26 December, 2006, 1124 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

It looked like Santa had thrown a few elves down our gas fireplace so they could shit out presents and pre-ripped wrapping paper for me, Rachael, and Alexa. Not that I’d know, since I got up late. On the drive, I directed my mom up 95 through DC and Baltimore, and then up 83 to 81. She didn’t trust me much, but she trusted me enough, which was good, because I figured it out and got us here safely, totally without getting us lost. When we got here, to the Lehigh Valley, we just played Guitar Hero II with my cousins, a lot, and they kept bringing up D-Slice, a lot, since they somehow know he plays and is beast at it, and they practically worship him. I felt like I was talking about him way too much, but that’s to be expected since I missed him so much, too much. And they asked questions, too, so I don’t think they minded, really. How tall is he? Liz laughed hysterically at my reply. Can he play this song on expert? Would he mess up this part? No, he could play it without looking at the screen. Is he a douche bag (from Sean, who got a hoodie with a zipper that even lines the hood, so he keeps zipping it up over his head)? I felt like I was bragging about him, but what’s not to brag about, and why not? He’s wonderful. I’m so lame. And by now, he’s in London.

Sunny London by Wurz on Flickr

I slept over at Liz’s, but at about 9 this morning, my mom came into her room with her green jacket on, to take me back to the hotel.  Zombie-like, I wondered why, and she alerted me that Liz and Billy had been barfing, so I needed to leave.  All I could think was, “Shit, I’m glad I’m not sick.”  When I got to the hotel, Alexa told me I had a steel stomach and that I wouldn’t get sick, no way (was that a compliment?).  I don’t know, though.  I never get sick with everyone else, when it involves barfing.  I get isolated illnesses, like when I was 13 and my whole family was out to dinner, and I puked up grapes in the toilet.  I can take care of myself when I’m sick, but only if I’ve been eating fruits, apparently.  I had Cheerios, a muffin, and apple juice this morning, and yesterday I had heaping portions of corn and mashed potatoes, and a little pie.  I really don’t want to barf, and I really want to go “out” somewhere, anywhere, maybe with kids my age, so I won’t feel so young and so old at the same time.


At 3, though, my father is picking us (as in me, Rachael, and Alexa) up and bringing us over to his parents’ house to make appearances and eat dinner.  The crazy thing about my parents:  Not only did they both grow up here in Bethlehem, they also grew up in the same neighbourhood.  Once, when Liz and I were bored with Independence Day festivities at the Connors place (I brought her along for good measure), we attempted to walk to the McDonald place, but we got a little lost along the way.  It’s like my parents are already split up, and we’re dividing appearances.  It’s weird.  The older I get, the less I want to go to either place.


1 Comment so far
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HAHAHAHAHHA STEEL STOMACH!!! that rocks. i want steel-hard abs now. :)
i didn’t know they grew up in the same neighborhood…

Comment by divya

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