I'm sure you are all well aware of the earthquake in Chile this morning, so I'll skip the shit and go on with the rant. I'm skyping with my dad telling him about the whole earthquake thing. The subject changes to a car he's going to send next month (or was going to send, whatever), so he sends me the pictures. Turns out I dont' like the car, so I tell him the truth. I also say he needs a refund because the fucking thing is in terrible conditions. My mom comes in. She says the car is nice and that it's her favorite stinking color and stuff, but that it needs maintenance (sp?). So....here comes the shit. I've wanted a new Macintosh for ages. He spent like $5000 on that piece of junk, so I say he could've spent $4000 and gotten me a new Mac (of course I'm joking). He laughs and my mom does too. So he starts ranting about how much we need a new car and our actual car not working the way it's supposed to. He says he'll buy the Mac when he can. My mom starts laughing like maniac saying I'll never get the fucking Mac because I don't deserve it and that I'll have to work (btw, there's no work for people here that are 1. underage and 2. don't have a college degree. Or at least none that I know of) to get my Mac. See, the thing is that I'm really really REALLY into graphic design and photography, and I don't want the new thing to fuck around with it, I want it to STUDY and WORK with. I tell her that and she ignores me and laughs more. Since we're all "joking", but of course the thing's getting a bit thick, I pinch her sort of hard in a "joking" sort of way. She yells at me saying she won't tolerate any more violence from me (when she's the one that usually beats the shit out of me) and rats me out with my dad about it. He yells at me, and says I've grown up to be a bad young lady and that I should change. Needless to say, my mom yelled at me after we hung up with my dad, and beat me with a hanger (yes, the things we hang clothes on. Try hitting yourself with one, they hurt BAD) threw a candle at me and wrecked my room. Tomorrow she's going to rant about how messed up it is and how it's my fucking fault it's like that. Well, my TV was already broken because of the quake, most of my clothes fell off its place and my bed moved over a few inches. She just finished the inevitable: my bedroom is officially a disaster zone. I'm in my living room as I type this thinking about the fucking earthquake, the replicas and what would happen if me or my mom died right now. I feel like apologizing, but she'd just yell more and probably beat me again. Honestly, I don't know what to do.