blog will be so obsolete soon

Im going to say that everytime im like HEY READERS why dont you tell me somethin i get 0 comments and I know whose bitch i am.

BUT, lets just chat, favorite memories of me and my life in brazil.

Mine was when i was a baller with money goin to clubs, Mase circa late-90s style (pre-Reverand).

edit: I also wanted to reiterate that blogger sucks and google can choke to death.

An Epic on a Cellular Level

@ptarmiganmusic (Peter Marting) shared this gem with me. And as I will be leaving Brazil soon (word), it's important I start the transition from travel blog to awesome blog. For instance, this video. Skip to 3:13 for the money-est of money...but the first 3 minutes are more educational and equally great.

Favorite way to kill a mosquito

I've killed many mosquitos here in Curitiba. Probably near 100. It's been a slow process, perfecting my craft, but I've found my favorite, both clean and high in satisfaction. Highest in satisfaction was using a coke bottle as a bat. You could hear the pop when they hit, and the best was when you saw them fly across the room.

However, this tended to have them end up on the walls. Which led to the least satisfactory and worst in cleanliness, hitting them against the wall. Blood spots, black goo. I used to leave their decaying bodies on the wall as scarecrows but I stopped.

But for the last month...you grab them with your fist and slam them down onto the bed. They don't explode, they just die.

And you flick them hard to some place you won't see.

The perfect answer

I don't think I've ever enjoyed an answer more, shit's on the real. From dearcoketalk :

I would consider myself an artist; to be specific, a painter, and attend art school, however I feel like I’m not doing enough. I do what I’m assigned, and truly do feel deeply passionate about the work I produce. There is no question in my mind that this is what I want to pursue for the rest of my life. But the problem is, unless I’m specifically what to do, I find myself too lazy to take the initiative to work on my own. Instead I will peruse the Internet for hours, or spend time viewing the work of other artists. I watch TV shows I don’t even like, and I stay up until I’m exhausted; even if I don’t have anything that is assigned for the next day. I’m one of those girls who loooooves to sleep and yet I push myself to stay awake until 1 or 2 in the morning to wake up at 6 the next day for absolutely no reason.

I suppose the real question here is, is there any way to change ones work ethic? I feel like there is so much I could be doing, but I’m too lazy to take the initiative. I feel psychologically compelled to not do work that I’m not assigned, or without a deadline (and even then I will procrastinate).

I’ve discussed this issue with a friend and she says to consider taking anti-depressent / anti-anxiety medication (or something like that at least) to help me concentrate and get me out of this rut, but I’m a little bit wary of those types of drugs and how they might affect the way I paint, write, and think.

Are pills the only sort of “cure” for laziness? Or is there something that I can do to change myself? Or is it something I was born with and is unfixable?

You’re not depressed. You’re just a spoiled brat. That is to say, you don’t need anti-depressant or anti-anxiety medication. Not really. Yeah, there is no pill for what you need.

If you insist on a chemical solution, I suppose you could always start smoking crystal meth. That would definitely get you up and buzzing around, but then again it comes with all those side effects.

The next closest thing would be prescription for Ritalin, but add that to all your apathy and art school, and you’d just turn into one big hipster cliche.

Anyways, if it seems like I’m phoning this answer in, it’s because I really don’t care what you do.

That’s pretty much the lesson you need to learn here. Nobody cares what you do. You’re probably a shitty painter anyways, and there’s a legion of infinitely more talented artists already starving in New York. You should just quit now before you waste any more of your parent’s money.

You can consider yourself an artist all day long, but who are you kidding? You’re not one. You’re just a lazy cunt that goes to art school who wouldn’t know a real problem if it knocked you up after a Bright Eyes concert.

If you want a career in the art world, fine — every gallery needs a receptionist — but don’t pretend to be something that you’re not. Writers write. Sculptors sculpt. Painters paint. Real artists have a burning desire to create.

You either do it or you don’t.

Running out the clock

I hit my last week in Curitiba. I quit my job on Friday. I take a bus this weekend or next monday for Indaiatuba, Ana's mothers.

Many times when I've quit a job, those last days you feel like, "hey this place isn't so bad. I'm gonna miss x and x"

And this is sort of happening. It's also not. I'm really anxious to go home, also really anxious to leave for Indaiatuba. But there is a lot here I'm going to miss. Some alunos and my friends. I will really, really miss Bel, Bela, Mari and Dani.

Last night, I went to a BBQ for Melina's bday. It was great. Per typical, the first hour is me just kind of sitting, looking at the food. But the more alcohol, the more conversations happen. And the food. Vinaigrete stuffed into french bread rolls. So much meat, cooked perfectly, and cut into little strips so you have no idea how much you ate, but really i probably took down like 2 steaks on the realz. And add sausages coated in faraffa. I was really happy to have a churrasco before I left - and it's process is wonderful. Contrary to an american bbq where you will eat 2 burgers and a hot dog all at once, I really enjoy the process of eating a little bit at a time over the process of hours - the food constantly bringing people together.

And sitting around the hookah, as people talk to me about my last week. Almost universally, people were so understanding of my trouble learning the language, and so patient as I try and patch together my words (which looks and sounds painful, they come out in different volumes and tones, and are nearly always mispronounced).

I want to come back, get a proper carnaval, see all that I did not. There's so much more to see than Curitiba, and with the way everyone talks shit on the people of Curitiba I have to imagine it'll be a much different experience.

And finally as a really strange cap to the night, I had the longest conversation with a 7 year old precocious little girl. With her father working in England, she spoke perfect english, like no accent - actually, a British accent. And we talked about disney land, and the funny thing, with the british accent you feel a little bit intellectually inferior until she mentions being "pARtickkkulahhhly scared by big thundah mountin". Then you realize, pssh, that rollercoaster is weak sauce.

Sup dudes.

pinochioooogod

I went to the food court today to get some food.

As I walked through the doors, some loud awful music was playing. I looked towards the huge crowd. The song "Elevation" was playing by U2, and a man was having a puppet dance to the song. Puppet dancin to U2 had like, 80 onlookers.

