Sunday Funday

Edamame, I do not remember the golden globes. Why you may ask? Because I started taking tequila shots at 1 pm after our Essex unlimited mimosa brunch. I do vaguely recall Kate's shocking win, Tina's suck it speech, and how messy is the new coifed. I also distinctly remember thinking I had ESP because I was surprisingly calling all the wins like 10 seconds before they were announced. And half-correctly.

Sunday funday was the highlight of my weekend and should always be encouraged. What started as a friendly little brunch, merging college networks amid crabcake benedicts turned into a raging T time where I found myself still crushing brews at 11 pm last night, supporting a sport I frankly do not care about, picking up lost singular shoes from various bars from the night before, and diving face first into a plate of supreme nachos from brother jimmys.

I get it-- this is your typical lush behavior however if this isn't part of life, then I do not want to live. Call me inappro, but Sunday Funday is here to stay.

Now, edamames, give us something good. Like why Drew Berrimore deserves to attend the GG's and we do not.