God damn it. I hate when you accidently quit an application when you have a ginormous, unsaved document almost completed.

*rips out hair*

I'll start again, probably not in as much detail, but here's my bizarre weekend.

Two hours after my sister left the apartment for work, I woke up, took a badly-needed shower, cleaned up a bit, and waited for my mom to arrive. She needed to pick up a suitcase for her business trip to Boston. After chosing which formal outfits and suitcases she should take, we decided to go to lunch at a nearby Indian restaurant. We called my aunt, Kikko, who was on her way home from work, to ask whether she wanted to come along. She accepted the invitation and when she arrived at the apartment, we shoved the suitcase into her tiny car, asked the apartment manager whether we could park there for a few hours and walked to the restaurant.

Two bites into her naan, Kikko suddenly closed her eyes, put an expression of utter discomfort on her face, and started swaying violently, grabbing on to anything she could; my mom, the table, the wall. After two minutes, she came out of the dizzy spell, describing it to be similar to the Tea Cups at amusement parks. We figured it was just a one time thing, so we let it pass and worridly continued to eat our curry and naans.

A few minutes later, the same thing started and my mom told me to tell the manager to call an amublance. "How the hell am I supposed to know who's the manager?!?" She told me to get the waitress and explained our situation. "Could we also get this curry to-go?"

I was then appointed a few tasks. [1] Go to the apartment and tell the manager that the car won't be moved until the evening and [2] to go home so my grandma wouldn't be alone. On the way back from the apartment to the train station, I saw an ambulance parked outside of the building where we were eating. I stared blankly for a few seconds thinking "wow, that ambulance is for my auntie!" I realized that I was stalling my mission and rushed to the train.

Out of breath, I searched desperately for a place to sit. I found two double-seats facing each other, 75% of which was taken up by a fat Japanese man. I squeezed my way into the remaining 1/4th. After the doors at the first stop closed, the fat man started to mumble about how he was going to be late to tennis and how he had to take the bus home again, etc. This went on for two stations and after the announment for my station came up, he suddenly asked "Do you have a watch?" I was spacing out, so it took him about four tries before getting my attention. I reached into my coat pocket for my iPod and he stopped me saying, "no, do you have a wrist watch?" "Errr, no. (Can't you see that by looking at my naked wrists, you chubby dolt?)" When we got to the station, I told him the time according to the platform clock, but he shrugged it off with no sign of gratitude.

Kikko and my mom came home in the evening, the diagnosis being a low hemoglobin count. (Hemoglobin is a pigment found in red blood cells which carries oxygen through the blood stream. Thanks biology class! Since I had no idea what the technical Japanese diagnosis was, I did some independent research and found that she has been diagnosed with anemia.)

Mia came home from work, we ate dinner where my aunt had another spell (blood goes from her head to her stomach, which is not good when there is a lack of oxygen all together), and Mia and I said our goodbyes to make an appearance at a friend's exhibit. We got there two minutes after the exhibit closed, so after looking at the artwork in the dark, we socialized with some foreigners and artsy Japanese folks, and excused ourselves early in order to get ourselves home inexpensively.

The last thirty minutes of trains in Tokyo are a disaster. All of the people who have drank themselves incoherent and have remembered to check the time find themselves on these trains. Two such bozos were in the same car of the train we took home and vomited. The more sensible of the two got off at the next station while the other just sat on the floor next to his puke. Japanese people are too polite to scurry away from those who are potential spewers, but once they vomit, they stand up with a "I wanted to stand anyway" look on their face and go off to the next car. It is like a ripple of emptiness around the victim of public humiliation. What an experience.

We got back to the apartment and watched Tube Tales, a series of short films that take place on/have to do with the London Underground. Each has a different, British director, two of whom are Ewan McGregor and Jude Law. Good little stories and very British. Oh, I almost forgot. On Saturday, I finished watching Magnolia, which goes onto the list of my favorite movies. All of these different characters (superbly casted and acted) are involved in several different plots which weave into one story. I was on the verge of tears for the last fourty-five minutes, but it was an amazing film. Highly recommended to those who like good movies.

I spent plenty of time online today aswell, and Tessa and I re-e-visited Europe and Calle, Nisse, and Pelle, the Landeberg Twins (grrowl) and, Tessa, after becoming midly retarded, got re-saved by Miracle Bob.