Well, it turns out I don’t need to know Portuguese because nobody understands a word I’m saying yet I’m having the time of my life. Between smartypants Richard speaking five different languages and my expertise in charades when he’s not around, I’m getting by just fine. Talking is overrated, anyway. And I can always blog to you guys in English to get things off my topless chest. (yes, I’m topless right now on the Copa blogging and drinking beer.... or is it sangria? i'm not sure, am really fucking drunk.)
So it turns out I’m one of the few blonds in Rio so I’m getting plenty of male attention. Very different from L.A. where everybody, including black people and Koreans are blond. Another thing that’s different is that here everyone walks around wearing hardly anything and they’re FAT! I’m serious! Fat women, fat men, fat children… all prancing about in thongs and speedos! So THIS is where my tribe’s been hiding. (Although I’m not as fat as most of them.)
Okay, onto the important stuff: Richard. I might just be in love with him. I’ve never said it, never wrote it, never even thought it -- except once when I saw this cute little pug puppy at the Beverly Center. But that's a different kind of love, I think. Will keep you posted, but so far, so good. We spent the entire weekend sightseeing –- took a chair lift to see a giant Jesus on a big hill (would love to sneak over at 3AM and pierce one of his bigass granite nipples), took a bus to see a favella (village) of people who are very poor yet very happy, not unlike JJ Walker on “Good Times.” And we got our picture taken on a plate in front of the old section of town. So if I ever get really pissed at Richard, I can cover his face with ketchup and pretend his head’s bleeding… or just smash him into pieces against the wall.
Oh, shit! A stray dog just bit me! Richard says I have to stop blogging and go to the hospital cause I might have rabies. Yikes! Bye.