Today

I got off the bus and was walking off the platform when through one of the open something hit me in the chest. I look down and it's a baby shoe, a bootie. Someone had thrown it at me.

Then someone yelled something I didn't understand.

And I was thinking "I just got George Bush'd?"

Someone then touched my arm and started saying things, so I picked up the shoe and handed it to him.

Pretty analogous to my trip in Brazil.

Yours Truly

Yours Truly, wonderfully addressed as http://yourstru.ly , is an awesome Web site. Beautifully themed, focused, and featuring a bunch of gorgeous videos. It makes me want to move to San Francisco and act like I'm a part of something. I have a friend who lives there already, any how. The rest is all sell-your-car, take-out-your-savings, drink-alone.

From Yours Truly, The morning benders:

Yours Truly Presents: The Morning Benders "Excuses" from Yours Truly on Vimeo.

Don't you dare fall apart

The importance of this activity with others cannot be underestimated. I have 2 bottles of Cab though, and am gonna break my duck and watch as many OC episodes as possible. From the aforementioned Tribes and Castes of India Vol. 1 via the Gutenberg Project

66. Living and eating together.

When the members of the totem-clan who lived together recognised that they owed something to each other, and that the gratification of the instincts and passions of the individual must to a certain degree be restrained if they endangered the lives and security of other members of the clan, they had taken the first step on the long path of moral and social progress. The tie by which they supposed themselves to be united was quite different from those which have constituted a bond of union between the communities who have subsequently lived together in the tribe, the city-state and the country. These have been a common religion, common language, race, or loyalty to a common sovereign; but the real bond has throughout been the common good or the public interest. And the desire for this end on the part of the majority of the members of the community, or the majority of those who were able to express their opinions, though its action was until recently not overt nor direct, and was not recognised, has led to the gradual evolution of the whole fabric of law and moral feeling, in order to govern and control the behaviour and conduct of the individual in his relations with his family, neighbours and fellow-citizens for the public advantage. The members of the totem-clan would have been quite unable to understand either the motives by which they were themselves actuated or the abstract ideas which have united more advanced communities; but they devised an even stronger bond than these, in supposing that they were parts or fractions of one common body or life. This was the more necessary as their natural impulses were uncontrolled by moral feeling. They conceived the bond of union in the concrete form of eating together. As language improved and passing events were recorded in speech and in the mind, the faculty of memory was perhaps concurrently developed. Then man began to realise the[139]insecurity of his life, the dangers and misfortunes to which he was subject, the periodical failure or irregularity of the supply of food, and the imminent risks of death. Memory of the past made him apprehensive for the future, and holding that every event was the result of an act of volition, he began to assume an attitude either of veneration, gratitude, or fear towards the strongest of the beings by whom he thought his destinies were controlled—the sun, moon, sky, wind and rain, the ocean and great rivers, high mountains and trees, and the most important animals of his environment, whether they destroyed or assisted to preserve his life. The ideas of propitiation, atonement and purification were then imparted to the sacrifice, and it became an offering to a god.157 But the primary idea of eating or drinking together as a bond of union was preserved, and can be recognised in religious and social custom to an advanced period of civilisation.

Jude's such a pimp

""Now we are well together, dear, aren't we?" he observed.
"Yes," said she; adding to herself: "Rather mild!"
"How fast I have become!" he was thinking."

Sigh, he's gonna impregnate her.

Melon Collie and the Infinite Sadness

Sigggh. Today something happened where I realized I'm not the saddest person in the world, awwwweeeeeeeee!!! Remember that whole interest rates post I had that lead to a brawl with my brother in the comments section? I do, it's about two posts down, and was more of a miscommunication about what I had a problem with. Anyway, that whole post started because of a class I had with a student who's a banker here, here in Brazil. Today I had another class with him and was about to go all "So what do you think about the Greece bailout, and the problems of Latvia? Fuck the euro, right?" and then, I get to the front desk. And she smiles and is like, what up, and I say "Eu tenho uma aula com xx" and they all cheer because they know how much I suck.

And so she calls up and makes that scrunched up "I am confused face" and tells me to wait.

And then she hands me the headset phone, which is always uncomfortable, and a voice on the other line tells me the dude is no longer working there. Yeesh. Poor guy had already been dumped a few months ago, and he ain't gettin any younger. So I just was like uhh, he, he..u.m. I left for home. No work for me!

------
I had SOOO much food at "China Food" today. I ate until I was keeled over sick and questioned whether this tendency to go from incredibly hungry to gut bustingly full is the best idea. It clearly isn't b/c I had to sleep for like four hours and just woke up and realized another day is gone. Sat-Tues. is Carnaval. I'm guessing I just won't write anything for those days to give you the idea that I'm going crazy with a bunch of naked people, but really am stuck in this god forsaken town.

Sadly I just had a dream I won the lottery for a million dollars and had such precious observations like "With a million dollars I get can an apartment!"

JUDGE BREAD

I cannot go to sleep before 4 a.m. which is all nice, and silly, when I have nighttime committments but when I have to be up at 6 a.m. it is a bit of a bother. Last night for 2 hours I couldn't stop thinking about the time I went to a C-level pro-wrestling circuit match with my bud James Hinz in 3rd great that happened to snag Sgt. Slaughter. Halfway through he invited all the kids in the ring, and in my confused, heroic state I thought for sure we were to wrestle him. As I stretched out on the ropes and hopped up and down I thought "man for man we are weak, but in numbers: WE ARE STRONG" and we were to go all "WOLVERINES!" on him, but it turns out he was just a nice sgt. lettin the kids in the cockpit.

And class is so long when I am that tired but I get home and am finally awake, but I'm like 4 hrs. from the first news stories and my eyes are in no kinda shape to read on my computer, so I just keep checking twitter hoping roger ebert gives me some good one liners.

But today I went to the market and bought some french bread rolls. And the bags had steam on them they were cooked so recently. I was drooling on my long walk home, giddy as a school boy. I ate four rolls already, and there are still 6 more!

But yeah, even though I'm finally awake my room smells so I'm gonna take a nap just to avoid that for a few sweet hours.

