You know you're officially in a writers room when someone is describing their sisters' funeral in grim detail, there's a long awkward pause, and it's finally broken by another writer who goes “You gotta use that” and the mourner responds “Oh yeah, that's definitely going in a script” without a trace of irony.
Whether it’s Texas de Brazil, Fogo de Chao or whatever; the thing at a Brazilian steakhouse is you essentially have to use the same logic you’d use at a strip club: don’t make eye contact unless you want someone coming over with meats.