Brazil is out.

I still can't believe that we lost the match on Saturday. I mean, it's been 14 fucking years since the last time we beat France, and the episode of 98 doesn't make it any better.
I went to this bar to watch the game with my roomates and ugh, I was the ONLY one there rooting for Brazil. I'd look around too see only French soccer outfits and blue, white and red flags hanging from everywhere. They'd hoot like no tomorrow every fucking time Brazil'd be on the screen, and that pissed me off. It's a matter of respect, you know? Between people, between cultures, between nations.

Anyways, I was feeling awful. It felt like they'd kick me out by any moment and I wasn't getting to stand the little jokes and stuff. So I stayed there for the first half of the match then sneaked out during the break. There is this brazilian bar down the street and I didn't have to think twice before going there. Guess what? I didn't hear anybody hooting at France. Not even once. You see? It's a matter of respect, I'm telling you.

And, well, it felt just like home.

Despite Brazil lost the game, everybody went to the street and started singing and dancing brazilian music as if Brazil had actually won. After 15 minutes or so, French people began to join us and, well, everything ended up in samba.