Bleep Bleep Bleep

The existence of "bad words" is something that bothers me. Okay, not so much bothers me, but it confuses me. Why are there words that can't be said in certain situations? Who makes these words up? What do they really mean? 

For example, what's going to change if I say 'darn' or 'damn'? Is there that big of a difference if I say 'shit' or 'poop'? No, not really. And there are degrees of bad words. Like 'damn' or 'hell' aren't really considered bad words anymore but 'fuck' is considered super rude. Fuck fuck fuck. There, I said it. Did anyone's life change drastically because I said that? Nope. 

And I've mentally divided people by the reasons why they say bad words: 1, because they think they're being bad-asses and 2, because they really don't care, words are words. 

But yeah, I just think the existence of bad words is pretty retarded and unnecessary. 

I have a head ache now, my parents watch TV waaay too loud. 

Things on my mind

Because my friends all suck, I didn't have Halloween this year. Could I possibly steal Carnaval or Christmas from them? 

Today, I realized that the most contact I have with a girl I used to be bestfriends with is when I help her farm on Farmville. I also realized that I don't miss her at all. It doesn't make me miss her, just nostalgic of how we used to be. 

The more I hang out with them, the more I feel like I should definitely be hanging out with different people. Damn my shyness. 

I have a feeling that my family thinks I'm completely incompetent, stupid and useless. I'm waiting for the moment when I show them that I'm not. 

I hate Pink (the singer). She's so annoying and obnoxious completely the opposite of subtle. 

I've been kind of emo lately, I'm not sure why. Actually, I do know why but it doesn't feel fair to blame all my problems on one person. 

NARWHALS, NARWHALS, SWIMMING IN THE OCEAN, CAUSING A COMMOTION, 'CUZ THEY ARE SO AWESOME! 

I've got a wig, now all I need is the rest of the costume! Any ideas? 

Because I can't say it face to face

Okay, so I decided that I'm gonna write what I want to say to a couple of people. If I'm writing to you, you'll probably know. 

• Why are you friends with her? You combina so much more with me, please realize that! 
• Babe, I love you and thank you for everything. I am so grateful to have someone as amazing and understanding as you in my life. You're the soulmate kind of friend I've always wanted to have and the only bad thing about you is how far away you live. 
• What's your problem? Why don't you talk to me? I miss who you used to, just come back to being my friend, please? 
• Just come home, please. Things haven't been okay with me since you left. I love you and I miss you so much. 
• I am so happy to have you with me everyday and grateful that you hear me complain and that you don't mind me remembering stuff that already happened. I love you! 
• It's not that I don't like you guys, you're all nice and all, but you're not who I want, sorry. 

That's it. g'night. 

PS: I don't like going to sleep at night but I live for naps in the afternoon. It makes no sense. 

I took this picture with my friend's super pro camera! It made me proud hihi I still want to take photography classes, but it's just sort of pricey to get a camera and everything. I'll have to settle with taking pictures with my friend's camera :)

PS: I still have "Fight for this Love" in my head grr haha

If it's worth having, then it's worth fighting for!

Musica do dia: Fight For This Love - Cheryl Cole. 

You win, Vicky. You win. 

:) 

And I know it isn't really your fault, but it kind of is. Or at least it feels like it is. Whatever. 

I don't particularly know what's going on with me but I know I don't like it. I've always hated looking at myself in the mirror but now it's worse; I avoid looking in the mirror because I don't like what I see. I don't wanna see the person I love most in the world because I'm scared that he's going to think the same thing I do when I see myself. And I guess I've always known that I'm not skinny but today it hit me of how far away from skinny I am. I don't know what I'm doing, but I know I'm sick of feeling like this but once again, I have no strength to do anything about it and knowing myself, this is just going to keep getting worse. I should go to a psychiatrist. 

- 

Emo post, I know, sorry. I'm not writing this because I want comments that say "No way, you're soooo pretty" or anything like that, I just wanted to get it out of my system. anyways. 

Things like this make me wish I was famous. Happy 25th Birthday, Katy Perry! :) 

I guess my heart isn't used to this much strain. 

