There are only 49 days left until the end of 2025, and the Mega-Sena da Virada groups are already frantically blowing whistles again. Every year I guarantee that it will be my last, and that I will never get involved in this again. The practical side from my point of view is knowing that it is clearly an investment with no return. Then I remember the story of the bartender at Cervantes who was left out of the pool of jobs, he was the only one who didn’t get any money from the winning ticket at Quina de São João and had to open the bar on his own the next day.
- close you, Mass defeat
- steak Who deserves pardon?
Interestingly enough, this story only haunts me this season. Maybe due to not being able to arrange everything for next year. The solution is to throw it into the universe and see what happens. Each one in his own way. There are those who shift responsibility to others and say: God willing; There are those who draw ideal scenarios of impossible goals on flawless spreadsheets just to wash their hands; There are those who appeal to sympathy and superstition. My kind of people.
A friend who had never given up whiskey thought it was ridiculous to devote the last night of the year solely to champagne. “The lady’s drink,” he said without fear of sounding prejudiced. In order to be able to drink in peace, he played the sympathy card. In search of love? The drink should be sweet, such as liqueur or fruit cocktail. lightness? Sugar-free caipirinha puts an end to bad energy and clears the way. All this is to ensure that if it remains with the whiskey, the golden color of the drink will attract money in the near future.
To be fair, he didn’t just use these tricks to his advantage. Sometimes I would come up with some last minute information to make someone happy. At one of those elegant parties, a waiter’s misstep caused a glass of red wine to fly onto the first white dress he saw. Before things got heated in the room, he said: “I expect a year full of fiery emotions. It’s a sign of love, my dear.” It was enough for the girl to turn fashion tragedy into butterflies in her stomach.
This obsession wrapped in good luck accompanied him throughout the year. He refused to settle the account with an odd number of doses. He said it had the same effect as walking under the stairs on Friday the 13th. prattle. It was just a cheap trick to trick people who wanted to leave and have another drink. With the calculations getting worse with every sip, this twisted calculation has many people watching the dawn at the bar table.
Using the extraordinary as justification, he carried out his little rituals for the joy of adult life without having to offer much explanation. Over time, I realized that I was following the same path and creating my own rituals. A perfect night for me starts with a Daiquiri and ends with a Dirty Martini. With three olives, always. One for the body, one for the mind, and one for the soul. What happens between one thing and another is history.
In end-of-year celebrations, some superstitions have a permanent place. Toast with the right hand, do not cross the toast and remain firm face to face. For a more hard-core crowd, cup toasts just aren’t enough. The trick is to salute the bottle as well so that the fountain never runs dry. The thing that really stands out to me is drinking without toasting, seven years without kissing. Since I am not a person who looks up to a saint, I perform all these rituals so as not to say later that no one warned me. health.
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