seriously, fuck my life.
Because Mrs. Ferris retired, the fashion class isn't being offered.
I told my dad the only way I'd live with him is if I got into
the art school in Manhattan or something.
I hope he's serious, I just don't want to live with him.
I borrowed Helen's Uggs.
I didn't really ask to borrow - she kind of just offered the borrowing.
So, I was like OH HEY COMFY SHOES GIMME GIMME.
I was wearing them today and then I was sitting on my dad's
car and got some sweet car grease/oil on one shoe.
Way to ruin $120 shoes, danielle. way to fucking go.
So, I told Helen. She's allowed to be mad, but I really hope
she doesn't hate me or anything. I'm gonna try and fix them.
My dad pisses me off to the point of not being able to deal.
The things he says and the little things he mentions that I know
he knows bothers me. Mentioning him not letting me move to
California, Billy and me being as violent as him or just like him.
I don't want to be like him and I just uigsdgdsjg. whatever.
I need a job and a big hug from someone who's
too busy working right now. So he says.
I'm looking forward to Saturday at FIT and that's it.
Oh, and seeing Little Danielle.
Oh and my dad might get me a ticket to fashion week. unless it's over? i don't even know anymore.