The brunch Nazi
You are a brunch Nazi. Brunch is less about the experience and more about showing off: You know where to go, what to order and what places are so over. You’re not afraid to share the wealth of your knowledge (“You’re ordering that?”), even if nobody asked. Not surprisingly, brunch invitations are few and far between for you unless you’re organizing (and you’re always organizing).
The brunch pro
You're the brunch pro. An eternal optimist, brunch is totally your jam (and yay, you love jam!). You know what the ideal brunch order looks like—eggs, side of bacon, pancakes for the table, a multiplicity of beverages (water, coffee, mimosa)—and have friends at loads of restaurants in every borough. People like having you at their table, although friends have considered a brunchtervention.
The boozy bruncher
You, my friend, are the boozy bruncher. For you it doesn’t matter where you go as long as the drinks are flowing. Brunch is an opportunity to partake of morning cocktails without those condescending stares you get whenever you whip out a flask on the subway. (People are so judgy.) Life’s a party when you’re around (or the sad aftermath of one), and you can always be counted on to rally (eventually) if it means sneaking in a brewski before the day’s real drinking begins.
The no-fun bruncher
You’re the no-fun bruncher. You go to brunch only because your friends make you. Perpetually wary of butter-happy chefs, brunch provokes so much anxiety and obsessive-compulsion, it hardly seems worth it. You’re jealous of other people who seem unperturbed by the massive amount of calories they’re consuming. Very occasionally, the stars align and you can be counted on for a bonkers off-the-wagon brunch binge—but will probably require an extra session with your therapist that week to deal with it.
The “doesn’t really get brunch” bruncher
You’re the “doesn’t really get brunch” bruncher. To you, brunch seems to be a twee concoction for people too bored or boring to realize they’re really just eating breakfast. Or lunch. Either way, brunch is dumb. You’re happy to go along if you can get a delicious meal, but the culture of brunch, to you, seems a lame construction. You’re the guy who orders the least brunchy thing on the menu (who wants the salade Niçoise? This guy) because you don’t get why brunch automatically equals putting whipped cream on everything.
Possibly the most modern bruncher of them all, you’re the Hypester. More interested in documenting brunch than actually enjoying it, you check in on Foursquare as soon as you arrive, pick what you’re ordering based on what will photograph best on Instagram and make sure to live-tweet your brunch to all your loyal followers. Because you spend most of the meal buried in your phone, you don’t realize how much your friends hate you. Ignorance is bliss for you, friend.