Learning something

I imagine that it would be a lonely existence when you can only eat dinner and fraternize with the other sweeper in town.

From The Tribes and Castes of the Central Province of India (Vol. 1):

In the ethnographic description of the people of the Punjab, which forms the Caste chapter of Sir Denzil Ibbetson’s Census Report of 1881, it was pointed out that occupation was the chief basis of the division of castes, and there is no doubt that this is true. Every separate occupation has produced a distinct caste, and the status of the caste depends now mainly or almost entirely on its occupation. The fact that there may be several castes practising such important callings as agriculture or weaving does not invalidate this in any way, and instances of the manner in which such castes have been developed will be given subsequently. If a caste changes its occupation it may, in the course of time, alter its status in a corresponding degree. The important Kāyasth and Gurao castes furnish instances of this. Castes, in fact, tend to rise or fall in social position with the acquisition of land or other forms of wealth or dignity much in the same manner as individuals do nowadays in European countries. Hitherto in India it has not been the individual who has undergone the process; he inherits the social position of the caste in which he is born, and, as a rule, retains it through life without the power of altering it. It is the caste, as a whole, or at least one of its important sections or subcastes, which gradually rises or falls in social position, and the process may extend over generations or even centuries.

Brazil and Interest Rates and FUN!

Today I had class with a banker. His office was 16 flights up, and the elevator was down (see that word play?) Anyways, I get up, tired, panting, and then had a fascinating class where he finally illuminated me on all the Brazilian fiscal policy and it's effect on their consumerism. Now, I don't have any classical knowledge of finance, only personal curiosity. However, I find it in interesting case. Brazil has been growing at a 5% GDP rate like clockwork for years, re-opening the joke "Brazil is always the country of the future." Brazil also has had many bouts with out-of-control inflation in the past. They also have a population that appears to me to be completely ready to buy their fridges, microwaves, cars, etc. This is all very much like China, however, obviously unlike China their economy is not as centrally planned.

The interest rate in Brazil is 8.75%. I asked if this was the bank lending rate or consumer lending rate and I didn't understand what he said, but it wouldn't really matter anyway as I'll get into. So, 8.75 is really high. By the end of the year, he said that it would likely be pushed up to 10%. The main and overriding concern of Brazil's central bank is inflation, as it should be. In fact, the whole country takes it's cues from the inflation rate rather than GDP growth. Workers unions, for instance, have inflation adjusted pay. If they predict 4% inflation, that's what their pay will be adjusted. However, if it turns out it was 6%, they will strike until their pay is fixed.

Anyways, the strange thing isn't really high inflation, that was expected. But the consumer habits in Brazil are quite odd. When I first arrived I was always thrown off by the pay-by-installment plans that were used for almost every item. I looked at shoes and thought R$50 sounds reasonable until you realize it's 50x4. Almost everything is financed, toasters, microwaves, etc. So, many stores are making most profit off of the interest.

The peculiar thing is that the interest rates they are selling these at is huge. I was told it was often at 30%. But, when you have the poor and middle class peoples who want these things: home appliances, electronics, etc. but can't afford them, they go into the store and the salesman make a deal. 'Okay, what can you pay? $20/mo? You pay $20/mo for 72 months and you have yourself a TV." Absurd right? Again, it was explained, that the worst part is that many people are not even aware of the interest rate, they have no idea they are paying 30% on the installments because of 2 factors: 1) Lack of consumer knowledge 2) There didn't really seem to be effective consumer protection laws.

And it's especially worth noting that electronics and many things are much more expensive in Brazil. So adding in the interest rates, on top of the high cost, they are paying so much more for a microwave. Microwaves are like $20 in the US. And mainly, what I couldn't understand is why then paying by credit card would not be more popular, as you could pay it up front and only be paying 13% on the month. And it seemed to me that he was implying it was easier. For the lower classes with little education, they don't understand interest rates, credit cards, etc, but they do understand someone saying that if they pay him $5 a month they can take home the toaster now.

Ultimately, I find it odd that there wouldn't be a greater movement for consumer education. They would have so much more purchasing power if they weren't continually paying for dozens of months at a huge interest rate. But, I suppose I have to wonder if the government even cares, as they already need to restrict this as seen by 10% interest rates, and this lets them do it by merely burdening the poorest classes. Always an easy option.

But it's always worth stepping back and realizing that was a lost decade for much of the western world has been the best of times in the developing world. All of this growth and this, before Brazil has even really begun production of their oil fields.

Also, write in my damn comment box. And, correct me if i'm wrong on things.

Ideas...

I like the thought of eating ice cream with a knife as intimidation. A conversation I had, he preferred to stay anonymous to avoid getting the hobo in trouble. He was serious:

anon: i had a hobo buy me gin yesterday

Ben Magnuson: nice haha

anon: motherfucker gouged me though sonnn. ha. and he was trippin so hard about the cops

Ben Magnuson: obviously

anon: unnecessarily though

Ben Magnuson: he's a hobo dude ain't no shame in hustlin

anon: i went to give him the cash and hes like WHOA COOL IT wait a second and then made me walk with him to the bus stop and do some james bond shit you knwo hand off the money all secretively
anon: then he comes back by and just drops the bottle and keeps walkin hahah

Ben Magnuson: hahaha
Ben Magnuson: haha that's fuckin great.

anon: yeah it was funny. sketch though man his fuckin homie was standin there next to me eatin a pint of ice cream with a knife

Ben Magnuson: hahahahaha
Ben Magnuson: i love this story it keeps getting better

anon: and santa cruz has like a shitload of stabbings. especially downtown. rapes too but i wasnt really trippin on that

Ben Magnuson: hahahahaha

What's on the menu toniiitte??

Today I ordered french bread rolls. Huge deal. See I can pick up meat that is individually wrapped and hanging on a hook no problem. Same with bread. If it's in a basket, I pick it up. Don't even think twice. However, in many of the places I frequent for food nowadays they need me to order the meat and bread from behind a counter. This keeps me from ordering them. But today, I was like, okay, "cinco pão de frances" and she gave me six, originally, and I was like okay. BUT SUCCESS.

