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With every action, there’s an equal and opposite reaction. I learned that in elementary school before I realized how much fun it is to burn through brain cells every weekend in place of being a productive member of society.
The phrase “Sunday Funday” makes me sick for numerous reasons, but primarily because it rhymes and I imagine a guy wearing white sunglasses and a backwards flat brim saying it. But also because I’ve found that I hate myself less when I choose ice water over drink specials and homemade meals over Monday hangovers.
Unfortunately for all of us, “Sunday Funday” often feels like a good idea. That is, until the reaction to the original action kicks in.
Expectation: “I’m just going to wear this to brunch. It’s not like I’m going out after.”
Reality: [4 p.m.] “Am I the only person at this bar who’s essentially wearing pajamas? Okay, no, nevermind. All these people are in athleisure despite the fact that everyone is a combination of hungover and drunk.”
Expectation: “Ugh, I’m so hungover. No way I can go hard today.”
Reality: “Fine, fine, I’ll do the bottomless mimosas – they make more financial sense anyway.”
Expectation: “I’ll have, like, two mimosas at brunch, go home, nap, and feel normal by the time primetime HBO hits.”
Reality: [9 p.m.] “Fuck, my phone is at 1% and I’m not sure it’s going to last by the time our Uber arrives – also, when did it get so dark out?”
Expectation: “These mimosas aren’t doing it for me. I’m getting a bloody.”
Reality: “Did I really just pay $15 for a bloody mary that came with a beefstick straw, a cheeseburger on top of it, and what appears to be a chicken wing that fell in when the waitress slammed it on the table?”
Expectation: “If I’m home and in bed before the sun goes down, there’s no way I’ll be hungover at work on Monday.”
Reality: [8 a.m. Monday morning] “Did I post anything on Instagram or Snapchat that will be my downfall if I call in sick?”
Expectation: “Yeah, let’s go to another bar. This brunch was nice and all, but I’m not ready to go home.”
Reality: “I think I left my credit card at the last bar. Or was it the one before that? Wait, did we go to one before that?”
Expectation: “Let’s go to that one new bar that opened up a few streets over – I hear they’ve got awesome live music.”
Reality: [Arrives at bar; immediately has a panic attack because of noise levels and crowd]
Expectation: “If I drink enough water between drinks, I’ll be fine tomorrow.”
Reality: [8:30 p.m. that night] “Well, we’re about to find out if that whole ‘drink five glasses of water before bed’ hangover remedy works. Oh, God, am I going to pee the bed?”
Expectation: “Alright, it’s getting late. I’m sticking to beer.”
Reality: “Excuse me, barkeep, you got any Gatorade for Gatorade-vodkas? I need to hydrate.”
Expectation: “I’ve spent, like, a million dollars this weekend. You guys go to dinner without me.”
Reality: “Am I really about to spend $39 on Shake Shack? Would it be ridiculous to ask the Favor driver to stop by 7/11 for some Pedialyte?”
Expectation: [Starts watching HBO at 9:45 p.m.] “Ughhhh, I love this show.”
Reality: [Monday night, 7:30 p.m.] “Yeah, I need to rewatch those shows from last night. I hardly remember either of them.]
Expectation: [1:15 immediately following brunch] “You know what? Yeah, I’ll Sunday Funday.”
Reality: [8:15 Monday morning] “I’m way too old for this shit. I’m never drinking again.” .
Respond
Will
Will (Twitter / Instagram) is the host of The Sunday Scaries Podcast.
@willdefries
@willdefries
defriewf
will@grandex.co
It’s called Faderade, Will. Did you even go to high school football games?
My last two Sunday brunches have ended with losing my sunglasses, a debit card and passing out in an uber.
That’s the motto.
Team is still alive in the tournament and playing today. I wish I had a choice to not drink today.
Commit to the bender.
Good, let the liquor flow through you.
You must binge drink, my young padawan.
It is slowing occurring to me that I lead a vastly different life than many of you. Deduction tells me that means I’m the oldest person in the room. [grimace]
Nah, man. I’m old too. Even had time for BB&B yesterday.
Get off my lawn.
I spent half my day pretending a ton of stuffed animals was a zoo for my daughter’s doll, and the other half of it working under a car. I feel your pain.
I got my garage organized, ice fishing stuff put away for the year and got 6 ducks smoked. Made dinner while my wife got half lit at a Mary Kay party.
That’s the dream man.
sweet hubby. call me if you’re ever single.
Sunday funday is fun until you realize you lost your wallet the night before, were ejected from the bar and placed in fincuffs while the lady dolphin you secured a date with a half hour before witnesses the whole thing. Definitely not autobiographical in any way.
Will, my buddy just ditched me for the WGC
and I have an extra ticket. Wanna roll?
Unfortunately, I’m home sick in bed. But word on the street is that a couple members of Backdoor Cover may be out there.
Hungover*
Thanks Will, now I have to partake in sunday funday after reading this because its exactly whats going to happen.
Yea this post was kind of inspiring to me, definitely going to keep the michelob ultra train going today.
I’ve learned to keep my Sunday Fundays restricted to NFL season. Helps with a definite stopping point. Get to the bar at noon, get some food in me, snacks as the 4pm games kickoff, then home when those games end and in bed for the SNF kickoff. 9/10 I end up fine Monday morning.
Started my Sunday with a heated yoga class with the gf. Felt fantastic all day. 10/10 highly recommend it
You’re an animal
I’ve learned I definitely cannot keep up with how I used to attack Sunday Funday as a 25-year-old. I was the one always ordering more rounds of mimosas and now I cringe at the thought of my taste buds being destroyed by the overwhelming flavor of orange juice for 2 days afterward. Def have to cut Funday off around 4 pm if I don’t want to be hungover the next day.