Sunday FUNDAY

Do you have one? Everyone has one, one that makes your Monday so enjoyable that you feel like re-enacting every scene from Office Space? Woke up around 10, laid around feeling sorry for myself after the night previous had left me hungry, blurry, and not ashamed. It's my party, I'll cry if I want to, regardless of the source of tears. And in that case, it was from puking out Cheladas and cake!
I moan and groan at the thought of traveling anywhere than to and from the couch while Dave devises a plan for us to drink off our hangovers. Not feeling it, especially after Becki tosses in a plan for bottomless mimosas at the newly relocated Sweetwater Restaurant... nope. No way.

So I throw on some classy ass shirt, some Paper Denim jeans, and my $5 glasses and do my best Colin Farrel impression and we bounce out the door headed to Sweetwater, but not without the "Princess" balloon and tiara I received from my "friends" on my birthday. What can I say, I'm a sucker for peer pressure. And everyone has that friend, you know, that gets you to do pretty much anything... resulting in arrests, hangovers, and midgets. EFFING DAVE.
We arrive at the brunch to find we're the 1st, meeting with Meg and Ann, sisters, and Becki's best friends. They take to the mimosas, and brunch becomes a "build your own bloody mary" contest with Dave and an isolation move by me as I watch the 'Wings handle the Coyotes to even the series. I can't help it, I'm broke and I love hockey- so no breakfast for now. Dave, content on making my birthday weekend the best around, continues to feed me marys.
With a couple texts from Leah, I realize that the Sharks game is also later, and we pencil in a meeting later for a pre-drink margarita session with the Don Julio from the previous night. Sara, this week's April baby, and the host of the brunch, moves that we relocate to Zebra to continue on Sunday FUNday, which, by the way, just happens to be the best weather in Sacramento to this point- 80s, slight breeze, no clouds. Ridiculous.
At Zebra, we quickly make friends with John Jameson and finish watching the Dodgers Giants game...





Have you ever felt the push and pull of owning a fantasy sports team? You know, you have that player you hate to love, the one that continues your fantasy dominance week after week, by usually playing against your ACTUAL favorite team? This story ends with the Giants leading a 1-0 game into the 8th inning before Manny Ramirez hits a big one into the stands...
I cheer wildly, being a Tigers fan- not caring, of course, for either team- and get booed by 10 or so odd Giants fan. So I did what I love to do: antagonize. I turn around, throw up my hands and say, "awwww c'mon, he's on my fantasy team! get over it!". The shrugs I receive validate my above claim about loyalty and where it lie... People are getting hungry and restless, and I start to wonder how many people are going to be coming over to Leah's with us, considering the crew we've amassed. The hunger works to our advantage as we decide on Vito's for a slice and relaxation. After some pitchers or beer and sangria, the crew chooses R15 for another drink. At this point, our friend Jenna has an improv to perform later, so Meg splits from the group amongst some dissension centering on our attendance to said improv. Our drunkedness saves us from going, but the girls bicker for a moment before agreeing to meet later.
Beers, jager bombs, and beers ensue, as the Sharks battle in a rather boring game against the Avalanche. Drunk, tired, and hungry again, we leave Leah and Nikolai and head to Safeway, grabbing to packs of chicken, 2 bags of chips, and a 30 pack. It's 8:00, and we're ready. Brian stops by, and now it's on. We prep and toss the wings in, and get cracking on the Chandeliers- have you played?
You get a rocks or tumbler glass and set it in front of you, and push it against a pint glass in the middle which has been filled with an entire beer. Each player pours a few ounces of beer in their cup, and takes their turn shooting into the glasses. If a player makes it in his/her cup or any cup besides the middle cup, the player who is behind the cup drinks. If a player makes it into the middle cup, all players must finish the beer in front of them, last one to finish drinks the middle. Everybody is a winner, no discrimination.
Wings and beer gone in 45 minutes, we elect to foolishly pop the bottle of champagne in the fridge to continue our debauchery... 'nuff said. Good night.