Hey you, yes you. Is there anyone else that I coul

d be talking to? Read this. Just the beginning part and if you don’t like it then don’t read it. I wont force you. And if you decided to read this, you might be wondering what the title means. Well it’s a mindless waste of paper and ink as it is about (NO, you dimwit, it isn’t about the Windows Millennium Edition!!!) me, the writer, who is simply telling you (the reader) about his boring and melodramatic life. Now that you know the meaning of the title lets, us begin this waste of time.

I was born in Karachi, on the 12th of September in the early nineteen eighty’s, along with two other babies, but not from the same mother. I was a healthy baby boy of nine pounds and a loud voice. I was the second born, of my mother, but the biggest by my mother. I was told that I was a troublesome baby, but hey, how do I know what happened or what I did seventeen and a half years ago. Anyway, that’s enough about my birth. (If you want to know more, feel free to contact my lawyer, who is currently in a coma due to a head injury sustained while guest starring in the Jerry Springer Show)
I was christened after twenty- one days of my birth and was named Hassan, after one of the Imam’s in my religion, Islam. And through these seven-teen and half years, I have proven my name wrong in it’s meaning except in a few certain aspects. I started to speak at the tender age of two and a half years, and my first word, as my elders tell me, is “Chicken”. I still wonder, to this day how I said it, but for some strange reason or the other, all of my favorite foods and dishes are or contain some form of chicken in them.

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I grew up to be large and tall, and due to this I was kicked out of kindergarten and promoted to grade I. This was the first and last time I was double promoted, not because of my intelligence of because of my size. Like they say SIZE DOES MATTER!!!!’
Anyway, enough of that. I must have shifted more cities than anyone else in my age, except the babies of nomads. I first lived in Karachi, my birthplace and then I moved to Islamabad and then back again after two years, to Karachi and then again after three years to Islamabad and the again back to Karachi and then I was shot to, not Karachi (THANK GOD!!) but to merry olde England. There I spent five happy years as a “small” kid, living with his wonderful parents and siblings, and not like a tennis ball being hit to and fro between Karachi and Islamabad.
Here in, England, I grew both vertically and horizontally with everyone telling me that I was cute and cuddly, and now the tell me that I am fat (OUCH!!) and huge and need dieting and exercising (I swear, I live with strange people, don’t I!!!!) Anyway, I was pretty popular in England, due to my size and softness. The girls would gather around me (to stay warm, but some how I always forget to tell this to my friends when I talk about my childhood. I wonder why?) I grew up with chocolate in my hands, girls surrounding me and boys wanting to be friends with me and I got along pretty well and life was treating me good. Until I was shot back to Karachi, where I lost things that I loved and gained things, which I deeply detested, and detest upto now.

I lost my unlimited supply of chocolates, long hours of T.V., fast food and yes girls!! And I gained Urdu, Sindhi, lousy T.V. programs, etc etc etc, and worst of all an all boy school!!!!!!!!
I started to hate school and dreaded going everyday but somehow this all past me like a slow speeding bullet, until I reached class eight, where it started to gain momentum after all the years since I had returned to Karachi. Girls and another topic, started to fill my mind, and now playing with the boys started to sound really dull, as I was now entering a crucial stage in my life puberty’. This was a wonderful stage in my life and new things started to open up, as well as old things (which I saw in a new perception), especially after I came’ for the first time. I now took things in a different perspective. I started looking at girls, adoring girls, worshipping girls; in fact most of my mind was occupied with girls and another topic (If you are one of the intelligent people, who are actually reading this crap of mine, you would know what the other topic is, and if your re not the intelligent people I think you are, then TOUGH LUCK!!!). And due to this I paid heavily. With girls on my mind, as well as the other topic, my savings vanished, along with most of my parents’ savings as well, never to be seen again, my spare time, my loss of T.V. time, and my spare time and my grades but still, for some strange and dumb reason, I wouldn’t mind re-living that part of my life over and over and over and over again.

Anyway I am coming close to finishing seventeen or is it sixteen (never mind) years of my life. I would have written in much more detail but I have other things (girls and another topic) on my mind and right now they seem more important than this waste of toilet paper. But the main reason I wrote this, is that I can still remember how normal I was as I am embarking on a dangerous, terrifying and life-threatening mission. The place is not far away but is in Saddar. To be more precise, it is in Grammar School (KGS), where I am obliged to give my O-level examinations. But to be completely honest with you, I wrote this s**t because I was bored and felt like annoying someone. And that someone is, well I just don’t know. Wait a minute that some one is you!!!
Hey!!! Wait a minute, sorry about that. Just bear me for a few more words or to be exact 599 words (Count them, if you don’t believe me, beginning with HEY’). As you know you can always add a few things to your story or essay, so I wrote about two more years in my boring and melodramatic life.

Well I finished the mission barely. The ending was not the ending that I wanted it to be; the ending that people predicted for me was my dream ending (I bet you to say that 5 times, really fast). After the result of my O-level mission I went into shock. I decide to commit suicide, so I went out and brought sleeping pills. I took an overdose and thenyeah, it didn’t work as you can see. I took 50 pills and was knocked out for 20 hours. DAMN, I wish I wasn’t so big!!!!
Anyway that stage passed and I became my happy go lucky type again until I was thrown in a school to do my A-levels. The school which I was thrown into was a Homo S_____ School called St’ Pats. (By the way it’s Homo sapiens. What were you thinking?) I joined the school and man was I scared at first. Sure I was delighted to go to a coed school but the place had so many ninjas’ it was scary. But I got used to it. But trust me beginning a Patrician was no easy job. You got the name, Patrician gays (or is it guys???), the studying people, the its and the that’s and everything. But still life had gotten better. There where girls everywhere, not exactly everywhere but after every tenth or eleventh guy there was a girl. So again my mind started to fill up with girls and the other topic (now that I have matured 2 years I’ll give you a hint on the word. It begins with s’ and everyone try’s to do it. And that’s all I’m telling you pervs out there. And the topic isn’t SEX’). And now its time for me to set off on another dangerous, terrifying and life threatening mission, my A-levels. And no this time I didn’t write this to remind me how normal I was but I wrote it for the @$%;#* yearbook. I was tossed this essay into my face and was told to write it again because of too many DRAMATICAL errors and to write about Pats. But BLLAAAHHHH!! (I’m sticking my tongue out). I have gotten so annoyed with this essay (Man, my original idea really works.), that I feel like trying to commit suicide again, but no this time I won’t. I’ll face it like a man. So to all of you people out there, take my word, came to Pats if the ratio improves or you’re a nerd or someone who likes to be a dork or just because your stark raving mad. And now to end this stupid, boring, waste of toilet paper, and overall headache with a kind saying.
I had two years of my eight-teen and a half years spent in Pats, and I don’t know if they are my best, second best or even worst years, but all I can say I enjoyed my stay and am leaving with memories which I will cherish and hold dear to my heart and mind forever. And also with a group of friends which can never be replaced.

And remember I said come to Pats on a few conditions; well I WAS AND STILL AM STARK RAVING MAD!!!!!!!!!!!!