A brunch that takes place in a bar, with high emphasis on morning beer/bloody mary/screwdriver/mimosas and minimal attention on overpriced unfilling dairy products
A slang term usually aimed at American Democrat voters (generally those who are upper middle class or rich) who care more about being mildly inconvenienced by not being able to go to brunch than they do about people who aren't as better off as them.
The term originated during the Women's March on Washington in 2017, where several white women held up signs that said "If Hillary were president, we'd be at brunch."
"In American politics you can be one of three people: The Millionaire, The poor Republican/Democrat, or the Brunch Democrat. No one likes the Brunch Democrat."
"BGB" for short, this is a phenomenon which occurs generally on Sundays but may happen on a Saturday. It starts with the idea of cooking brunch, but balloons out of control with a mini-party of anywhere between 5-15 people in the kitchen cooking, blasting music and dancing. The actual food itself becomes a distraction as it's more important to be in the dance cage at this point drinking straight from the champagne bottle that was originally meant for classy mimosas. Most people call out of work the next day.
Gathering of homogeneously haircut homosexual white bottoms celebrating their progress and privilege over an all you can drink event ironically billed as "bottomless."
The unfortunate situation that arises when you’re working Brunch at the local po-boy shack and it’s almost 100° outside and the sweat drips down the small of your back inevitably accumulating in your butt crack. The only way to provide relief to this uncomfortable predicament is to dust the crack of your ass with the powdered sugar from the beignet station, thus absorbing the sweat and providing some small bit of relief as you continue to roast in the Louisiana sun.
1. HOT DAMN BRAH!! My ass is swampy like the Bartholomew Bayou, we got ourselves a New Orleans Hot Brunch today!
2. Person one: “Who dat say dey gonna beat dem Saints?”
Person two: “Who gives a flying fuck? Pass the powdered sugar because it’s a god damn New Orleans Hot Brunch in my pants right now.”