection in front of Delaware Hall, she quickly hugs me and exclaims, “It’s been, like, so fun being, like, you know, like a celebrity.” I concur with an awkward laugh and step back quickly as the girls wave goodbye and prepare to cross the street. I hear a honk as I turn to walk home; naturally, they don’t wait for the signal and just start walking. TWG gives the driver the finger and keeps trotting along.

I shrug my shoulders and think, they had to have the marks to get here so they must be semi-intelligent... but then again, there are always extra-curriculars... .

 

 

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