All You Need is Love

I'm making a love list of everything I like in the world (that I can remember). 

- Couple pictures

- Chocolate

- Dancing

- Painting my nails pink

- Jeans

- Glitter pens

- Kittens and cats in general

- Plain rides

- The smell of rain

- Not going to school

- Post Secret

- Vicky

- Hugs

- Teen TV shows (Gossip Girl, The OC, Skins, 90210) 

- Reading other people's blogs

- Anything sugary

- Watermelons

- Andy Samberg

- Songs that make me feel different

- Photography 

- Straight hair with bangs

- Romantic boys

- People that say "I'll be there for you" and mean it

- Farmville

- Talking to my sister before going to sleep

- Chuck Bass

- Books about boarding schools

- Silver earrings (never gold) 

- My pink All Stars

- Platypus

- People that start conversations with me or that talk to me when I strike up a conversation

- Old couples

- Little kids with curly hair

- Watching movies and thinking "wow" after the movie has finished

- Laughing so hard at something that you forget what you were laughing at in the first place

- Twitter

- Stripes, polka-dots, plaid

- Skype

- Twitter

- Dr. House

- Sarcasm, but not when people use it to be rude. 

- Chuck and Blair

- Passionate people

- Theater (I was going to put Drama, but then that would sound like I liked day to day drama) 

- Performing on stage

- Compliments from people I admire

- Ice cream

- Cute stories, like MLIA

- Sheep

- Candles that smell nice

- Pijamas

- Wearing my boyfriend's sweater

- Sleeping

- Sexual innuendos and jokes

- Writing (obviously né haha) 

- Stuffed animals

- Glitter

- Colorful flats

- Memoirs

- The Office and all the characters in it. Except Toby, he is everything wrong with the paper industry. :) 

- Hugo Boss: Energize :) 

- Love. 

Okay, agora eu vou indo que pessoas precisam usar o computador and I've posted enough times today haha

Rainbow

Him: Do you think souls have colors? 

Her: What? 

Him: Souls. Colors. 

Her: Like auras and crap? 

Him: Not really, souls are different from auras. 

Her: Are you high? 

Him: What am I doing with you? 

Her: Don't know. 

-

I should just go to sleep. 

Rantings and Ravings

I'd like to write in my blog under the influence of drugs. Not that I'm into drugs, but I just think it'd be interesting. 

Oh, and fun side note, my dad rented a movie that had Beyoncé as a lead character. I don't think my dad gets that movies with singers aren't really good. Not that I don't like Beyoncé, I just think that singers should stick to what they do. Or else it's going to be like J-Lo who makes a bunch of bad movies. Like that movie where she's abused by her husband and when I was younger I used to love that movie. I was kind of a weird kid, apparently. 

P.S: Imagine having Lady Gaga as a best friend. AWESOME. 

P.P.S: I just chose the picture because it made me smile when I saw it :) 

Soft skin, red lips, so kissable! :)

Okay, so I was reading this girl's blog and I stumbled upon a topic for me to blog about which is the reasons that I love being a girl. 

 - We can listen to pop stuff like Lady Gaga or Miley Cyrus and people won't call us gay.

 - Pink nailpolish. <3 

 - We can wear guy clothes (boyfriend jeans, hello!) and girls clothes. It kind of doesn't work both ways, sorry. 

 - Sleepovers are more fun. They consist of trashy movies, gossip, talking about boys and sex, dancing and singing around and eating things that definitely aren't on our diet. And all of this is way cooler than watching porn, talking about which girls are hotter and videogames. No offense. 

- We can flirt with guys and then say "no" when they want to hook up with us. I mean, yeah, guys can do this too, but then they seem like jerks

- Dancing slutty; guys can't shake their ass and ir até o chão 

- Girls can hold hands with girls without being called lesbians

- Make up :) 

- Pregnancy. Okay, yeah, this might be one alot of people's "it sucks being a woman because..." list because it hurts and whatever, but c'mon, you can grow a human being inside you. It's pretty amazing. 

- You always know the baby is yours. 

- We can talk about our feelings and we're not called 'emo'. 

