Sunday Brunch

“It’s not quite breakfast, it’s not quite lunch, but it comes with a slice of cantaloupe at the end. You don’t get completely what you would at breakfast, but you get a good meal.” Jacques, "The Simpsons"

Sunday Brunch is the favorite meal of white chicks and they cherish the hell out of it.

It's the perfect storm of dining experiences for cute Caucasian females. Where else can you find so many variations of dishes involving poached eggs and the word "Benedict," fresh fruit, leafy greens, perhaps something slightly greasy and/or fried, and a brilliant inclusion of fresh avocado?

Only brunch...that's where.

But cherishing brunch is about way more than just the food for white chicks. It's the chance to look adorable (oftentimes despite the lack of a shower that day and a high probability of hangover) in a cute dress, possibly a summer scarf, and (if brunch takes place on an outdoor patio) over-sized sunglasses. (As a side note, white girls have an innate and uncanny ability to look super-cute while hungover. It's one of the things I love most about them. And there is no better evidence of that skill than Sunday Brunch). It's a completely wonderful opportunity, (and let's face it, these times honestly cannot happen enough) to catch up with other spectacular white chicks over a delicious meal.

And don't forget the day drinking.

White girls love day drinking. (Who can blame them, though? It's an awesome, entirely different world than drinking at night). And no other meal provides so many options for day drinking than brunch. It is not uncommon for a white girl to switch between sipping at least three different beverages at once at her brunch place setting. Along with the prerequisite glass of iced water, white girls will enjoy a "comfort drink"--possibly a Diet Coke, a coffee beverage, or tea (hot or iced), along with an alcoholic brunch drink--usually a Bloody Mary, maybe a Bellini in a more refined establishment and the fantastic possibility of the "Official Alcoholic Beverage of White Chicks"--the Mimosa.

Common topics for white chicks' brunch conversation may include, but are not limited to, the following:

--Who at the table has the most vicious hangover
--Vague remembrances of the previous night
--What was ordered from the Waffle House or Krystal menus at 3AM the previous night
--OMG, look at this picture taken on someone's phone from last night
--How awesome is this Bloody Mary/Bellini/Mimosa?
--Guys/guy parts
--Where was that fabulous dress purchased?
--That one friend in the group who is way sluttier than everyone else
--The "craziest thing" that happened at someone's job the previous week
--That weird guy/lady at work who is a total freak
--Isn't this brunch awesome?
--A brief remembrance of that one night in college
--The fight someone had recently with their mother
--Something stupid their husband/boyfriend/guy they're talking to did/said
--A run down of who's engaged/pregnant/getting a divorce
--The group's collective dislike of that one girl who, for unexplainable reasons, is an inevitable part of their circle of friends
--Seriously, this brunch is SO good
--Someone at the table's desperate need for a mani/pedi, hair appointment and/or spray tan
--How the waiter sort of looks like that one guy from that one movie or that one guy who was in their Econ class that dated their sorority sister
--A wholly inappropriate discussion in a public setting about sexual intercourse
--Best. Brunch. Ever.

You wouldn't think the best part of Sunday Brunch would be the ending. But it is.

Still looking adorable, only now half-drunk and satiated from a glorious meal, the rest of Sunday is wide open and full of possibilities for white chicks. How they choose to spend those few remaining romantic hours of weekend freedom are nearly limitless. And there's something truly special, magical and whimsical about however they choose to revel in that wondrous splendor.

It has been, and will continue to be, a marvelous day.

If Sunday Brunch has a negative side, it would be its exclusivity as a meal designated only for couples and white girls. It's true. Single guys only get to eat brunch on Mother's Day or on pity-invites from their married or coupled-up friends, but it's just not the same. Now, being a single idiot male does afford one a lot of freedoms. For example, I can eat every meal, if I choose to do so, in front of my television wearing nothing but my underpants. AND I can watch TV from my bathroom--it's pretty awesome. And that's just the tip of the freedom iceberg. But perhaps the most unfortunate fault (of which there are several to choose from) of being a single, idiot male is the lack of brunch.

Single heterosexual dudes just can't do some of the same things it's perfectly socially acceptable for a group of white chicks to do. We can't go out in a large group to a delicious fancy restaurant. We can't go shopping for clothes together and recommend shirts that would make one another look handsome. And, sadly, we can't go eat brunch together on Sundays and laugh. I wish I could more properly and eloquently explain why, but single guys simply can't eat brunch, and I think it's bullshit. Call it sour grapes, and you'd be absolutely correct. But I miss brunch. I truly do.



**Due to an overwhelming number of requests (which have totaled two up to this point) I will try my best to start updating WWCC twice a week from now on. But I cannot accomplish this feat without your help, dearest reader. So please, join the Facebook Group and share some recommendations for topics or other things you'd like to see covered in the blog.