[if] every day [were] like sunday...

I've learned that there are two ways to spend a Sunday. You can wake up, get your New York Times/coffee/hangover Gatorade/tofu cream cheese bagel, try to do the crossword puzzle by Googling all the proper names, fail miserably, take a nap, watch Family Guy and assorted crime dramas, and toss and turn in bed until it's time to go to work since you've been dreading it all day, or you can go out and do whatever you feel like doing and forget about Monday's impending doom. I find the former quite enjoyable, except for the not sleeping at night part, but yesterday I did the latter and now I'm a bigger "doing stuff" proponent than ever.

I kicked off the morning...errrr, afternoon...with brunch with Drone. The place we went to wasn't so spectacular food- or pricewise, but hey we're suckers for overpriced egg dishes and outdoor seating. What made this brunch particularly enjoyable is that one of the two open tables on the crowded sidewalk was around the corner by the wait station, all by itself and thus secluded from the rest of the patrons. The only thing Drone and I love more than overpriced egg dishes and outdoor seating is avoiding interaction with others. Score.

After brunching it up with Drone, I subwayed it down to Soho for a little shopping with E. What was supposed to be a little shopping turned into an epic 15 store and 3 mile largely fruitless hunt for something awesome enough to justify spending a day or two's salary. This was okay though, because E and I had great fun barreling our way through the absurdly crowded, hot, smelly, and generally horrifying San Gennaro festival, discovering two great new (to us) stores, and consuming cuban sandwiches and beer in front of veiny-legged models outside of Cafe Habana Para Llevar. It was here that we were able to answer the eternal question, "Just how many models DOES it take to finish a small salad, and in how much time?" The answer: two, and in about 30 minutes. Though, to their credit, the air bubbles in that San Pellegrino are quite filling, indeed. "It feels like beer!"

After all the sweating and walking, E and I were drained, so we bought a bunch of magazines and a highly rated $6 bottle of red wine (because it was highly rated, of course.) We decided to complete the Girls' Night In theme by watching the Sex and the City episode in which SJP's acting particularly sucks and Charlotte first sleeps with hairy Harry (awwww.) Then when perusing the junky advertisement pages in the back of British Vogue, I happened upon the best hygeine product ever. Behold Retardex, a line of formulas and devices to combat even the worst case of halitosis, and you can get it in discreet packaging! Then I read Jane and Bust all the way home and slept happily ever after.