- Dresses

- And skirts

- We can say stuff like "suck my dick" and "jizz in my pants" without it being incredibly awkward. Ex: saying "OMG, that guy's so hot, i just jizzed in my pants" might earn you a few chuckles, but saying "Wow, what a hot girl, i just jizzed in my pants" is going to make people give you weird looks. 

That's it for today, I might have just used up all my creativity on the previous blog posts. 

PS: Title from the song "I Kissed a Girl" by Katy Perry, in case anyone was wondering. :)

'No, not high school evil, like actual evil.'

It's a little bit sad how much I want to see 'Jennifer's Body'. I was actually disappointed that it wasn't in theaters here yet and I just re-checked IMDB and it does say that the release date in Brazil is 23rd of October. Bastards. But I was thinking about it and I think part of my excitement is because I'm going to bully Marcus into watching it with me and I think he probably will because he likes me a little bit - even though he denies it - and because Megan Fox is hot. I miss Marcus and how he used to be. 

Oh, and on IMDB, the key words of 'Jennifer's Body' are: cheerleader, bestfriend, blood, breast fondling, and hook for a hand. seems promising. :) 

PS: Today my friend asked me who was Megan Fox. Um, hello, where have you been?! It's like when this girl who used to be in my class asked me who were the Jonas Brothers and who was Amy Winehouse. These people depress me. And so do people that know way too much about celebrities. 

Exit

"Are you ready?" 

She looked at him, nervous. She was pale and sweaty. She nodded. 

"I love you," he said, hugging her tightly. 

"I love you too," she said, pressing her forehead against his. She could feel his fast heartbeat, the adrenaline pumping through his veins. She squeezed her eyes, but she was absolutely sure of what they were about to do. 

He picked up the gun that was lying on the bed next to them and put his finger on the trigger. Then he pressed it. 

- 

I don't know. 

I really really want a Polaroid. I found one online that costs $50, christmas present, please?

"And I know you have a heavy heart, I can feel it when we kiss"

I've been listening to Bright Eyes alot lately and their songs make me want to cry and hug someone. 

She opened her eyes lazily. She glanced over and he was driving steadily, one hand on the steering wheel and one hand on his styrofoam cup of coffee. 

He noticed he had woken up and smiled. "Hey, babe."

"How long have I slept?", she asked, groggily, reaching for the cup with her name on it. He knew she didn't like coffee and had bought her chocolate milk. 

"Not much, about 2 hours," he answered. 

She leaned back, putting her bare feet on the dashboard. Death Cab softly wafted out of the speakers at a low volume since she had been sleeping. She turned the knob and the music grew louder and she smiled; it was "Passenger Seat", her favorite song. They sat there in silence, listening to music, but it wasn't an awkward silence, it was the comfortable silence when two people don't need to actually say anything but they could just sit there. 

"How long 'til we get there?" She asked, looking at him. He was wearing a stripy green and white polo and his favorite worn jeans. She couldn't see his feet but she knew he was wearing his blue Nikes that were her favorites. On his wrist he had a ratty purple bracelet that matched hers. She reached over and squeezed his hand. 

"Umm, a little over two hours, I think. You hungry?" Before he could answer, he reached into the back seat and brought back a box. She glanced quizzically at him, a smile forming on her lips. She opened it and inside were chocolate donuts, because she told him that she had been craving them for a while and hadn't gotten around to buying any. 

"Thanks." She bit into one and grinned at him. He smiled, his eyes focused on the road. He was perfect, and he was hers. Her eyes welled up with tears as she thought of where they were going now. He was going to her off, stay at her house for a couple of days, get in touch with old friends, then pack up and go back home. Sure, he was just two states over and they at least were in the same time zone, but it still made her heart ache when she thought of him away for another year. 

"What's wrong, love?" he asked, sensing something wrong in her silence. She blinked away the tears and shook her head. She told him it was nothing and he shrugged, knowing her enough not to push her to talk. He reached over and smeared chocolate on her nose, making her giggle. 

