A friend of mine recently sent an article with the title, “Bottomless Brunches are Illegal, and Now Happiness is Dead.”
First of all, if you’re going to give away the entire article in the title, I’m bound to not read it.
Secondly, I detest brunch in New York City, so this article is already dead to me.
Yes, I’m one of those.
There are two types of people who live in New York: people who LOOOOOOOVE brunch, and people who don’t. And before all those jerks who spend three hours at bottomless boozy brunches start yelling at me and tell me I’m a soulless, boring bitch, I’ll explain why I feel the way I do.
A. I’m a lunch person. I LOOOOOOOVE a good sandwich. And some hot, tasty French fries. Many times, the only sandwiches cropping up on brunch menus include eggs. And while this is great for some, I can’t eat those. And I’d rather not partake in anything sugary at high noon (the only sugary thing on lunch menus are desserts). Nothing says, “unproductivity” like a sugar crash/drunken nap at 2:00 in the afternoon. Bring on lunch.
2. Speaking of 2:00 in the afternoon, I know a lot of people who don’t even GO to brunch until then. Are you people INSANE?! Do you not feel the affects of a rumbly in your tumbly? Are you also those people who wake up at noon? WHY DO YOU MISS THE GLORIOUS TIME THAT IS MORNING?! I hate you.
and D. My eggs—even though I can’t eat them—are the best. I say this because it’s absolutely true. (Just ask Linda Lew.) So I’d rather serve them at home instead of getting something half-assed at a pricey bistro in the West Village. And perhaps it’s half-assed because most cooks hate working the line during brunch. Let’s be honest, they’re not learning any new technique by frying up bacon and eggs. I guess unless you’re making brunch at WD~50 or what have you.
I guess it’s so long, farewell? I’ll see you fuckers at luncheon.