A “problem”? What do you mean “problem”? You’re drinking too, aren’t you? Ohhhh, okay, I get it. So, a mimosa is fine, but my triple whisky brunch is what you would call a “problem.”

Don’t “shhh” me, okay? No, I will not lower my voice. No, I’m not embarrassing myself, you’re embarrassing yourselves. Because I’m just a guy trying to enjoy his brunch and unwind with a few glasses of Maker’s Mark on the rocks, while you guys are totally out of line.

So what if we’ve only been here 45 minutes? I’ve been awake for almost two hours and it’s time to drink. Yeah, yeah, I don’t want to hear this, “We’re only saying something because we care” baloney. Shove it, Brianna, I’m trying to enjoy my whisky.

You know what? Suddenly I’m not so hungry for ricotta-stuffed french toast anymore. I don’t have to sit here and take this. You people sitting there no-so-silently judging me, sipping your fruity little mimosas, maybe take a look in the mirror or at the alcohol in front of each one of you.

Forget this, I’m outta here. I don’t want to be a “problem” for you any longer. Waiter? Sorry, I guess I have a “problem” that I have to take care of, so I have to go. Can I get a shot of Maker’s and the tab please?

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