It was moments like these that she'd miss once he had left. Driving in his car, listening to songs she'd sent him and he had pretended to like, spontaneous tickle fights, eating unhealthy food in enormous amounts, spending hours remembering funny things and personal jokes, mornings lying in bed thinking of baby names and wedding locations, texts sent to each other in the middle of the night, hugs when the weather was cold, sharing huge tubs of popcorns while watching movies. She missed him already. 

- 

Not particularly well written or creative, mas melhor que nada. 

I lied this week. I guess House was right.

25 things, more or less.

Okay, so one of these days I was looking at my Facebook notes and I found that "25 facts about yourself" thing and I read mine and it was stupid and retarded. So here I decided to write random things about myself. Enjoy.

I never know how to start things when I'm writing. Like, I hate writing introductions to essay, they rarely have that hook that English teachers want you to have when writing. And when I'm writing something for somebody, I usually start with "okay, where do I start?".
I am always in the mood for chocolate and everything just tastes better with it. I love chocolate milk, nuggets (and any other thing made with chicken), bread and peas. I don't like vegetables, brocolli is the only exception to this rule. Ice tea is my favorite drink in the world and I really don't like the taste of alcohol.
I don't like it when people say "we should really keep in touch, just because i'm moving it doesn't mean we won't stay in touch" and then never talk to you again. It just makes me sad how some people let others walk out without saying anything.
I completely disagree with the sentence "If you love something, give it away." No, if you love someone, hold them tight and don't let them go. I guess that might make me selfish, but whatever, I'm needy. I seek attention but then feel awkward when people give it to me. It makes no sense.
I'm slightly paranoid and I constantly think that people are avoiding me. It might have something to do with self-esteem issues.
I envy girls who have bestfriends and it makes me sad to think that I used to be one of those girls.
I wanna go back to my old life, this one isn't suiting me too well.
My dream is to have straight hair. I am in love with words and books.
I prefer rereading my old favorite books than reading new books, mainly because I don't want to be disappointed.
I hate the term "make love". Just say sex, it's not that bad. "Make love" sounds cheesy and lame.
I wish I worked at Dunder Mifflin. My cat is part of my family, I love him. I hate to think that eventually he's going to die, I really don't know what I'm going to do when he does.
Don't be offended or annoyed when I don't tell you why I'm sad. I don't tell anyone why I'm sad, it's just the way I am. It's not because I don't trust you or anything like that.
I love music and I wish I was patient enough to learn how to play something really well.
I wish I had more coordination and was a better dancer.
I love crowds, I like how in crowds you can just stand there and no one pays particular attention to you or to what you're doing, you're just part of a group.
People that go to sleep early annoy me. Like, not everyone, but when I'm talking to someone and they're like "Okay, I'm sleepy, gonna go, bye!"
I love dancing and I'm probably the most energetic person on the dancefloor. I will get pissed if you make fun of the way that I dance, though, even if you are my friend.
I love PostSecret <3>I know I stalk, but I always find it sort of weird when random people comment on my pictures on Facebook. I like to think I have a stalker. Not a creepy one, but like, someone who wants to get to know me and reads my twitter and checks out my orkut.
I think I want to live somewhere else for college, but I know that I couldn't be able to live without my mom.
Since I could write, I've said that I wanna be a journalist when I grow up, but right now, I'm not really sure.
No matter how many times I've watched it, "Superbad" always makes me laugh.
I really really wish House existed. I am in love with so many fictional characters.
I cry over silly things, like being frustrated or not finding a hairband and running late and homenagems nas festas de quinze anos and deaths of people i never knew.
I miss FAMBLE :(
And here is my absolute favorite postsecret, which is taped to my closet door (eu não achei o post card mesmo então eu só vou escrever):
"The most important thing I've realized lately is that painful break ups, unrequited love, shitty jobs and the like help us to build character and no matter how much it hurts, we are much better off because of it."

