Sunday, January 16, 2011
Last night I went out to Lapa with a good friend of mine for some drinking and dancing. I'm not a big club person but the promise of Beatles and 80s music was pretty endearing so we took a ONE HUNDRED REAIS cab ride aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaall the way from Recreio to Lapa.
The farness factor cannot be emphasized any more than this.
Anyway, I digress. So we had a great ol' time dancing and drinking Malibu Rum(!!). The club was just as great as any club can be - so hot and sweaty that I have a hard time pulling my jeans back up after fazendo xixi and that my shirt feels like a wet dish rag. Fun! Why on Earth don't I go to clubs more often??
So great time, came home very late/early and pretty tipsy which ULTIMATELY equals eating McDonalds the next day.
I have no idea why I am cursed with this physical NEED to eat McDonalds the day after a night of drinking. It's like my stomach will not accept anything other than this crap that I truly don't even really enjoy eating. It's this argument with myself that I lose EVERY TIME! I know it won't taste as good as I think it tastes in my head. I know my stomach will feel like it's on fire later. I know that damn bread is going to be hard and crusty. And I KNOW they will not understand me when I ask for um quarterao (Jeeeeeez, they never understand me when I say quarterao! What else could I be asking for?? Put it together! I know I have an accent but does it sound like I am saying Bic Mac?)
But I start to convince myself! Mmm think about how good that burger tastes! This time the bread will be fresh! This time the fries will be hot! This time they'll know exactly what you're asking for and maybe even might ask "Damn, are you Brazilian?!?" Yeah, this time it will be different.
But obviously it's not. It's never different! That's the thing about McDonalds! That's their actual 'thing'. They are always the same.
So, like clockwork, I convinced myself that today would be different on my Hangover McDonalds Day and I went. Well my bread was hard, my coke was flat, and I only had one pickle on my quarterao. But joy of joys, they understood me perfectly. So Lindsey, one. McDonalds, zero. Thank you and I'll be seeing you on my next hangover.