I had money for food because Bel lent me some dough for the weekend. This is because yesterday when I was paid, the total was less than my rent. A full month's pay was less than my rent. I was eating one sandwich a day for a week and I was living beyond my means.

But we'll work it out right? Love me.

Went to the store and bought me some:

1 mango

1 avocado

3 tomatoes

3 onions

1 garlic thing

2 limes (should have bought moar)

1 bag of mushroom risotto

2 chicken breasts

1 2 litre of guarana

5 rolls of stuff

ham

cheese

SOOOO super salad? I was thinking avocado, tomato, onion, and then the risotto and making garlic lime chicken. But maybe the mango would be good in the salad too? What do you think?

livejournal entry

My stomach's been hurtin since sunday and today i tried to self diagnose it thru wikipedia, and everyone at work is against meeee.

Which reminds me. Back when I was 7 or so, I was at my mom's friends house. The friend had a kid, a boy. I'm in his room and he has a 2pac poster with the words "me against the world" from his song, you know. And I said "Who is 2pac?" and he told me: "2pac is this rapper, who feels like it's him against the world."

He totally nailed him. Me and 2pac have a lot in common. Stickups. Common life themes. yep.

FebruRAAARRRRRy

Today, I went to school at 7 a.m. I quickly check the room listings, and rush to meet my dudestudent. He's there, we begin. He says : I thought I was doing level 3. I was like "Uhh, welll I'm sure I saw level 2... uhh" and I went to check. And then they told me I was in the wrong room.

heh.
heh.
heh.

:(

Passion of the Fruit

What a title, huh? Solely created because I had passion fruit the other day. And I mixed it with condensed milk, the problem, of course, is that has way too much lactose for me, and i was keeled over dying, it was as if i had ovaries. So disappointing. The passionfruitwasgoodthough.

On one of my walks to school a few weeks ago, I caught myself having this weird chant in my head going over and over, and it went :

"I hate hobos clap clap clapclapclap"

And I thought "Jesus how long have I been doing this?" You've been doing it for 4 blocks "Jesus why am is a second party answering my own questions in MY OWN HEAD?" eu não sei

But every time I stop thinking, the i hate hobos chant re-emerges. But, it's true, i do hate hobos. To prevent another robbery I've began profiling. Anyone:

-With rubber flip flops

-Cut off tees

-Greasy hair

-Funny walk

-no shoes

-Two different shoes

will not be walking near me. The cut-off tees are no sure sign of a hobo, but they are in general intimidating. Shoes are the key, if they are in rubber flip flops (besides me) = hobo. If they have lame shoes = hobo. And also if they have puke dripping all over their beard hopping on one foot = hobo. Sometimes the hobos touch my arms. If only I chanted out loud.

I've been generally pissed of at you recently.

Somebody stole my boiling pot in the kitchen yesterday. I blew through so much money on wine the past week, that i have like no money. I also loaned money to the american at the school - because I'm charitable. Anyway all the food i have left needs to be boiled. I speak much better portuguese which is less helpful while I'm in my "want to kill everyone" mood.

But I get paid on Friday.I'mwithcoco.

I used to have allyson to speak to, and I was worried when she was in a bad mood/laying in bed all day, but now that she's up and about, I realize it put MY staying in bed all day drinking wine seem average. I walk with my fists clenched and stare down everyone while walking.

I'm a damn good teacher, though. When I got evaluated, they gave me all like "meets expectations" and one "needs to work on", but then they wouldn't be advertising their native speaker to their students. I have a number of students requesting me, the business students like me because i have some knowledge of business and can increase their vocab. All others like me because listening to me helps - and I talk. But recently i began teaching a student who has zero english, and i teach her in only english, and it works. I'm amazing.

AROIHDIFHOSUIDVBNOSHER:LAJSR:IOHSODUFNVOLUENLFSIHDRIOAHERINFDOCUSBNEOIHTLAJRIOSNV

For Today

I might write a long blog post.

But for now, I just post this link:
http://www.newyorker.com/fiction/features/2009/12/14/091214fi_fiction_wallace

I love this story, I love love love this story.

Where's my shnookumssss

THERE HE ISSSSSSS

Saturday I bought things that I thought were needed to make beef stroganoff and 2 bottles of wine. One bottle was disgusting. The other was good. Anyway, it turns out I BOUGHT EXACTLY WHAT I NEEDED! And then I ate that stuff for a good 20 minutes. And today I finished it off. Also, I'm aware you can see my left nipple...it's like a seinfeld episode. Anyway, the recipe
Stroganoff:
1 cup of bravery
1/2 TSP of fairness
2 bottles of wine

BOOM! Dinner.

Where have I been?

WHERE HAVE I BEEN?

Internets been out at the pensionato. I was on a roll bloggin, though.

But I didn't come here to update you. I came here to say I have two bottles of wine and am listening to raekwon. And that's a good day for anyone.

Regrets...

Sigh, everyone's wordpress blog is so much cleaner and nicer than my stupid blogspot blog. Google is just one disappointment after the next until you just wish flanders was dead. :(

also who the hell is this VilenessFats character and why won't they just tell me what to like so I won't just be confused! --> http://www.last.fm/music/Ptarmigan

KARMAWARS

Okay, so yes, I am indeed a little bit more fragile and frightened when I walk the streets, dudes, i don't HAVE a phone to GIVE anymore! So tonight, in celebrating Allyson's return to online social glory! (i.e. the lone social interacting I get during the day), I made room in my budget for six beers. (R$6.80) MMMHMM. So I walk to the supermarket, never keeping on the same side of the street...try hitting a moving target now betches!

Grab that beer and paid, and on the walk back, doing the same moving target practices, a man in a wheelchair waves me down. And no joke, this same man in a wheel chair I had encountered before - the day I was deported. He needed a push up the bus ramp, but I immediately said "Nao falo Portugues" and he was like :*( - But this time, despite my first reaction being you cannot get robbed by a cripple but I heard him out, motioned "oh you want me to push you?"...

