...mosquitoes Brasileiros

I'm running on more or less 2 days without sleep right now because these mother-bitching mosquitoes here are eating me alive. I understand it, everyone wants to try the new restaurant on the block, but it sucks when everyone's dine-n-dashing that bitch.

The favourite dish here? Clearly my feet. It's like these mother-bitches have a fucking foot fetish all up on me, and it's been like that in every part of the country: the South, here in Sao Paulo, the North and the Northeast. To be honest, I was actually really fucking happy returning to Sao Paulo before because it was the one place in this country that I didn't receive many customers. But I guess my new place is listed in the 6-legged directories because everybody's been coming for a visit these days.

And why the fuck my feet? I don't think I've ever dished a single plate of feet during my 25 years of life prior to Brazil. But they're all about it here. At the moment I have 3 big juicy bites on my feet (2 of them symmetrically opposed just next to my Achilles heel which I bet took the mother-bitches some effort). On the rest of my body, I've just one on my thumb and one on my leg.

Maybe it's because the mosquitoes here are racist and are forcefully trying to eject me from the country, maybe it's because I'm the exotic new plate on the block, maybe it's because there's an ancient mosquitoes' myth claiming that foreign blood protects against mosquito-prominent diseases like Malaria and the Avian Flu (not the Avion Flu, which doesn't exist according to the internets), but whatever it is, if I wake up next to my girl again and I have 18 mosquito bites and like usual she only has one, I think I'm going to have to bite her to even the score!

...break it Off

Hello gallery,

The other day I was asked by a friend about whether or not she should break it off with her boyfriend. As the caring and sensitive soul that I am, I responded like both a poet and a scholar (mind you, my response was in broken Portuguese, so there's a strong likelihood that she didn't quite get this message)... yeah.

The end of a relationship is like a boat on fire in the middle of the sea. If you jump, it sucks. But if you stay, it'll be worse. So jump.

And how did I know she was at the end of her rope? It's always the same: simply by her asking the question. "Should I stay with him/her?" is like asking "It hurts when I pee, do you think something's wrong?" There's a chance that it'll go away on its own, but really, something needs to be fucking done about it. Unlike my analogy, it's much easier to just cut a relationship off and fish for a new one. Your bits that pee on the other hand, I wouldn't suggest it.

But take my advice for what it's worth, I like being single and I'm not too keen on having children. Whatevs.

...surfers And

When I got here (if you don't know, I'm in Sao Paulo), I decided I'd go to the movies... alone. It was then that I learned Brazil doesn't play national movies, only American shit. I'm not saying that American movies are all bad, just that the really mainstream ones that make it here are. I ended up watching that shitty rehash of that Charlie Sheen and Michael Douglas movie about the investment bankers with Shoopy Leboff and a much older Michael Douglas. I was disappointed.

6 months has passed and I revisited the movies. I went to see a movie called Bruna Surfistinha which basically translates (in my head, anyways) to Bruna the Little Surfer. Guess what it was about...

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a prostitute. Fuck was I surprised.