So I guess today was Easter or something? My family doesn't really celebrate. We're not a celebrating type of family. Once a year my mom drags us to church to hear the handbells at the Christmas service, and to make up for not going to church the other 51 Sundays of the year. If I didn't need to do laundry, we probably wouldn't have gotten together. Don't feel bad for me, it's actually quite fine. This morning I finally got out of bed around 1. It was 3 when I went to bed the previous night, and Tosha called and woke me up today. We are so going out. She's the last one I talked to yesterday, and the first one I talked to this morning. Each conversation was around an hour. And the eight hours in between were spent sleeping. So absolutely nothing had happened since we last spoke, but we still found stuff to talk about. Yeah. We should get married. So we get off the phone, and I figure it's about time for me to get up and showered. Then my folks call and we plan our day. My sister went to church with her boyfriend, then ate with his family. So much food. She brought an Easter basket, half of a two-layered cake, and some teryaki steak home from Greg's. She could barely move she was so full. I had made some feta cheese biscuits for my fam whilst my laundry was laundering. She had a few bites of that. Then my dad and I went to see Panic Room. Holy crap! I would watch anything David Fincher directs. I mean, he could film an elephant pooping and I would be biting my nails saying, "oh-my-god-what's-gonna-happen-next?!?" The film was excellent. So, I had a nice time with my dad. Then we head back home and called to see if my mom wanted us to pick up the pizza on the way. Yeah. Pizza for Easter dinner. Like I said, we're not really into that. There's no answer, so we just head home. Well, Lindsay and Mom are both there, and we ask why no one picked up. The cordless had been taken downstairs, so there was nothing in the room my sister was in for her to answer. And she figured my mom would get it. Apparently Mom was outside. My dad gets back in the car and goes to Papa Johns to pick up our spinach pizza. Which by the way is damn good. But before he leaves, my mom tells us what happened while we were gone. I guess because she hadn't burst, Lindsay decided she needed to eat more. She had one and a half of my biscuit thingys, some of the steak, and the rest of the cake that we hadn't wolfed down. My mom walkes by the bathroom and the entire contents of my sister's Easter day were being deposited into the toilet. Which is what the Greeks used to do. Eat and drink until you puke, then go back for more. Which is exactly what she did. Ten minutes after she got done vomiting, she was back in the fridge. Now, my sister is not a big girl, by any means. She's tall, and she eat's like a horse, but she's in damn good shape (read:"bitch"). But it was still funny to see her looking for food right after she "let some go." My dad gets back with the pizza, and we basically aren't ever going to let her live this down. As we ate the pizza, she heated up some onion soup, put my dad's crust in it, had some more steak, filled a bowl with a banana, whipped cream, and sugarfree chocolate syrup. I mean, the girl never stopped.

Dear Lindsay,
Please slow down. I need time to regroup. Or at least time to breathe. Don't hurt me and I won't hurt you.
Love,
Your Stomach

At least, that's how I would guess that conversation would go. And now, here I am. Typing on their computer, waiting for my second load to come out, waiting until 9 so I can tape last week's episode of the Osbournes for Paul (not the evil one I dated, the one I graduated with). So, Happy Easter, everyone. I hope you laughed today as much as I did.