Ms. Purple & Ms. Blue: Schnorrers straight out of Reservoir Dogs.
It is not normally my procedure to use this blog for settling purely personal scores, but in this case I might make an exception.
Actually, I mean both
to settle somebody else's personal score, on behalf of a good friend, and at the same time derive more provisional NMM-Brasil Maxims for the Martian enterprise anthropologist looking to do business on Planet Brazil.
Beware the aggressively friendly Brazilian
In my experience, Brazilians who take a long time to warm up to you, and tend to treat you with icy correctness, as if they are willing to put up with your but do not like you and never will, are more likely to turn out to be gente fina
with a mens sana in corpore sano
in the end.
Not always. But it is starting to turn into a release-candidate rule of thumb.
We had a really great, relatively quitely little New Year's bash at Sasá's apartment over by Astor, an Italian cantina
frequented by Globo soap opera actors, right here in the neighborhood this year.
From our house, you just walk up the hill, past that scary-looking house with the Rottweiler and armored gates spraypainted "kokka da vila é nossa" -- but Neuza always says not to worry, so I try not to -- until you get to that lovely corner where the Capim Santo restaurant used to be.
Sasá, remembering all that Jose Cuervo I had treated her to when she slept on our couch in Brooklyn that time, was even so kind as to stock up on Famous Grouse, knowing that I am a Brechtian-Morrisonian (Van) whiskey-bar man.
At one point, I do believe that the grrrrls were offering to stuff onças
-- R$50 notes -- into my cuecas
as I worked out to "Street Fightin' Man" ...
Just a small gathering of friends and former lovers sleeping with friends and, incongruously, one big fat Zebu Cavaco. Our intimate crowd. A better bunch of crazy mixed-up human beings you could not find. We love them.
Then Ms. Purple and Ms. Blue arrived.Read more »