“Oh my goodness Mandy, I think I’ve traveled back in time, it’s 2007 right now isn’t it?”
“Yeah so for some reason I’m still thirty, you’re seventeen, not twenty seven, sure Jeremy, really convincing.”

“What, you’re not twenty?” Jeremy giggled, he knew his time travel was a failure.

“If only I could be seventeen again, I could have changed everything that is my life now.”

Save me the embarrassment.

‘Mom’, I exclaimed, ‘You’re not coming with me in that’. It’s not like one day I grew up, and wanted to discard my parents. No. It’s just that they don’t understand me. My Dinosaur mother just didn’t go through what I’m going through, and to have your mom dressed in daggy clothes was the last thing a fifteen-year-old girl needed.

‘Bad news’, dad enters into the room declaring.

‘I’m adopted’, I taunted.

‘It looks like we may need to sell some of our belongings to cover the rent for the house’, dad continues. I started to begin to envision  all of the things I had come to store up over my teen years, and what  sort of prioritization I could afford in discarding my somewhat less- needed items.

‘This is the worse I’ve ever been treated in life’, I exclaim thundering out of the lounge, into the study.

‘Wait until you get married’, mom exclaims.

‘Miles, can we talk?’ dad says.

‘God, what?’ I shout, pulling my right earplug out of my ear.

‘Forgot, dad should leave message on daughter’s MySpace rather than addressing her’, he mutters quietly to himself.

‘Oi’, I scream, as the revving on my annoying little brother’s Playstation blots out all of the noise in the house, ‘stop playing your stupid little car games’.

It’s not so much that I was an angst or hormonal teenager, or maybe it was, but if everyone around me could shut up and stop annoying me, maybe I wouldn’t be a pissed off so-called ‘typical’ teenager. After all, its thanks a lot to the Industrial Revolution that young people were displaced, causing the social construction of the categorization of ‘adolescence’.

‘Listen, I know I said I was going to buy you the new iPhone 3G’, dad continues, ‘but it seems like we are a bit tight on the budget, so…’

‘I was going to show it to all my friends so they wouldn’t think we’re that pov’, I interrupted, ‘Nice one dad – Thanks!’ I exclaim.

Mom was finally ready to head out. Not entirely, what you’d call exquisite or elegant, but at least endurable.

You see, we were going out shopping, and I had always fretted about shopping with my mother. Boys all know that girls one day turn out like their mothers, and imagine if a boy saw me with my mom. God, such depressive deliberation should not even come into the mind of a teen.

Anyway, the ride was great for it was a bright sunny day, and we were heading out to Chapel St Mall, which was the biggest, brightest, and best shopping precinct in town.

‘You look a bit emo today’, mom said as her eyes met mine, which received a tremendously ample application of black outliner this morning.

‘Emo?’ I taunt, ‘More like emo-mazing’.

Soon, we arrived at Chapel St Mall, and had found a free car park close by.

‘One small step for Miley’, I said stepping out of the car, ‘But one large step for Mankind’, I chuckled, and feeling fictitiously fantastic, but unsure as to whether what I had just said actually made any sense.

As I was about to race into the Atlantis of Shopping Malls, through the car park, before actually distancing five odd meters from our car, I find myself lying on the bitumen after knocking into a rather pale girl.

‘I’m sorry’, I quickly declare, trying to get myself off the ground and wiping my dusty hands on my skirt. The girl also lifts herself off the ground slowly.

‘I’m –’

‘Sara?’ I interrupted. I had seen her several times at school before, but I had never really talked with her for she was from a different cliché than me.

‘Oh no’, my mom cries out from behind, staring into her phone.

‘What?’ I sneered, ‘You just received an SMS from a space zombie from Pluto asking you to return to Planet Too-Too?’

‘Miley, I’m really sorry about this, but it looks like I will need to head off to work for an unexpected meeting which seems to involve a presentation to one of our biggest clients so I’m going to need to head off – have fun with uh–’.

‘Sara’, she says finishing off mom’s sentence.

I vowed to myself for the last time that if I were ever to become a mother, I’d be a real mom; one who actually cared more about the title of parent than the one on her business card.

Anyway, introduce yourself to Sara the Book Worm. Head honcho of the Pacific Coast High Book Club. I hated books with a passion, and in particular, the King and Queen of book land: the ‘book worms’. Sara wasn’t exactly ugly. She was hot, minus the braces; the fashion, hair and make-up, and maybe the fragrance…

‘And I have this massive dream where Jeremy Shum, who gets za ladies…’

‘Shut up Jeremy,’ she said butt in before I could finish my sentence, ‘you so do not’.

‘Why does everybody say that,’ I asked.

‘I don’t know,’ she giggled.

‘Anyway, I was wondering

What did the pen say to the pencil?

What’s your point?