Dear diary journal,

Blegh, “diary” is so elementary school. But, who am I to talk? I still wear Hello Kitty pj bottoms to sleep. Now, before I go on and say anything else about how immature I am, let me lay out a few things I hate about my life at this moment:

1. People at school think being me is a breeze. WRONG.
2. They think this lifestyle is perfect. WRONG.
3. Everyone at school thinks that I’m spoiled just because…
4. MY DAD’S FAMOUS!!! … !

WRONG. WRONG. WRONG. RIGHT.

So what if he is famous? That doesn’t mean anything. Now, you may be wondering who exactly my dad is, but before I get to that let me point out flaws that no one notices about “celebrity children”:

1. When your dad/mom is famous, you have expectations to live up to. If I fuck up in public and the paparazzi is around - I’m a disgrace. Okay, not a disgrace… just a fuck up.
2. If my dad/mom is famous, they’re never around (he’s only around when he’s not on tour/recording). Right now I honestly have no clue what my dad looks like - I think he has a beard. Or maybe that was just that freaky neighbor kid who thinks he’s the shit because of that beard. Ew.
3. They fuck up too. I’m just a kid but my dad’s messed up a lot more times than I have. Of course he has flaws… like not showering after a concert (blegh!), leaving his smelly socks on the floor or worst of all… forgetting I exist. (Not to mention he and mom have been getting in fights ((more like arguments, really)) lately.)

So lately I’ve been pretty bitchy (“oh, she’s just become a teenager” as mom said countless times) and then dad confronted me about it and said, “alice, If something’s bothering you just let me know,” and then he handed me this journal and rambled on about how I should write my “feelings” into this thing and one day when I’m older I’ll look back on it and laugh on how much of a bitchy teenager I was. Harhar, you’re so funny, dad. A real riot!

THIS LEAVES ONLY ONE THING LEFT ABOUT MY LIFE:

1. MY DAD IS RYAN ROSS, GUITARIST FOR PANIC AT THE DISCO. (really, I’m younger - post ! Mark - and I’ve told him to bring it back BUT HE WON’T LISTEN!!!!!!!!!!!!)

_________________________
YES/NO?

This message has been edited. Last edited by: Marshall,

looks intresting....i say yes

me tooooo

and if you need anyone for anybody IM HERE

I also say yes...and also wonder if i can be someone for someone too

If I need someone I'll let you know. Although if I do add others, they'll be mentioned since it's like a journal entry.

-name test-

That sounds cool...and my name is Sophia by the way

Please continue

Nice to meet you, Sophie. I'm Cassie(:

There's a chance I'll update tomorrow since we'll be on break for Thanksgiving. Hopefully, it'll be longer!

Entry Two

Dear journal,

I feel like I need to improve on my writing so this is me TRYING to make it look nice and neat… harhar. SO.

Yesterday was quite exciting. Quick run down:

Friday: I got home, surprised that mom was there… cleaning (usually she cleans like once a month and even then she’s lazy) and when I ask why she goes, “WELL, I took the liberty of logging onto your MySpace-slash-Facebook (HOW DID SHE GET THE PASSWORD???) and I sent a message to all of your little friends and invited them for a sleepover over.” … WHAT? NO. I DID NOT GIVE YOU PERSON TO INVITE MY -- wait, WHAT friends? I don’t have friends… why would anyone want to come to my house to begin with? So, I stormed upstairs and checked who she had invited. SHE’S SUCH A GENIUS. She deleted all the sent messages so I couldn’t check who’d she’d send it to. I’m a goner, I swear.

Saturday: I was lounging around in my Pjs, watching cartoons when mom walked in and asked if I had cleaned my room. When I said “no” she flipped and said we had company coming over and she would not like them to “get the impression that we’re slobs.” So, I was sent upstairs to clean my room, EVERY SINGLE INCH OF IT. I vacuumed, cleaned the windows, vacuumed again, made my bed, cleaned my closet (‘cause they’ll really want to go in there!!!?) and VACUUMED FOR THE THIRD TIME. After about… two hours mom said my room was “decent enough,” and made me go shower. As soon as I had put on my shirt I heard the doorbell ring. Shit. Before I got downstairs and mom opened the door and had already invited them inside our living room.