:)

At the Bottom of Everything

So there was this woman and 
she was, uh, on an airplane and 
she's flying to meet her fiancé 
sailing high above the--the largest ocean 
on planet earth and she was seated 
next to this man who, you know 
she had tried to start conversations 
an really--really the only thing 
she heard him say was to order his bloody mary
and she's sitting there and she's reading 
this really arduous magazine article about a 
third world country that she couldn't 
even pronounce the--the name of and 
she's feeling very bored and very despondent
and--and then, uh, suddenly there's this huge mechanical failure and one of the--the engines gave out 
and they started just falling -an- thirty thousand feet 
and the pilot's on the microphone and he's saying, 
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Oh My God, I'm Sorry" 
and apologizing and she looks at the man and she--and she says,
"Where are we going?" and he looks at her and he says, 
"We're going to a party, it--it's a birthday party. 
It's your birthday party, happy birthday darling. 
We love you very, very, very, very, very, very, very much."
And then, uh, he starts humming this little tune and--and, uh, it kind of goes like this, it's kinda:

- 

This is the introduction to a song by Bright Eyes and it caught my attention. :) 

I'm lacking inspiration. 

Your Ex-Lover is Dead

I'm not sorry I met you, I'm not sorry there's nothing to say, I'm not sorry there's nothing to say. 

When there's nothing left to burn, you must set yourself on fire. 

PS: little side note, I'm also doing the whole not-lying-for-a-week thing with Alan and Vicky. Expect a blog post in a week of how that turned out. 

All These Things That I've Done

I want a meaning from the back of my broken hand, 

Another head aches, another heart breaks,

I'm so much older than I can take, 

And my affection, well, it comes and goes

I need direction to perfection, no no no 

(Thanks, Brandon Flowers :D )

Laying on her bed, with her cat asleep on her stomach, she felt complete. Soft music wafted from her stereo and all thoughts of sadness and loneliness were drained from her mind. She simply concentrated on her breathing as her heart swellled with all the love in the world. 

-

I'm listening to Asleep by The Smiths, it always makes me feel different (thanks, Stephen Chbosky). 

She sat down and buckled in. The ride lurched forward and started going up, steadily. Her entire body ached and tears welled up in her eyes. The ride sped up and she moved around, up, down, upside down, the wind blowing in her hair. The speed rushed her and made her cry even harder. This was the only thing that made her feel alive. 

Prefiro desabafar para estranhos anônimos do que para gente que eu conheço; weird. 

Listening to Blink 182 makes me feel young and carefree. Not that I'm old and worried, but y'know. 

"And when i feel like giving up like my world is falling down, I show up at 3 am, she's still watching 'Vacation', I see her pretty face, it takes me away to a better place!"

Preliminar

"I'd always loved the part in movies when a project, or even a person's whole life, came together: the montage, set to uplifting music, where you saw the spunky multicultural kids set aside their differences and fix up the old man's house, straighten the hanging shutters, paint the outside, mow the lawn, and weed the flowerbed; or the twentysomething woman who finally lost weight, dancing through aerobics classes, moping her brow while she rode a gym bike, with a white towel around her neck, and then at last she emerged from the bathroom all cleaned up, bashful but beautiful (of course, she had no idea how beautiful), and her best friend hugged her before she left for the date or party that would be her triumph. I wanted to be that person, and I wanted the in-between time when I improved myself to glide by just that smoothly, with its own festive soundtrack." 

"Sports contained the truth, I decided, the unspoken truth (how quickly we dam ourselves when we start to talk, how small and inglorious we always sound), and it seemed hard to believe that I had never understood this before. (...) To play a great game of high school basketball - it was something I myself had never done, but I could tell - made you know what it was to be alive. How much in an adult life can compre to that? Granted, there are margaritas, or there's no homework, but there are also puffy white bagels under neon lights in the conference room, there's waiting for the plumber, making small talk with your boring neighbor." 

I reread "Prep" for probably the ninth time and each time I read it, I get that "hey, someone gets knows I mean" feeling. Only really really good authors can do that. 

PS: the name of this post is the name of the book in portuguese, but i find it kind of awkward and reminds me of foreplay. 

Do you pick your friends or do your friends pick you? I never know. 

Let's make this last forever

Clutching the cold cup in my hand, I returned to where I'd been sitting, next to the bar, near the dancefloor. The place was packed. I sat up a little straighter, trying to see someone I knew and sipped my drink, nervously. 'This is what I get for having crappy friends,' I thought to myself, angry for being alone at a party on a Saturday Night. 'Definitely better than staying at home, though'. 

