Sunday Funday

I took today off work. I had to.
I woke up at 4:30 in the morning and I was still drunk. I almost fell over going to the bathroom - not because it was dark, but because someone kept shaking the floor like an old rug they were airing out.
I drank a lot on Sunday.
And it's all Phat's fault.
I was invited to be the guest of Pardon My French for Sunday brunch. I invited Phat to join me because we've gotten to become friends through the Happy Hour group and having had brunch a couple weeks ago. It seemed like a fun choice.
So we had brunch, we talked with the owner, Lindsey, about owning the restaurant for 1 month, how she's an admitted food snob, and how the changes at the restaurant are fun but stressful. Shop talk, sort of, while we enjoyed the crab cakes benedict and bottomless mimosas. We finished two entire bottles of champagne and just a tiny little 1/2 liter carafe of orange juice.
And then we started drinking in earnest.
We walked to the Hillcrest Farmers Market, which had closed down at 2pm, and out of frustration, we went into Brick for a drink.
Or two.
Shawn, our very sexy bartender clad in only a singlet, created some vodka and tequila drinks that he thought we'd enjoy.
And then we stumbled our way to Pecs. Phat had never been there, and he wanted to see first hand the depths to which a dive bar can… well… dive.
That's when Phat hit a wall. He ordered a drink, and couldn't touch it. (I, however, had no problem finishing my vodka & coke).
From there we took an Uber to Babycakes, a place we'd been to before for Happy Hour. They host something called Church on Sundays. How cute.
And yes, that's where the cute Hillcrest guys were. All sorts, really. Muscle bears, twinks, jocks, hipsters (are they still called that these days?).
We had another drink (one more that Phat didn't really drink) and then we got hungry. He knew a great ramen place nearby, so we walked over to it.
While I excused myself to freshen up, Phat ordered a large carafe of saki: milky white as poppy milk. And about as strong.
It was now 8pm, we'd been drinking for 8 hours, and though the pork dry ramen was good, I just couldn't eat half of it. The vodka, tequila, and saki were all dancing the mambo in my belly.
So another Uber home, and to bed.
And then that 4am feeling of - shit! I'm still drunk.
I knew if I went to work, I'd be foul. I don't suffer from hangovers, but the dehydration, the grouchiness, the sort of lazy blahness that comes after a hard day of drinking…. I didn't want to face that.
So I cobbled together some sub plans, logged in and requested a sub.
Within 5 minutes the job was taken and I went back to bed.
And slept until 9.
I woke up feeling good, took a slow and easy day editing photos and watching Drag Race.
Sunday was a fun day indeed!
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