Don't call the authorities

We are now in the midst of carnaval, which means we will not be leaving our house or turning on the TV until Wednesday.

Dancers revel in the street, setting off fireworks and playing samba music loud enough to make the roads shake. The parades, they say, are incredible. But I'm not a fan of naked women gyrating in high heels. It just doesn't do much for me. Or the backs of my eyelids.

If you're too lazy to click on the link, the easiest definition of Carnaval is Legal Sin until Lent. Endless drinking and not taking responsibility for being unconscious for four days, then pious denying-of-all-pleasure for forty days. I believe September is a very popular month to be born.

Carnaval is really into role reversal. The men dress as women and the women ... don't dress. The poor act like kings and the rich act like fools. No one sleeps. No one abides by traffic laws. No one works.

So here at home, where I often forget I'm in a foreign country, we decided to do a little role reversal celebration of our own.

Ice cream for dinner.

Ice cream = dairy. Bananas = fruit. Peanuts = protein. Chocolate chip cookies = primary food group. I see no problems with this.

Revel on, my Brazilians. Revel on.