Dude needed help a hill, and I pushed that man up that hill. And I realized, I neglected this poor man before and what happened? I got deported! I got robbed! Now that I helped him? Well, we are dealing with forces greater than me. But I assume some fat cellphone is gonna fall in my lap, and then some really pretty shamwife.SHamwIfesthenewShamWOWlolz.

GODBLESS

Robbed: Real and Thugged out versions

Perhaps I was showing hubris. Last night I told my sister-in-law I was too quick to get robbed. Today I got robbed. Luckily, I got robbed by a dumb-as-shit crackhead.

Real Version:

On a rainy afternoon, I walked out of my house to go check my schedule, the whole ordeal turned out to be pointless as I'd have no classes again tomorrow. But the rain was important, though a normally busy 5:30 p.m., the streets were pretty bare. I was walking with my headphones in, the wire tucked underneath my jacket. I walk pretty fast and don't stop for requests for anything. Anyway, towards the end of the street a crackheadhobo rounds the corner and heads for the light post where trash is thrown out. This seemed normal, they rummage through the trash for recycling. Except right as I start to walk past he gets in front of me, "seu cellular, seu cellular" I try to walk past and he lifts up his shirt, knife underneath, so I grab the cell and hand it over, and he motions to keep walking. I fumbled a bit, so this exchange was like 10 seconds long. Unbelievable that there were no walkers on either sides, but indeed many a cars.

But the whole time I had my fucking headphones in connected to an ipod touch. Yeah. And a wallet. And the dude took the cheapest thing on me next to my keychain (don't get me wrong though it's pretty rad, it's a bottle opener/nail clipper given to me by AL!!! In fact this probably is used by me more often considering my cell had 0 credits, and was being shut off due to inactivity tomorrow, but, cells are expensive and simcards are not). But why would he be this dumb? Most people listen to music on their cellys, and I think he thought that's what I was using and tried to make it quick, this was pretty damn visible. Or he was just a dumb fucking piece of shit crackhead.

So yeah, deepest apologies to Ana, it was, in fact, HER PHONE, poor girl. And I have no money, so getting another cell really sucks to the budget. I hate Curitiba hobos, and right now have a pretty lousy opinion of Curitiba in general since it's rained for 5 days straight, have no classes, and it's boring as hell and I live in a shit hole. But heyyyy ITS OKAY. I WAS BORN ON THE YEAR OF THE TIGER! AND THIS IS THE YEAR OF THE TIGER! So shit is bound to get better.

Thugged out version

Cruisin on my way to work some dumb bitch steps all in front of my grill sayin some dumb shit and showin me his lil' butter knife and I was like "BITCH" and whipped my gat into his face, cold cocked son wit the butt and started poundin my chest like whattup now, Napahville mothafuckaaaa USA USA, and kicked him as he was cryin lika bitch. Straight up. Teachin him a little biggie 101.

Livin in a Pensionato

I can't stop laughing at this picture. He has so much dignity! He's even sitting in the backseat being chauffeured when there is clearly an open seat up front! hahaha DOGS

So, the pensionato has been grating on me. My room has become the new room for everyone to congregate in front of. Which if you see my hallway, it doesn't make sense. It's small, only holds 4 doors, is narrow, and is next to the bathroom which is NEVER a place I'd stand next to casually holding conversations.

Now, the kitchen is up four flights of stairs, and is always crowded. And that crowd tends to steal my shit! My tupperware that houses my food for the fridge got stolen over break. What's more? I think it's being used for raw chicken, I can't prove it, they removed my paper saying "108", but it looks like the same one. If only I had cyanide.

In addition, as I stated briefly before I left for break, one night I stopped watching TV on my laptop and go to the bathroom, and there are little poops all over the floor! At first, I thought, human, but then I realized it was dog poops. The little yelpy dog that is barking at every moment of the day, and then makes his way into the kitchen for the .4 hours of the day I'm in there to bark more, right in front of me, pooped in MY bathroom. He doesn't even live on my floor! He's a vindictive son of a bitch. (lol)

Then, that same night!, I go out on the balcony, am admiring the stars, likin that moon, when all the sudden a flaming piece of paper drops RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY FACE and lands on the awning below. I'm like, "Whaaa?" and then a second piece of paper, with second smoldering flames, lands right next to my elbow! 11 weeks ago I would've blogged like "In Brazil, Fireworks are made by lighting paper on fire and throwing it over balconies!", but that ain't the case, I know now, some bud was just throwin flames like nuts over down upon me. HELLBASTARDS.

and now, i'm too lazy to go up to the kitchen to make some rice and potatoes because I don't feel like talking to anyone.

Guess how many classes I've had this week? Did you guess ZERO. Uggs.
Luckily it's rained every day this week PSYCHE that's not lucky.

January.

Wu-Tang level awesome blogging.

While this might not turn out to be the best blog post ever, it sure as hell is chronicling the best timeline ever. That's always a problem, the really great times are hard to explain in detail because one part being drunk two parts not writing in my head. I usually write all this in my head before writing it down. Jay Z DOES THIS AS WELL.

And, for your sake, Yeah, table of contents pt. II because WOW this'll be long. War and Peace, Canterbury Tales long. So to help you, I'll even give short descriptions of the chapter titles, because stuff like when I describe food just turns out as lists. I ain't a food critic, shit's just documenting. And yeah, friend, there IS pictures, legit ones - why? Because I didn't take them. The pics I took were awful, and I took like 6 before the batteries ran out. Good batteries, much like a good man :( , are hard to find, and don't tell me to buy a recharger, either, smarty pants - I've considered this and unconsidered after finding out uhhhh it's like double my income. (not hard to do.)

Enough typing about what I will type about (bad tendency) Here is the taya-a-able of co-oontents (to the melody of snoop doggy dog song).

PART ONE Summarizing Campinas Christmas!!!
I. Bus Ride - felt up by old man, saved Brazilian family from being torn apart
II. Ana's Dads - food and things
III. Ana's Moms - politics and food and car rides.

