So the weekend was awesome, though you wouldn’t be able to tell from my posting. Not only was I slogging through achy death until 4pm each day, it’s also a little rude to be like “oh wait, sister that I only see like three times a year, I have to not talk to you and make this obligatory blog post because I signed an online pact”. So despair not, now that I’m home for a few weeks I’m sure the weekend posting will improve. Or maybe not, if I keep drinking like I did these past two days.

We had a great time – out dancing on Friday night until 2AM, Saturday watching Desperate Housewives and scamming free samples at the grocery store near her apartment, followed by sushi dinner and more beer than you could shake a stick at. We were up until dawn talking shit and drinking vodka then slept un until 2:30 on Sunday. Thankfully, my flight wasn’t until quite late, so we still had time to stroll through Old Town in Alexandria and find the world’s most perfect Irish pub.

I didn’t take any pictures, though, and I couldn’t really figure out why. Sometimes when I’m really enjoying myself I don’t like to take time out to “capture the moment”, so maybe it’s that. My sister is the best – we’re five years apart, but it never seems that way, and if I had my druthers I’d be down there once a month just farting around, getting wasted and watching girly DVDs. And as much fun as I always have when I visit her, this time was the only time I cried when we said goodbye. I cried at security, pulled myself together until i got through the metal detector, then broke down again while walking to my gate. Mine was the last flight out of BWI, so there were hordes of people walking past me in the opposite direction and I, bleary-eyed, was forced to stumble upstream. I had a cocktail on the plane and read a book she’d loaned me, and Katsumi was a little late picking me up at the airport, which gave me the chance to be pissed off at him instead of filled with this aimless sadness. Honestly, though, I didn’t even have the willpower to pick a good fight. When I got home I totally lost it again – for like 45 minutes – and today my eyes are so puffy I can’t even put on mascara. I’m trying to avoid looking at anyone head-on.

the ferris wheel @ Santa Monica Pier

I hope she doesn’t read this because then she’ll be crying too, and there’s no need for BOTH of us to look like warmed-up shit on a Monday, but I can’t wait to go back to Alexandria and play darts at Murphy’s and drink cappuccinos at dusk. As I was flying in on Friday night, I got this feeling like I used to get in college when I would drive to Boston to see my long-distance boyfriend. Like, that thrilled, uncomfortable, excitable feeling that you just want to GET THERE and BE WITH THEM, and while I certainly don’t want to make out with my sister, I love her more than like anything else in the world. So that’s what you get for the Monday post.

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