Toothpaste never tasted this good...

Toothpastes are the wonders of inventions. My father tells me everyone had to brush their teeth with charcoal instead when they were younger. I wish they knew how it felt like to grow up with toothpaste.

Not all toothpastes though. No. There are toothpastes which have tendancies of filling your mouths with spit (Specifically Colgate). Over time, you'd start talking and sounding like a slug's nest had been built on the back of your tounge. Then we get toothpastes in little party packets they give us on the plane if we're flying over a longer period of time. They usually come in little black tubes the size of your thumb. Whenever I'm flying over and away from the Asian region (not often), it feel like a bar of soap had been lathered down in my mouth.

I like Oral-B. It has never let me down. Although, I have to say, toothpaste comercials do nothing but lie to us. My breath never leaves a trail of minty leaves whenever I talk or huff-a-puff. In fact, if toothpaste stays in my mouth for too long, it may start stinking up even more. If I went on a date with Oral-B breath, it might not go too well. I also don't get beautifully straight teeth whenever I brush them. They look the same as they did before... And I don't know about you, but let me tell you this; when I brush my teeth, my mouth bubbles uncontrolably with foam and spit. As unpleasant as it sounds, it's the realism of it all. Why haven't I once encountered a clean brushing experience like we see in ads?

Toothpaste and mint comercials give me fake expectations of breath and teeth.

Why am I telling you this? I like to ramble away about something most irrelavent to keep my mind off something. My english exam paper today was pretty chaotic. Not knowing what to expect, I had assumed it'd be the cherry on top of an icecream. I went in the exam room cocky, and came out a different girl. A changed girl. A girl who's pride had been ripped far apart from her.

I entered the room and the atmosphere instantly stranggled me with axiety! I opened the paper and I scribbled....
Scribbled....
Scribbled....
...I wonder how Mr. Klein pulled making three children off with Mrs. Klein... Hmm... Mrs. Klein is a pretty hot teacher...

Shit. Fifteen minutes left and all I have are these scraps of scribbles. Will this make sense? Maybe I should re-copy everything. Maybe not. What if I want to? Yeah OK, I think I can make it.

"Five minutes left" she shouts. Well Fuck you, what if I want to stay a little longer for the exam? Wait. What? Shit I can't. I have five minutes left and I've hardly re-copied everything. I think I'll leave this last page out and just hand it in anyway. If they fail me in this paper, I'll re-scribble everything out and tell them they've marked everything wrongly because they didn't give us enough time to write the expected standard of an essay. I'll tell them they've read everything incorrectly.

So I'm sick of contemplating on the what if's and the what not's. I'd rather forget all about my exams until the results are out. It's like waiting for dooms day. Except in a far worst situation, in a student's case.

I better be off now. I'm starting to feel the fustration raging out as I sit here trying to find the end of a sticky tape roll. I think I might have rubbed over it a couple of times now. Why do they have flies patterned around the roll? Was sticky tape invented to catch flies... Why's it stained with a flat smell of plastic... Oh right.

This is making me sick.