I. BUS RIDE

As I entered onto the bus I struggled to figure out what numbers referred to what seats, but finally settled down and knew I wouldn't move out of it (bathrooms on buses scare the shit out of me, and I ain't doin that on a bus bathroom where everyone KNOWS). People settle in and a family settles next to me, daughter adjacent, dad and son across the aisle. The daughter offers me a candy, the dad says something to me. Ugh. I hate this, unexpected difficulties. "Uh, ... desculpe, nao entende." He says something again... screw you man, I hope you di-OH oh, you want me to switch seats so your kids can all be together, right on, feliz natal. And he shakes my hand and promptly offers me a cookie as well. I probably made their day, if not life. They told all their friends, what a friendly American. I'm like, undoing 8 years of Bush era BADwill, singlehandedly. And then the new old man next to me starts chatting me up. I just say random words and nod.

Bus goes off and man, it's an 11 p.m. bus. You can recline all the way back. I don't though, I'm the only person on the bus that feels that is rude. I feel it's rude because I'm 6'1 so when they initially plow their seat back and destroys my knees. And then about an hour in I plop in my head phones, turn on some nice this american life - america's number one party school and was just listening to shrill drunk college girls for an hour and Ira glass begging for money I just...won't...give, a hand starts getting curiously close to my ass. I figure, hey, dudes goin for the seat belt. And it kept going. And I'm thinking, must be mistaking my ass for his own. And then when he gets to the point where he would be wedging his fingers between my seat and my ass, I think...of all the buses in all the world, I sit next to Mark Effin Foley. But I just crawl over as far to the other side of the seat as possible and stay up all night. I felt like cantine boy. I'd cut that bastards arm off if he tried anything, hold the arm up to all the passengers as they gawked outside at the madman.

PT. II ANA'S DADS

Anyway yeah just had some nice meals at Ana's dads house. Her Gma was there who is 95, I couldn't hear what she was saying, on top of not being able to understand what she was saying. But for Xmas she gave me this box that looked like a box of chocolates, so I'm like "Muito HOHOHObrigado" (just hilarious comment), and her father says "Open the box". And I'm like sure, should I eat them now? Haha, oohhh it's soap. It's soap, soap for your face, not gonna be eating that. Her father gave me a tee shirt and CD of brazilian music. I bought them a bottle of champaign for Christmas but on Christmas it wasn't opened, while 4 other bottles were, I wonder if it's because I bought them such an epic, Rappers' preferred bottle of Champaigne that they save it for like, Ana's wedding, or if it's because I bought them the equivalent of Andre, and it was such a slight that they refuse the wedding and global warming.

Yeah so then on Christmas me and Carlos went running with his friend. Ran 6K's, yeah man, that's like MORE THAN HALF OF A 10K! Carlos' friend curiously started smoking up before running, which I don't know if it helps or not but I'm like fast as hell anyways and totally beat him by 60M, at least. Then we had that suga cane watahhh, and it was good. Poor dude that makes that stuff always has bees flying all over him. He's so brave.

Pt. III Ana's MOMS

And then, straight up BBQ time man. Went to Ana's mothers, Carlos got a pork picanha cut, which was just ridiculously awesome. Just poured tons of salt on, lime. And then cooked salmon on it for a few hours, and that was even better. Drank some beer and talked to Ana's mother about my South American political hypotheses, she corrected a few and posed some qualifications. Good times had by all. The next day, Ana's mother took me for a ride around Indaiatuba, showed me the industries were, the parks were, and were all the everything else were.
BTW Brazilian Crime stories. Twice people ran up to Ana's Mamae's car while it was stopped with hands in their pockets like guns and asking for money. She told them to eff off and drove away. Carlos got hit by a car, goes around to say "Yo dude you loco man." and the guy pulls out a knife, carlos grabs it, and the guy pulls back, nearly severing Carlos' fingers. This stuff happened not while I was there, just backstories. In comparison, one time I got really drunk and some dudes beat me up after I called one "Chase Daniel". USA USA USA

Now you are caught up to where I was BEFORE my last blog! That's right, you have the whole NEW YEARS WEEK. Take a break. Take a break.
PART TWO - The week that was REVELLFLIPPINION
Table o Contents.
I. uhuh. - created to avoid renumbering!
II. The arrival - mostly about how crowded the houses were
III. The beachtown - talk about brazilian buttsssss
IV. The first night out - hittin on chixxxx
V. Dancin - How I started a dance crazeeeee
VI. The Food - Probably boring
VII. The Sham Marriage
VIII. Big Brother House BBBQ * The extra B is for BYOBB - lame chapter.
IX. Revellion (New Years Eve) - Wrote really fast cause it seemed that way! Fireworks!
X. Beach Stories and the like - Deleted (already written)
XI. The night where there was a really cute brazilian man NICE - Fairly boring story, chick was hot
XII. Ride Home/Back in Curitiba (AWESOMENESS)
XIII. The letting Go (PICTURES)

Pt. I - Uh Huh

I actually just decided to do two part entry with each their own table, so I just needed this so I didn't have to redo all the numbers.

Pt. II The Arrival

Uggh, I'm gettin carpal tunnel on this rams. So I waited for Dani to pick me up for 2 hours, which is now expected. Anyways on the busride back from Campinas I was getting kind of excited, the moon was bright enough so I could see the countryside with all the mountains and stuff and so I looked forward to the drive to Guarda da Embaù in the daytime (all bus rides to this point have been overnighters (with creepsters and stupid KIDS)). And but yeah I didn't sleep a wink, so I fell asleep right away and woke up and it was crazy nice. Green mountains, man, but eff Appalacia we're talkin nice ones, with lakes in the valleys that reflect the cottages. Isn't that painting a picture? No more scenery descriptions from me. I have PICTURES.