SO. MOVING ONTO THEIR REACTIONS…

Apparently, they were amazed about how “simple” our house was. I’m not going to lie and say it was a billion square feet and we had maids and butlers (how sick would THAT be, though?!) and all we did on our weekends/free time was lounge around the pool -- attempting to get a tan. I lead them upstairs and into my room. Apparently, they liked it. (They all said how they’re extremely jealous that I have my own balcony! Doesn’t everyone have one??) Now, the only thing about these girls was that… they were the popular girls. All blonde (blergh! I was blonde when I was a baby and then I got dark hair like my dad. WAY TO GO FATHER, WAY TO MOTHER TRUCKIN’ GO.) and they all giggled and squeeled when even the name, “Ryan,” was mentioned. FANGIRLS MUCH? Personally I’m all for people supporting my dad in his job but seriously people… GIVE IT A REST, YOU’RE MAKING HIM SHIT HIMSELF WITH YOUR SQUEELING. (and not the good type of shitting that’s like ‘YEAH, just what I needed.’ but like ‘GREAT. JUST WHAT I NEEDED!!!… !’)

OH MY GOD. A CAR JUST PULLED INTO THE DRIVEWAY… WHO IS IT? WHO IS IT? I THINK IT MIGHT BE DAD. I should really stop writing in all capitol letters. LIFE DOES NOT HAVE A CAPS LOCK.

(P.S. I’ll continue about the sleep over like… LATER)

I like this story!

i love this story!! *is excited*

j'mappelle PIPPA

Entry Three

Journal (I REALLY NEED TO NAME YOU),

Mom and dad are arguing again. Can they just get a divorce and leave me out of their fights?

The girls and I were getting along when mom came in and decided it would be fun to give each other makeovers (she's just REALLY girly, no big deal.) and all the girls stare at me, as if waiting for me to throw some kind of tantrum for the invasion. But no... I let mom do what she wanted - she HAD been the one to invite them anyway! I think they were expecting a butler to come into the room and took me into bed or something when we were all going to sleep. One girl even said, "like, uh, like, where's your butler, seriously. i'm like thirsty and i'm not going to go downstairs and like, get it myself." when I told her we didn't have a butler she freaked out and then said, "WHAT DO YOU MEAN? MY DADDY IS NOT FAMOUS AND WE HAVE A BUTLER." What kind of world does SHE live in? Never in my fifteen years of being alive do I remember having a butler/maid/someone else to clean/look after us.

UH OH. Dad's calling me downstairs. I'll be back in a second.

....

GUESS WHAT. DAD'S BEEN HERE FOR LIKE TWO HOURS AND HE JUST TOLD ME, "We're throwing you a sixteenth birthday party, Alice." Now a few choices are up to me:
Venue (I was thinking the new Angels & Kings that Pete opened here in Vegas?)
Musical act (I like The Cab, maybe I'll get them? I don't know.)
Food (I'll let mom take care of this bit.)
Birthday present (dad said we can go to Europe as a family and actually go SIGHT-SEEING instead of just being there for like... a day and staying in the tour bus or a car.)

I'm leaning more towards Europe, actually. I'll let Uncle Petey spoil me with Clandestine clothes

By the way, I've yet to tell you my name, dear, dear journal:

My name is Alice (my dad's a big 'Alice in Wonderland' freak so I'm named after that) my middle name is Lucy (Y'know like... 'Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds' by The Beatles - my dad's like their biggest fanboygirl) Ross. SO ORIGINAL, DAD.

(DON'T WORRY, I'LL NAME YOU SOON!!!)

I'm obviously a dipshit :{|