Of Being Sold To Slavery

Okay, so a few days ago I was whining about being intellectually thirsty.

Well today the school's Regional Administrator called me. They're making some brochure and wanted me to compile it because they've "seen" my newsletters and I'm an alumni.

So, I went there to see what they wanted. So, turns out, I'll be Assisting the Regional Administrator Rehman Amjad. So my designation is A.R.A.R.A.

Kash his name had Ghaffur Illyas in it, then I'll be A.R.A.R.A.G.I.

If anyone here watches the awesome show called Bakemonogatari here, they'll get this pun/joke/lame attempt at humor

Randomness aside, this still doesn't solve much. Since it's a top secret project and I'm supposed to keep my lips sealed. So I'm supposed to be in an isolated room in school. Oh well. And it's supposed to be for free. They expect that I should be happy that I'm getting my name published in print. I wouldn't mind a cheque instead of my name being published...

Oh yeah. When I was coming back from the RO. I stopped by this bakery and these two Japani Khawateen were there. One was as old as my grandma, the other younger. The older one knew urdu and was conversing with the bakery wala. So, after carefully eavesdropping and confirming that they were Japanese, I went up and (in my barely acceptable and somewhat broken Japanese) asked them if they were from Japan. We exchanged pleasantries and the younger one (who's still older than my mom) seemed quite impressed by the effort I was making and wished me good luck and hoped I get my wish to visit Japan some day fulfilled. All this time the bakery wala was giving me a dirty look. Oh well. Just goes to show you that not all Japanese people are petty and insane. Majority of them are quite nice. 3 to 1 odds prove that.

Cheers.

This Sub-Par Blog Post has been made possible by Ali Abdul Muhammad's constant distraction.