Mint and Beans

Hullo.
How do you do?
I'm doing well, thank you.
I've finished my lunch, and the time has come for me to brush my teeth. The food was excellent, but my mouth didn't sit well with the after-taste.
I suppose I should be doing what I was told to do, especially after I said I was doing what I was told what should have been done. Silly me.
My teeth are very clean now- they feel as slick as shark-skin. Or dolphins? Whatever tickles your fancy, darling.
What would you do if it took you seven years to fill a composition notebook with your thoughts?
I haven't finished mine, but I'm so close. About five pages left until it's completely used up. I should be doing physical writing, but I guarantee you that e-journaling (commonly referred to as blogging) is much more faster. It isn't personal at all. Oh, the beauty of our generation! Look at me! Look at me!
Our natural ability to cause attention to ourselves without having to be, "HI MOM, IT'S YOUR KID" on television now concerns me. Myspace whores at the age of 13, giving their phone numbers out to 22 year olds on the internet because it's cool. Teenaged supermodels, like Karlie Kloss, who's only 15. Reality shows that 'document' teen lives, like Laguna Beach and Newport Harbor. Teen socialites, like Cory Kennedy and Jackson P. Holy shit! How crazy is our generation now? Hungry, thriving, yearning for their fifteen minutes.
I miss the days of hokey movies and classy vocals. Does Charlie Chan or Peerry Como come to mind?
I admit to being sucked into the "ME ME ME" generation. I can't say I can't help it, because I can. I just have poor self-control.

What a day, what a day, what a pickin' day today has become!

Woke up to the telephone ringing.
"Good morning, Kimberlee! How are you?"
"... Argh... hi?"
"I'm sorry, did I wake you up?"
"Yes."
"Oh- I was just calling for a confirmation."
"This is her daughter."
"May I speak to Kimberlee?"
"Ah," scratch my head, trying to wake up in the bright lit living room, "She's, ah, not here."
"Oh, erm... is there any other number I can reach her at."
"She'll be back... ah... ghmm... later thissnight."
"Okay," slightly annoyed, "Thank you. Have a good day."
"Yerm too."

And to think it was my grandmother calling to see if I was going to work on my essay for that scholarship, or the madre waiting to give me a laundry list of chores.
Oh, this place is still looking like a hell hole, five hours later. I better get cleaning or I'm doomed.

Hej hej,

ANY.