An Ode to Sunday Afternoons

Sometimes I “write stuff down in my notebook” aka type it into my iPhone’s notes. And sometimes future Graz remembers to check those notes and use them to make himself seem funnier than he may be, or just for a bit of backup when the funniessness isn’t flowing like a young mans wet dream.

I think I may have set out at the start of that paragraph with a point but then I just whittle away at myself (and my journalistic integrity) with the pocket knife of obscurity until there is nothing left but a pile of no-purpose-right-now wood shavings. I hear a collective WTF. Well eff you. I’ve said it before and i shall reiterate; I have feelings too you know. Yep. In the old suitcase under the bed.

And now I’ll throw to a story about Sunday afternoons and how much I love them. I love them like Gina Reinhardt loves her money (not her children). I love them like the killer whale loves the fur seal pup (for dinner). Like there super model loves plastic surgery. Like Jewish peeps love bagels. Like the third world amputee l loves the educated western doctor. Like dogs love licking their junk. Like. Like. Did I go too far?

Sunday arvo is time for a beer. And watch the trees do nothing except enjoying their Sunday afternoon as well. Maybe a BBQ real soon cos that weather is starting to prime up like a hooker at 6pm on a Friday night. Or maybe some roast chook with awesome sides. Shit, have a ham sandwich. It’s do whatever you want time.

I generally work the lunch shift because it’s our busiest day of the week at the restaurant, but by 4pm I’m out of there, beer in hand, smile on my face, and I jump into my car and head off, wind in my hair a la Thelma and Louise. Except it’s just me, and I’m in a Honda CRV, and I’m a guy with a large red beard… But anyway, I’m detracting from my story.

Sunday is time for a beer. It’s a thirsty afternoon.

And if a little too much booze gets consumed who cares? I don’t have a problem with Monday’s. If Sunday arvo is the big poppa of the week Monday can be its pet Jack Russel. A bit yappy at a lot of people but nice to one or two. Well I’m one of those two.

And that’s about it.

So here’s to Sunday’s. Good work team. Good work

2 responses to “An Ode to Sunday Afternoons”

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