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Wake up and drive to the gym. Get in some light cardio before hitting chest, back, and abs.
Wake up and drive to brunch. Get in a Bloody Mary before ordering heavy appetizers and a pitcher of mimosas.
Hit the showers and grab a smoothie. Consider heading to the pool and showing off your recently toned body.
Hit the restroom and break the seal. Consider ordering a round of shots from the bar on your way back to the table to surprise your degenerate friends.
Polish off your smoothie poolside. Check out a group of sunbathing hotties through your mirrored sunglasses.
Polish off your second pitcher of mimosas. Joke about needing to slow down your alcohol intake as you order another.
Complain about tax rates on the phone with your dad. Tell him you’re deciding between purchasing a new vehicle and saving money to buy a home.
Complain that there isn’t enough promiscuous trim at the bar. Consider relocating to a different spot with cheaper drink specials and sluttier waitresses.
Pick up some new towels from Bed Bath & Beyond. Do some spring-cleaning around your apartment.
Pick up a pack of cigarettes from the gas station across the street. High-five your buddy as you strut into Hooters in a near blackout state.
Check out your schedule for the week. Make sure you don’t have any overlapping appointments, and make note of presentations that may require last minute preparations.
Shamelessly check out every single Hooters girl in the joint. Say something obnoxiously awesome to your waitress when she introduces herself: “What’s a babe like you doing in a breastaurant like this?”
Catch a flick in theatres with a group of friends. Allow yourself a box of Milk Duds because you worked out earlier.
Regurgitate all twenty of the Buffalo wings that you inhaled at an alarming rate into the Hooters toilet. Ask your friend what time it is. He checks his watch and jokes: “It’s beer thirty.”
Head home to hang out with your roommates, relax, watch the news, and surf the internet until it’s time for bed.
Stumble into your apartment obnoxiously singing Drake’s “Started From The Bottom.” Tell your roommate to go fuck himself when he asks you to keep it down. Grab a Miller Lite from the fridge and plop down on the couch.
Change into your pajamas and knock out a chapter of the most recent self-help book you’re reading. Double check to make sure your alarm is correctly set, and doze off knowing you’ll get 9 hours of quality sleep.
Pass out on the couch with your full beer in hand.
Wake up feeling refreshed and ready to face the week. Stroll into work with a smile on your face and a positive attitude.
Wake up on the couch in a state of sheer panic fifteen minutes before you’re supposed to be in the office. Check your phone and realize it’s dead. Crawl into bed still fully clothed from last night as your anxiety levels start to climax. Email in sick to work, wallow in self loathing, and vow never to participate in Sunday Funday again.
Respond
Ross Bolen
Ross Bolen is a New York Times Bestselling author, co-host of the Oysters, Clams & Cockles: Game of Thrones podcast, co-host of the Back Door Cover sports podcast, 2017 Masters attendee, bigger and more loyal Rockets, Astros and Texans fan than you, cheese enchilada aficionado, and nap god.
@WRBolen
@WRBolen
WRBolen
The next week: Go to Sunday Funday because you heard about the slutty waitresses and had to see for yourself.
OR
Return to Sunday Funday to forget your last Sunday Funday experience, and close on that hot blonde.