People often argue over which is the best day of the week. Some will go with Friday since it's the beginning of the weekend and your temporary freedom from the shackles of the work week are the furthest in your rear-view mirror. Others might say Saturday since you can sleep into the afternoon until your morning wood gently wakes you from your slumber. But, to me the best day of the week is Sunday. On Sunday you can reminisce about the horrible decisions you made over the past two nights, enjoy your last day of independence and watch football with your dumb shit buddies. Since I haven't written a time stamp post in nineteen months, I figured it was about time for another.
9:03 AM: Wake up from a dazed syncope after going out until you heard birds chirping; even though you told yourself you would take the night off to be fully rested for Sunday Funday.
9:04 AM: Punch yourself in the dick.
9:12: AM: Shit, shower and shave. In unison. That hole in the shower is big enough.
9:17 AM: Call dipshit buddies to confirm bar location and receive grunts and moans as an answer as they obviously just woke up as well.
9:20 AM: Check lineups for your seven fantasy football teams. Contemplate how much further in your "career" you would be without fantasy sports.
9:21 AM: Forget about that shit and drop Reggie Wayne cause he sucks dick.
9:30 AM: Drive to bar location feeling a wee bit drunk from the night before.
9:34 AM: Eh, it's OK. They don't give out DUI's during the day.
9:51 AM: Greet groggy friends at bar.
9:57 AM: Talk shit about friend that didn't show up like a bunch of conniving yentas.
10:04 AM: Early games start. Sunday Funday has officially begun!
10:08 AM: Order a bloody mary to cure your hangover.
10:11 AM: Regret bloody mary after receiving a sandpaper-like feeling flow down your throat. Tobasco was a bad choice.
10:15 AM: Order a light beer. Get made fun of by the bartender and your buddies for not ordering a Miller Lite like a true man.
10:23 AM: Talk about the previous night with your buddies and don't forget to mention numerous times "that one girl I almost banged" to save face from your six month dry spell.
10:33 AM: Think about all your religious friends that are at church right now.
10:34 AM: Look down and smile to the devil. You'll be acquainted soon enough.
10: 41 AM: See a girl with big tits. Nudge friend, share an acknowledging facial expression and slyly low-five under the table. Male bonding at it's finest.
10:48 AM: Root against your buddy's team until he starts crying. Rub it in by telling him about the time his girlfriend gave you oral pleasure.
11:01 AM: Make fun of the ditzy sideline reporter and mention how you know more about football than she does.
11:05 AM: Laugh at idiots who showed up late and have to stand to watch the game.
11:09 AM: Yell at men much bigger, stronger and more gifted physically than you to "stop being a pussy and run the god damn ball!"
11:16 AM: Look at breakfast menu, take half an hour to decide on what to order.
11:19 AM: Finish breakfast burrito. Remember to buy more toilet paper and a plunger for later tonight.
11:28 AM: Attempt to hit on hot bartender. Be shut down immediately. Sulk in your defeat.
11:34 AM: Big touchdown play! Cheer, high-five, take a chug of your beer and thank God that you're an American male.
11:38 AM: Get up to take a piss. Nearly eat shit trying to get out of your chair.
11:40 AM: Use restroom, pee on self a little. Be glad that your throwback jersey is big on you and can cover pee stains on jeans.
11:42 AM: Come back to find your chair taken by a big dude who could easily kick your ass.
11:43 AM: Stand for the remainder of the game with the "idiots" you were making fun of earlier.
11:44 PM: Contemplate stealing the crippled guy's wheelchair.
11: 50 AM: Crack wise at the kicker; even though he's in better shape than you and makes more money than you ever will.
11:51 AM: Finish beer.
12:00 PM: Watch as the redneck sitting at the next table tries to get the bartender to change the channel to a NASCAR event.
12:02 PM: Contemplate murder and it's possible repercussions.
12:07 PM: Check your fantasy matchup and begin to cry a little inside.
12:19 PM: Wear your sunglasses inside 'cause you're a G.
12:21 PM: Have trouble watching the games and remove sunglasses.
12:31 PM: Start to remember some of the things you did last night. Attempt to forget.
12:42 PM: Someone just ordered shots. I guess the whole "Three drink limit" is going out the window.
12:45 PM: Call out for work tomorrow. It's flu season, right?
12:52 PM: Watch as your parlay goes to shit.
12:54 PM: Call parents for a loan.
1:05 PM: Late games! This might be the only scenario where something that starts at 1 o'clock is considered "late."
1:10 PM: See a bunch of balding overweight men in their forties watching the game across the bar. Tell yourself you'll never be like that twenty years down the road.
1:12 PM: Realize that is your future. Order another round.
1:19 PM: Order lunch. You've been drinking all day, not moving and are now on your second meal in as many hours. It's all good, you'll work off the calories tomorrow at that gym you haven't signed up for yet.
1:28 PM: Walk outside and bask in the glory of Sunday Funday. Trip over a curb during your basking and skin your knee.
1:33 PM: Your buddy's girlfriend just showed up. Disparagingly explain the fundamentals of the game until she loses interest after seeing a commercial with a puppy in it.
1:40 PM: Give your friend a menacing look for bringing his stupid girlfriend.
1:47 PM: The wide receiver on your bench just scored his third touchdown.
1:55 PM: Attempt to chat up the hot bartender about the game. Realize within seconds that she isn't a fan of football.
2:01 PM: Make origami out of the bar napkins.
2:09 PM: Order a glass of water to help alleviate your drunkeness.
2:11 PM: Ugh, water tastes so much worse than beer.
2:28 PM: Bathroom trip #8!
2:31 PM: Contemplate installing a urinal in your home.
2:33 PM: High five a random dude in your team's jersey. Remember that you forgot to wash your hands.
3:09 PM: Blackout for a little bit. Try to figure out if anyone noticed.
3:17 PM: Get call from your mother. Hit ignore.
3:22 PM: Have a conversation outside with a drunk stranger. Try to find a pause in the conversation to escape.
3:26 PM: Make a couple racial jokes after scouring the bar for black guys.
3:31 PM: This bar has a punching machine? Time to break the high score!
3:35 PM: After ten dollars and a broken wrist, you have not beaten the high score.
3:41 PM: Talk to friends about non-football related topics. Realize you don't have much in common.
3:44 PM: Put down beer on bar.
3:45 PM: Forget which beer is yours and take the most full one.
3:48 PM: Contemplate building your own personal man cave.
3:51 PM: Check bank account online and forget the entire notion.
3:55 PM: Lackadaisically watch the remaining games that have already been decided. Pretend to care.
4:01 PM: Ask for your tab. Pray to the heavens they forgot to add a bunch of shit to your bill.
4:03 PM: $96? Fuck.
4:07 PM: Make your goodbyes to friends as you stumble to your car. No hugs or well wishing, though. Just tell them to fuck off and bro-hug it out. Men!
There you have it, just another successful Sunday Funday. There was morning drinking, football, suppression of feelings, unsuccessful contact with the opposite sex, bathroom visits, injuries, greasy food and high fives. What more could you ask for on a Sunday?