Weekend, hangover is thy name

Whoever invented brunch was one crazy bastard.  I’m not sure why it’s socially acceptable to get blotto at eleven in the morning on a Saturday just because you’re being served melon.  And of course once you’ve had a few then it turns into a drinking afternoon and then you’re in bed by nine o’clock at night because you can’t talk.

It was a fun Sunday.   I’m going to go try and finish my breakfast.

Can’t believe I have to write the second to last Matthew and Epp story now.  So weird.