Suuuunday. Fuuuuunday. It's finally nice enough on a Sunday for me to actually put on CLOTHES and go out in PUBLIC. It's a busy day. I'm having brunch (brunch is the new happy hour) with my friends Ally and Nick, which I'm assuming will turn into a day of wandering around Uptown popping in and out of bars to taste-test margaritas and bloody Marys. It's more a public service than anything else. We do all the tasting so you don't have to! You're welcome, everyone.
I miss brunch. In the winter, I hibernate and stay inside with cold pizza and coffee while watching America's Next Top Model marathons. Not exactly classy. But a real brunch, the kind with an omelet bar, is straight up class. Ally and I used to make brunch a weekly habit. We'd go out and not get home until dark, full of bacon, eggs, and mimosas. It was like adding a whole new day to the weekend. There's Friday night, Saturday, Sunday Funday, and then Sunday night a.k.a. Recovery Night.
When I was a kid, we'd always go out to brunch with my Grandma after church. We'd be all dressed up, and walk into Perkins - all 16 of us - and sit down for some chocolate chip pancakes and orange juice (sans champagne). I remember shoveling the food in my mouth, trying to get the whole thing over with so I could go home and hang with my friends. Oh, how times change. Now I'm rushing through my daily chores (you know, having coffee, avoiding laundry, making a list of things I should do today but won't get to until tomorrow) to get to brunch.
Anyway, six hours later I'm totally full of bacon and mimosas. And I've made a dent in the Uptown breakfast scene with Ally and Nick. Does this make me better at writing a blog, or worse? Answer: worse. My grandma would be totally disappointed right now. Although chocolate chip pancakes sound positively delicious right now, I have a feeling that she wouldn't be so happy with the mid-day shots.
Let's have a great week, everyone!