Que Pena!
Thursday, January 13, 2005 • Posted by jcb
Inundated with a recent spate of depressed reader emails, work at the editorial offices of further.com at Rua Prudente de Moraes, nº 1415 has ground to a halt. Not wanting our dear readers to succumb to depression due to the serendipitous life seen unfolding on the pages of further.com, the editors resolve to paint a more accurate picture of life on the ground. But I ask you dear reader. Do you really want to know the dirt? You want us out here living the mythic dream, No? Isn’t it more fun to pretend the sun always shines down here, the women all look like Gisele [she’s actually in town this week at my fav hotel], and the days bleed into one other blissfully unaware of the stresses and complications of Northern Hemisphere living. I guess you know better than I. So have at it. The shit just hit the fan this week. Our prime ocean front property deal blew up in our faces in a fashion similar to that galling little blue smurf seen passing out exploding packages to the other addle brained smurfs. Can you guess which role we played? Back to square one. Our days have been filled with five hours of intensive portuguese instruction followed by a quick bite at the local lanchonette stand for some fried whatever…
Once again satiated it’s off on another game of Brazilian scavenger hunt. The rules are simple. You need something from the Brazilian government, business or whomever. You go to said locale to procure said item with all the necessary documents relayed to you over the telephone by the always helpful receptionist one hour earlier. You arrive. “Sir this is not an notarized copy of the copy, I’m sorry please return next week” Whereupon you procure said notarized document and return, charming as ever, the following week only to discover the hours have been changed. Returning once again at the newly instated hours the receptionist promptly tells you your stamps are not in order or some such thing… and on and on the game is played. In other related bitching, it’s so hot we need to go out every night to quench our thirst at the local watering hole. Witzy’s rash is getting better thanks for all the thoughtful cards and letters. Also the napkins suck down here. Wax paper is not absorbent people. Oh, I also screwed you guys royally. Witz and I went to a samba school rehearsal two days ago but I forgot my camera. Sorry it would have made a great post. I am sure we’ll drop in on another so look out for it. I think my hearing is just recovering. [Actman, Witzy’s two point game is improving. It should, now that he has a shot at the show]
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Posted by: drew at January 13, 2005 09:52 PM
when you guys Samba - who leads? ****neophyte miamilander*** You might be confusing the Brazilian Samba school with the “american samba school” where spindly legged white boys [like us] trot in clutching wads of cash in hopes of laying it down in exhange for putting a little latin swing in their step. Brasilian Samba School is not for teaching. Much like a Mardi Gras Krewe the Brasilian Samba School holds rehearsals open to the public before Carnivale. Read and see further my friend.
Posted by: yomama at January 14, 2005 12:36 PM
Tes aventures me rappellent ma douce France, sans le foulard, bien sû et heureusement. Je suis en train de lire le dernier de Fallaci et je t’envie d’être dans un si beau pays quoique là où je suis, ce n’est pas mal.
Gros Bisous
Posted by: evil at January 14, 2005 03:18 PM
so that’s where you’ve been hiding….
i don’t understand the deal with the rubber stamps and shit. just slip a US$20 in an envelope and graciously hand it over to said receptionist. jeez, do i need to do all the thinking for you two knuckleheads.
these people can feed their families for 6 years on an extra $20!!!!
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