We get to Guarda de/a/o? Embaù, and, I really had no idea what I was getting into. I just kind of paid money and was fine with anything. But our house was not on the beach. It was 3 houses for about 30 people, I don't know the actual amount, and about a 10 min. walk to the beach. These houses usually had 2-3 bedrooms in them. Our house was smallest. When we walked in, I was like, whaat. At the climax, we had 10 people sleeping in there, I don't even know where, there was 2 bedrooms with 3 beds, a mattress on the floor in each room, and 2 mattresses and a couch in the next room. That's only 8. I don't know where the other 2 slept, honestly. But they were there in the morning. House had an awesome hammock where I would lay and listen to music while I unsleepyed after the sun.
On the walk to our house was a street on lined with long structures featuring where people actually lived. One of these houses featured a cute little blonde girl that at first I thought was just a fun kid, but each time walking by thereafter she was being chased by her mother around in circles. So, I mean, she might just be the spawn of satan. But the benny hill-ing she was doing with her mummy was kind of funny. props.

Pt. III The Beachtown

Okay, so we went right to the beach. As you'll see in pictures, when you arrive at the beach there is a little sand dune, then a river, then a beach, then the ocean. To get to the beach you had to either pay a man to take you across on his boat, or swim across. (How oregon trail is THAT!) I always swam, anyway, workin on my beach bod and all. So I swim across, and then I'm at my first Brazilian Beach.

So, yeah, you're right, I should probably answer all questions on the people. Alright, so: the swim attire - men, first. Yeah, most are in short-ass trunks, but by no means universal. I'd have fit right in if I wasn't vampire-pale sans sparkling. So, right...women's attire plus women in general. Okay...well, yes, the women's bathing suits were straight out of the hawaiian tropic girls posters, but luckily for everyone that isn't a meth addicted rural-based midwestern American who buy those posters and stick them up on their walls as they dream about one day going to a hooters restaurant, hoo dog, the women were far more attractive. Like, devastatingly hot, some of them. Although, yeah, sometimes you'd want to oedipus your eyes out when you'd be like "heh-whooo do we have here?" and they turn around and they are 15, and you're like OGOD WHY.

So yeah, If you are a self-described "Ass Man" you might have a coronary and die from the visuals on a Brazilian beach. I'm not, really, and it was a lot to take in. A whole lot of ass to take in. I mean the beach is pretty much a Tone Loc music video. I think I'm just indifferent to that whole body part now. If a situation arises where someone's like "Dude you want to check out her ass!" I'll just be like, what's the point man, I've been to Brazil. Walk into the lake and drowned myself.

In terms of the sun on my pale as folk skin, fortunately every woman in brazil is my mother. Every 5 minute exposure to the sun I was asked to get back under an umbrella. The ocean was niiiice and cold, providing some wonderful relief to a hot sun. I totally bodyboarded like NUTS too. This one guy was better at it than me though, he wouldn't even have his arms out in front of him and would be smiling the entire time, so it was just like this smiling head floating towards you in the water. A short trail walk and you made it to another beach, secluded from any town, and surrounded by mountains. On the walk back we took a different route and I was walking through straight up brazilian jungle. And really, it's thick as hell. If I was a trail blazer with a machete, it'd take like 4 hours to get 2 km in that ish. Which is why I would died before age 10 in any other century pre-20th.

IV. the First Night Out

I'm working really hard to be a Brazilian man, first. Also, I'm trying really hard to find a sham wife. But anyway, the first night out. I put on jeans and everyone was like "jeans, why jeans, ben" and I was like "oh it's all I have" but really it's because I'm self conscious about my CHICKENLEGS. We 'make lots of drink' (my favorite poorly translated english phrase), and I dance and speak some English to some BRAZILIANS and eat food. So we are walking to a bar and it seemed like people were just walkin in the street, so I do, figuring, you know, everyone walking in the street! right? And a car almost hits me and then someone yells "We have cars in Brazil, Ben" Lesson learned!

So R$20 at this bar to get in. And you get a free beer. It's right on the beach, it's crowded, sand floor, music playing from a surprisingly good band (for instance, they played a song that I knew!), so I dance like JAMS. And so not everyone who went on this trip were friends, so towns where they were from was the names. This one guy who lived in the U.S. for three years illegally and now could not return, was named O Brasilia (not O brasilia but you need articles before names bro it was just brasilia). Brasilia was a good dude. I asked him for some phrases to pick up a girl in portuguese. He gave them to me, I walked up to a really pretty girl and spouted them out, she thanked me. Then he came over and said like "oh this is my american friend i was just giving him some words to say, he thought you were beautiful (seriously this is not as douchebaggy in brazil as in states, I proms)" And it was a SICK 1-2PUNCH, but anyway she spoke great english and had just visited Chicago. But after five minutes I ran out of questions for her and it was just kind of like numerous other american bar rejections I've had so then i was like "WELP, um, see ya around the beach!" which was just nice. Maxi then told me I sucked and that she was waiting for me to kiss her, because that's brazilian. And Maxi is very wise, and Argentinian. But dude I'm fine being rejected straight up, but no way in HELL am I having a girl EVER turn her face from my pouty, Jolie-esque lips. I need like written contracts that they will return that magic.

So then we left, and back at the house a dance party was happ'nin, and the cops came and said "Calma" so we went to MY house and start pumpin up the jams, And moral was just I'm really awesome.

Pt. V - Dancing

Well I'm a really great dancer by myself. People are like MAN, he is coordinating his HIPS to his HANDS and spinning, jumping up and down. But, anyway, I thought it was time to teach Brazilians a thing or two about dancing. Yes, they have the "Samba" and straight thug down funke, the coordinated madness, but they don't have Ground Control to Major Foot. And so I teach this dance, invented by I believe Peter or Evan in Columbia MO. where you use your index fingers to control your feet, and then otherwheres. And it took off. Wouldn't you know it on new Years eve 30 brazilians were swingin their feet around and pointin like crazy men?! Strawman, in comparison, fared not so well. But I still like it. Intercontinental dance now.