I was just surveying the dancing crowd when I saw her. She was also by herself. I had a sip of my drank, suddenly nervous and feeling uncomfortable in my worn out Nikes and faded tshirt. She was in the middle of the dancefloor, dancing. Wearing only a white dress and pink flip-flops, she was gorgeous. Her long brown hair was in a messy pile on top of her head, and her eyelids were covered in green glitter. The song changed and she smiled and continued to dance. 

She stomped her feet on the ground, her hips swaying, she threw her arms over her head. Her long, lithe body pulsed to the music and she jumped up and down when the chorus started. God, she was beautiful. I kept my eyes on her, drinking out of my cup. Another song started and she obviously liked it because she smiled and danced faster. I watched her for a couple of songs, enthralled by her never-ending energy. She definitely looked out of place here. All the other girls were wearing tight, shiny outfits and towered her with their clacky shoes, dancing in tight packs. But dancing by herself, not caring about what other people thought of her being there, of what she was wearing, of her lack of company, she was the only one I could watch. 

I had been in love with her as long as I can remember. I think it started on the first day of third grade. My mom had gelled my hair back and I kept touching it self-consciously, knowing that no one else would have hair like mine. I walked in and saw her. She was barefoot and wearing a stripy shirt and overalls, her messy hair in two braids. Even then, she had long, silky hair. "Hi," I had said, walking up to her. "I'm Jack." She smiled at me, showing me her small white teeth. "I'm Daisy. I'm a turtle." She had then proceeded to crawl all around the classroom at a very slow pace for the rest of they day. 9 years later and she was just as quirky and original. It wasn't like she was excluded, she just preferred being by herself than being with other people. That and her excentric wardrobe had earned her the title of "freak" and caused her to be shunned by our class. I had once confided to my friends about my crush on her and they all had said, "Yeah, she'd go out with you. If she talked to people" and then continued to mock me for the rest of our high school years. 

But high school was over now. It'd been a month since our graduation, when she had decided to go against the 'white dress' rule and had worn a colorful frilly dress and a daisy behind her ear. She hadn't stopped dancing for the past half an hour and now her tan skin was covered by a thin sheen of sweat. She smiled and threw her hands at the ceiling, bobbing her head with the beat of the song. She was electric. 

Without the company of my friends, I felt the urge to do something about the crush I'd had for the past nine years. Feeling bold, I drained my cup and left it on the bar. I approached her and she was still dancing, jumping up and down and singing along. Her back was to me and I could see the flower tattoo on her ankle. I touched her hip lightly.

"Hey," I said. She turned around, her pink lips stretching into a wide smile. 

-

I imagined this as just a description of her dancing, but things sort of lost control. In a good way. 

Addiction

He sat down in his usual chair and jiggled the mouse, the screen coming to life. The cursor dragged over to Facebook. Click, click. He was in and just in time. The little squares were waiting for him. His eyes remainded attached to the screen as he did everything mechanically, harvest, plow, plant, wait. He clicked once more on the buttons and checked his watch. It was 2:33. He set his alarm to 6:33, knowing that everything would be ready by then. He might be a little late to work, but if he didn't log in before, they would all rot and he wouldn't get the coins or the medals. He needed them. He went back to bed and lay down, in his empty bed, thinking about what to plant next. This is what his life had become. 

- 

It's a little pathetic that I just wrote a story about a Farmville addict. This is not in any way based on my life haha just on the fact that I also play Farmville :) 

Translanticism

I need you so much closer, so come on. 'Saudades' doesn't even begin to cover what I feel. Eu te amo muito, neném! 

