9 a.m. Wake and bake, bitch!
9:15 a.m. Ponder the importance and significance of Cinco de Mayo for the millions of Mexican-Americans living in this country.
9:16 a.m. LOL JK shotgun a beer, amigo!
9:20 a.m. Take a moment of gratitude for the fact that your wife got up early to go to Soul Cycle and brunch with her friend Jessica. Take another moment of gratitude for Jessica’s tits.
9:30 a.m. Nap.
10:30 a.m. Wake and bake again, bitch!
10:45 a.m. Call Sully and tell him to stop being such a pussy and come over.
11 a.m. Shotgun a beer with Sully (he lives in the next high rise over on the Williamsburg waterfront, so it didn’t take him long to get there).
11:15 a.m. Stare deep into Sully’s eyes and wonder what it might be like, just once, to kiss his thin, pale lips.
11:30 a.m. Put on your croakies and go to the bar — for brunch! You’re 35, after all. If you’re going to get fucked up in the morning, it’s going to involve chilaquiles.
11:45 a.m. Think about taking your wedding ring off. Keep it on because you’re already so fucked up that thought evaporated immediately.
12:30 p.m. Poorly tip your Mexican-American waitress at the Mexican immigrant-owned restaurant you just dined in.
12:45 p.m. Meet Tucker and Stiffy at that BBQ joint.
1:00 p.m. Get (more) fucked up with your boyz.
1:30 p.m. Notice a hot girl across the bar.
1:45 p.m. Notice that hot girl is looking at you. Fail to notice she’s looking at you with disgust.
2 p.m. Ask your bros if you should approach the hot girl, or if you should stay away since she’s clearly with another man.
2:05 p.m. After your bros have assured you the other man is most definitely her dad and that she would love nothing more than to leave her celebratory Cinco de Mayo lunch with father and sister to go fuck you, a married stranger, approach the hot girl.
2:06 p.m. Use your best line: “I got us an Uber so we can go home.” Make sure you slur it real good.
2:07 p.m. After she (and her father and sister) laugh in your face, wander back over to your bros. Talk about how that Mexican bitch isn’t even hot anyway.
2:08 p.m. Fail to remember you have a wife.
2:10 p.m. Order shots because you know what this holiday is all about: getting fucked up on tequila.
2:30 p.m. Punch someone. It doesn’t matter who.
3 p.m. Wake and bake, bitch! It’s more fun when you do it after passing out on the sidewalk.
3:30 p.m. Remember that horse race is today and you bet your entire retirement fund on the one that looked like it had the biggest dick.
4 p.m. Go to a horse bar. Or a bar with horses. Or a bar that’s showing the horse race. Or a horse stable. Something about horses.
4:30 p.m. Steal a sombrero from a small Mexican-American child.
4:45 p.m. Puke on your boat shoes.
5 p.m. Get to the bar for horses and see a familiar face. Who is that woman? She looks like a bitch.
5:01 p.m. Remember you were supposed to meet your wife here. The bitch is your wife.
5:02 p.m. Say hi to your wife.
5:03 p.m. Remember your wife isn’t a bitch — you’re a soft little bitch for your wife. Sure, you cheat on her every chance you get (very few, not for lack of trying), but what would you do without her — your dishes? No thanks.
5:15 p.m. Drink your wife’s mint julep.
5:30 p.m. Go to the bathroom. Pass out in the stall.
6:30 p.m. Wake up in the bathroom. Remember you have cocaine. Snort all of it.
7 p.m. Horses?
7:30 p.m. Your wife is yelling.
8 p.m. Everyone is so mad at you — even Sully.
8:30 p.m. Tequila?
9 p.m. Stumble down the street. See a Mexican flag. Pee on it. What’s with all the Mexico anyway?
9:15 p.m. Mmm Mexico. Steal a burrito from a Mexican street vendor. Get three paces away before passing out again.
9:18 p.m. Wake up to see the Mexican street vendor yelling at you. Puke.
9:30 p.m. Get on the L.
10:30 p.m. Wake up in Canarsie.
11 p.m. Walk out to the water. There’s water in Canarsie?
11:01 p.m. What is Canarsie?
11:02 p.m. Pass out on the beach.
11:15 p.m. Wake up suddenly. Remember everything that’s happened today: you got wasted, you did drugs, you tried to cheat on your wife, you lost your retirement fund, you abandoned your wife, you stole, you punched some random guy, you stole again, you passed out so, so many times, you ruined your Sperrys — and what was it all for? Was it all in commemoration of Mexico beating the French empire during the Battle of Puebla? Were you celebrating the long tradition of Mexicans in this great country which you so badly want to Make Great Again? Are you really into horses? No, no and no. You were observing the great American pastime of getting fucked up, dude. The next Cinco de Derby Day won’t be until 2029, so you had to go extra hard — and you did.
11:30 p.m. Get back on the L.
11:45 p.m. Decide to go to Sully’s and sleep on his couch all day tomorrow. You have to rest up, after all, because the day after tomorrow is another big holiday: Melanoma Monday. And you know what that means, bro — it’s time to get fucked up!