Hoping Brazil gets crushed in the next world cup

Hot as hell. I hate summer in Madrid. All i do is sweat. 


Today i turn my ire towards South America, and Brazil. Maracondes is from Brazil. He's so loud and speaks like a 7 year old in the worst Spanish imaginable. He talks out loud to himself. There is no doubt in my mind that Annie, at this moment,  is already smarter than he and Eduardo put together. He was supposed to have moved to London by now to work, but i have come to the conclusion that it is all a lie. First he told me June. Then he said, "no, July." Now it is August. Both he and Edward are compulsive and pathological liars. I don't think the moron is ever going to England, even though our house has been flooded with clothing and glasses that all have the Union Jack on them. How could someone with no education and no marketable skills get a work permit for England? To do cleaning work? They are the strictest country in the whole EU. And he can't speak a single fucking word of English. The only reason i wish they were heterosexual is that then i would be justified in offing them in the name of strengthening the gene pool before i leave. But once again, i am out of luck.


Friday, my Editor and i are off to Bilbao in the north for the weekend. Basque Country. 52F at night. I can't wait!