From Samba to Scraped Knees

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This morning, I took the kids to see the dollar viewing of Rio at Regal Cinema. It reminded me of the time I was in Brazil. Trust me when I say that when Brazilians aren’t protesting the rate of public transit in the streets of São Paulo, they are having one rip roaring good time in the night clubs. I never was much of a club- goer even when I was single and still looked decent in a tube top. But, apparently night clubs in Brazil are about as common as Waffle Houses in Georgia. And well, when in Rome, right?

I wish I had pictures of my Brazilian night club experience, but it is probably better for my witness that I don’t. Picture wall to wall bodies dancing until the wee hours to a live Funk band that would make G Love cry in his Special Sauce. Dancing all night will make a girl hungry. Not to worry. The clubs stay open until 10am and they serve breakfast!

Funny how watching two squawking animated birds can bring the memories flooding back.

Snap to reality: We interrupt this little stroll down memory lane to bring you a nasty fall and the last of the Shrek band-aids. My how we’ve come a long way from Samba to scraped knees.

{Image via Rookie of Life}

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