Minha terra tem palmeiras onde canta o sabiá

Parabéns, Rio, you did it, 2016 é nois. Momentos que nem esse me deixam muito patriota e orgulhosa de ser brasileira. E agora, because i can, vou colocar 'You know you're brazilian when...' do facebook, porque eu tava lendo esses dias e eu majorly agree. haha enjoy my plagiarism. :) 

You think American bathing suits are enormous.
You like Guarana better than Coke.
If someone tells you to be at a certain place at 1:00 pm, you don't show up until 2:30 or 3:00 p.m.
You know who Xuxa and Pele are.
You still argue Pele is better than Maradona.
Your entire family goes to grandma's house on Sundays for a big family get together....even when you guys see each other everyday.
You can name at least 30 novelas and 10000 actors/actresses.
You would rather die than see Argentina beat Brazil in soccer. 
BBQ means steak, sausage, chicken wings, pork, rice, farofa, molho and beer.
You are the loudest person in the room.
You have a Brazilian flag hanging from your car's rearview mirror.
You travel to Brazil and instead of taking a suitcase with all your stuff, you take presents for the entire family, the dog, the neighbor, not to mention the old/used clothes that you take just in case someone needs it.
You're so proud that you're Brazilian you tell everyone.
You leave your house spotless when you have people coming over.
You have a sweet ass (or you like women with them).
You understand & speak Spanish, but when you say a word in Portuguese no one understands you.
You can drop it like it's hot.
Your jokes are always about Portuguese people.
You take soccer too seriously.
You cried when Brazil lost the world cup.
You go to a birthday party,and you can't leave until you take that piece of cake home.
You know what Capoeira is.
You know a lot about Samba and Pagode.
You eat rice and beans at least 7 days a week.
Your breakfast consists of milk and coffee, bread with butter and a piece of cake.
Everyone thinks you're everything but Brazilian.
You know who Os Trapalhoes, Turma da Monica, Zico, Caetano Veloso, Tom Jobim, Elis Regina, Ronaldinho, Jo Soares, Cazuza, Gilberto Gil, Silvio Santos, Roberto Carlos, Ayrton Senna, amd Carmem Miranda are.
You go to a bar and ask for salgadinhos with guarana.
You are so used to corruption that nothing surprises you anymore.
You know how to play dominoes and cards.
You have a sense of fashion.
You wear slippers..a lot!
You know how to play volleyball and handball.
You take pictures everywhere you go.
You know what it's like to buy liquor without an ID.
You know how to party, and if the party isnt over after 5am...its not a party!
Any holiday...being it official or not, is an excuse to stay home from work and take a week vacation.
You know what feijoada and pave are.
Your favorite drink is Caipirinha.
You dress up to go to the supermarket.
You spend an entire day at the beach.
You are too friendly.
You like it hot and sweaty. Both in and outside of the bedroom.
You make friends everywhere you go. 
Cachaca rocks your pants off. 
You grew up dancing/singing to Xuxa.
Easter is incomplete without bacalhau.
You own havainas in every color imaginable. 
You went to Disney World for your 15th birthday. 
No meal is complete without rice, farofa and feijao. 
You'll fly Varig even if it's a little more expensive because it's Brazilian.
You like mayonnaise on your hot dogs and Americans think you're crazy for it. 
You love coracao de frango. 
You own a pair of white pants. 
You know what bossa nova and pagode is. 

You know you're brazilian when you nodded while reading the things above. :) 

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Right now there's kind of alot going on in my head, então I'll probably post a story here later. :) 

Lanky

She rushed upstairs, took off all her clothes and ran to the bathroom. Her mother had gotten rid of all the scales since the last time they went to the doctor but that wasn't going to stop her. She was determined. 

Placing her thin back against the wall, she drew a dot on the wall where her hips where. Stepping back to admire her work, she saw the size hadn't changed since yesterday. Frustrated, she threw the black pen on the floor. Standing there in her light blue underwear, she thought she was hideous. She picked up the pen and stared at her white skin. "Fat," she declared, her eyes welling with tears. She placed the pen on her stomach, a black mark tainting her porcelain skin. She frantically started writing on her stomach and when that was filled, she moved on to her legs, then her arms. 

She looked at herself in the full-length mirror. She tugged at her yellow hair that hang down from her head. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, her dark eyes bugging out at her. She took a step back and inspected her body. The words 'not good enough' were scrawled all over her body in her spiky handwriting, and that's exactly how she portrayed herself. Just not good enough. 

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Because we were talking about anorexia one of these days in class.