Pt. VI The Food
Often I just start to cry at how good the food is. Just a psychopathic urge to kill it's so good. The first BBBQ*, well, hold on. Let me adequately describe, they cook big ass awesome cuts of meat for a while over wood burning coals, sometimes soaked in salt, others in some marinade. Then they cut them into pieces and you all just enjoy a few bites. It's excellent, you eat for hours. So, the first bbq I put the cut into my mouth and it tasted like hot sex and I was like Fuck you man how did you make this? And he's like "mustard" And I just started pounding my fist into the brick wall like "SURELY I SHOULD'VE KNOWN THIS SECRET BY AGE 23!", but, no, man, there was more to it. It was a special mustard. But whatever, it was awesome. And on the next bbq, we put regular YELLOW mustard all over that thing and it was flippin great. Also, lime over it all. I learned in brazil that you put lime over everything if you want it to taste awesome. No limit, souljas, to limes. Lime and salt. Alright, the meat the NEXT day, well, dudes, I don't know, it tasted like if you combined lobster dipped in melted butter with a steak, ughman i'm so hungry now. And on this night, they made that cut up tomatoes, onions and vinegar, lime, salt mix that is so awesome, AND rice, AND grilled onions in vinegar and spices, and I ate so much my stomach exploded everywhere, just a bloody mess. Everyone was said to have lost their appetite.

Pt. VII The Sham Marriage
As I said, I was looking for a wife. It would be an easy way to stay, and a nice story to tell (yes, my first sham marriage was to a Brazilian!). So the first night out, I told O Brasilia this, and he said "Go ask her" So I asked her in Portuguese and she said no...rams. So then I asked 3 more, and they all just giggled, like they didn't realize it was life or death? And then, on the second night I hear "BEEEN" and I'm like "Oi!" (B/c I know how to say that!), and they're like, "she wants a green card!" and I get down on one knee, grabbed her hand and put on a real sexy face and her skin just melted off like in temple of doom (have I used that before?). And she said yes.

Later on I'd call her esposa and make comments like "Oh great, my wife is getting hit on by another guy" and I'd get the occasional "you know she was joking right?" And I would put on a pouty face and cry for hours, infidelity is such a bitch!

Pt. VIII Big Brother BBBQ

I'm not sure why I put this in the table of contents, but one of the nights we had a bbq at our house and everyone came. I remember they came like 2 hours late and I thought it was rude but then I remember I was in Brazil. I was asked that night why I don't like "I gotta feelin", and I had to intimate that besides not liking songs that include "La Cheim (or however it's spelled", I've had to hear it a million times already including 3 times in a row (they had just played it 3 times in a row). Then after that, everyone started to agree and started playing it less. I changed the world.

Pointless entry. I've been writing for like 2 hours now.

OHHH, so our house was called house Big Brother after the CBS show. Apparently BB brazil is HUGE, but I don't have a TV so I've never watched it. I'd imagine with Brazilians the show is pretty entertaining/loud. But people kept saying "oh you have immunity for dancing like that " and I'd have to have explained to me what that meant and they'd be like "WTF it's an american show" and I'd have to explain that nobody under 50 watches CBS. One time we pulled sticks to see who would be the "big brother" and I picked the short stick, which was bad. Long stick wins. Longer stick always wins :(

Pt. IX Revellion

Holy shit. Where do I even begin. This was the best new years I've ever had. So, alright, whole day you are on a beach drinking, go home, dress. You dress in white, I forget why, new beginning, I didn't. Then it's like, red for passion, green for hope, blue means you're pregnant (stolen from a joke about moonshine.) Then we went to the girls house for dinner, a rice cheesy, meaty awesome casserole and salad and booze. And then Baile funke music comes on, and dancin, and people walking in the streets singing and chanting, and chanting back, and then a weird coordinated dance to Hey Ya by Outkast, then we go to the beach. I get in the boat at the river, and so it's a clear night under the stars surrounded by drunk people on a Venice-style boat as this guy is power-roddin this boat with a long stick. Get on to the beach, grab some champagne. On a beach, surrounded by green mountains a river and an ocean, hundreds of drunk brazilians singing, an abundance of fireworks hits the sky and comes crashing down on you. It was just awesome. If I could give 1,000 hugs to 10,000 lightning bugs at that point, man, I would. I so would.

So then I gave a bunch of hugs and said feliz ano novo, and tried my god damndest to find a woman. And I failed miserably, it was thrilling. Couple reactions "huh?" and running away. I walked around with two of the brazilian dudes from the group, but their method was somehow scummier than mine, just kind of walking up behind a chick and dancing so incredibly close to the night at the roxbury skits I ran away. And this night I lost my shoes :( but yeah, somehow I ended up back at the house.

If you are wondering how hundreds of fully clothed drunk people found bathrooms on the beach, well, the next day the river level was way above normal. Just sayin...

Part XI - The night there was...

Actually, the night before, I went out one last time. And one of the dudes we started talking to some girls. And they were nice. Then we were talking to other girls, and then it changed and suddenly we were with one attractive girl and one brunette wynona judd lookalike. And he started stayin with that girl and I did one last double check, like "how below my standards is this?" and then said "WELLP" and walked home.

So the last night, I go to dinner with Maxi, Bella, Diego, and Mari. In line at the restaurant, Maxi sees his friend whom I gathered he traveled in Spain with? And her friend. And so this girl maxi knew is hot as hell. And so she speaks perfect English. And I'm tongue-tied and boring, completely reverting to my American suckness. It was depressing. I wanted her to be my sham wife, damn it.

But anyways, I'm goin to Sao Paolo to find her again and wifey her.

Pt. XII The Ride Home/back to Curitiba

I guess it just struck me how this was the first time I had work vacation and was dreading going back to my job? Pretty ramsy. Plus, yeah Curitiba is nice and all but if I had a beach to go that would be rams. But I got back, put my clothes in the wash, walked to work to check my schedule, and looked up at the sky and it was so clear and blue. More than blue. Shit was POST-Blue, that's right, 2010, living in a POSTBLUE world. And then it started raining and my student didn't show up and so then she said she wasn't scheduled and I might not get paid and then I learned I didn't have enough money for rent and now I just have 30 of food money for the whole month and I'm screwed.

BUT SHIT WAS WORTH IT.

Pt. XIII - The Letting Go

Just seemed like an EPIC last chapter.

PICTURESSpawn of satan child on right^^^