BCE. Best Christmas Ever.

It started with Matias coming over with a huge pork loin with peaches and cinnamon and tasty fatty bits (he even brought a baster - which I still have), basmati rice and yummy potato salad made by the world famous Carmen Burns’ mom. We ate, we drank, we watched some TV and drank some more.

A note on Christmas in Brazil: It happens on Christmas Eve and it happens fucking late. The shit usually doesn’t end until 1 or 2am with family and gifts and food. Matias had the idea of having a Christmas Eve after family party at my house. A party that starts around 1 or 2am. Srsly. Only in Brazil.

Just me and Matias. Fuck the world.

So, with bellies full of beer and tasty pig and minds full of cheesy overacted melosupsensedrama, Matias and settled down to await the arrival of the family folks. The phone would ring and Matias would say with a wry smile, “Come over! Everyone’s here!” No one was there. Well, Matias and I were. Which, I suppose, are the important folks. But people believed him and what proceeded was the best first party at my house ever.

We should really start with this:

That’s fucking Art. Ok, now we can move on.

Maíra and Hudson showed up and Maíra was fucking wasted. She needed a nap and thanks to the hammock, she got one.

CFB. For the win.

The obligatory super-sexy shot of Carmen.

Lovinglyish.

Maíra is angry because we woke her up.

That’s Mari and Bella. Bella, the guest of honor.

Filipe and Mari. I was in the grocery store the other day and the cashier wrinkled her nose at me and said, “Those glasses are for girls. Pink?!”

Bella’s sad because there wasn’t enough beer for her.

Hudson. Pooping.

Blurry group shot.

At about 4am, Maíra decided that we were going dancing. She can be, let’s say, persuasive. Matias, Carmen, Julia and Mario decided to just hang out at my place to drink and talk the rest of the night away while Hudson, Maíra, Mari and I decided to go dance the night away.

We went to a few places but then ended up settling on A Obra, a cavernous, sweltering basement shithole (lovable but a shithole nonetheless). There was beer and sweat and dancing.

As scary as it looks.

We exited A Obra at around 7:30am in search of breakfast. We found it a fancy hotel, downtown. We were a little worse for wear but delighted by scrambled eggs, bacon, pão de queijo and other vittles.

9am. Time to go home. Ah, but the smiles.