I’m a zelebrity, get me out of here…

I’m a zelebrity, get me out of here…

I never watch reality TV shows, because they’re nothing like what they were before.
I’m talkin’ Big Brother Pre-2007, I’m talkin’ Dog The Bounty Hunter, and I’m talkin Paris’s New BFF, #TTYN

 

Tonight marks the start of borefest ‘I’m a celebrity (lol, you’re really not but your mum said you are so you must be) get me out of here’, which also cues the flurry people asking “errrmagaaad did you see I’m a Celebrity last night?”

No pal, one has better things to do.

I’m no critic, but I’m accustomed to the jazzier things in life, and this show is defo not jazzy.

First of all, someone is on this show who is ‘famous’ for sitting down and actually watching the TV, and I only know of Larry Lamb because I really enjoy alliteration.

Second of all, who allowed these people to leave their compound dressed as such?! They’re wearing the most confusing combination of clothing imaginable. If I were a celebrity in those clothes, I’d be all like ‘get me out of here’ too, because I would not be caught in any of those outfits.

*seven minutes later*

I won’t lie, I was going to watch this episode and give you a live feed of what I think, but I think I’d rather pluck my leg hairs out one by one and create a monobrow than watch this show.

In the words of Kimberly “Sweet Brown” Wilkins ,

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AIN’T NOBODY GOT TIME FO THAT

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The day I became a man

The day I became a man

For many men, the day they became men was a milestone to be celebrated.

In Judaism they have a Bar Mitzvah, in ancient Rome, new men assumed the ‘toga virilis'(Toga of Manhood’), and in my life, you just get called ‘sir’ when you wish to purchase a doll for your little friend.

My day started like any other, up at 5.45 to watch Spongebob, play with my dolls and chill out, when I decided just one doll was not enough.

I waited patiently for my mum to arrive home from work so she could chauffer me to my fave toy store, as my Cosy Coupe is no longer road worthy (I haven’t actually been able to fit in it for the past 15 years) but that’s beside the point.

When I arrived at Smyths, I perused the aisles, eyeing up all the bikes, swings and other play things until I found the aisle I was looking for – the doll aisle.

I decided I wanted a Tiny Tears, cos she has hair, and she cries, and wets herself all at the same time!

Once I had selected my doll, I proceeded to the check out…

I decided to queue behind one lady purchasing two items, which took about five minutes because the cashier decided it was an appropriate time to spend approximately 18 million years discussing her personal life over some Hot Wheels, 

So I went over to a man,  I believe he was named Greg.

I said hello, he did too.

I smiled and he said: “Would you like a bag?”

I politely declined.

“Would you like a free catalogue today, sir?”

 sir.

Sir.

SIR?!?!?!!

I am a lady, I protested, whilst still quite clearly offended that I had been called sir.
You find a man who looks like and I’ll eat my hat

fullsizerender

Shit,

 Well it’s a good thing I don’t actually have a hat.

First of all,

 I most certainly do not look like a man today – I was wearing make up for the first time in like 79 years, my nails were glittery and purple, and my legs were clad in tights, and semi-hidden by a skirt, so with this in mind, this rude check out man had the audacity to refer to me as ‘sir’, and then deny it, even though it was clearly audible, and my mother, of whom wasn’t even stood next to me, but near me heard it.

I didn’t even get a sorry!

The worst part about being called ‘sir’ is that just two short hours before, I had waxed my moustache .

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So, the likelihood of me visiting that particular toy store again is slim to none, maybe the day I become a real life sir I will, but for the time being, I think I’ll continue to be a Toys R Us Kid…

It’s upgrade time

It’s upgrade time

It’s upgrade time.

Every 24 months most of us upgrade our phones to the newer, bigger and bigger model, and that is what I shall do, except my upgrade is a little smaller than the current model I have.

So

I’ve just finished my second year at Canterbury Christ church university.

I won’t lie, it was kinda challenging, not academically, just morally and creatively, which is hard to admit,coming from someone who is insanely creative – I’m sure you’ve seen what I’ve done with eggs, butter and sugar.

 

My time in Canterbury has come to a premature end because of a wise decision I felt I had to make.

My first year of uni was fab, but the second year was literal torture.

I wasn’t happy at all in my house for the first term, if I wasn’t home in Bournemouth for the weekend, I’d be wishing I was at home, or facetiming my friends and family from the discomfort of my needlessly freezing cold room in the student house I shared (I, a bill payer, wasn’t allowed the central heating on) #guestinmyownhome.

A few short weeks after my 21st birthday I decided I couldn’t actually spend another year in a city I dislike, with people who aren’t so great either therefore, I began my research and found that The University of Winchester offer the same (better) course that I am doing and I began to create my application in secrecy, only confiding in my family and about 4 friends from home because there’s nothing more shameful than being rejected by a university, but thankfully, they accepted me for an interview and I was Amber, and by being Amber I got my unconditional offer to re-do my second year of university.

Undeniably some would say “haha you have to do another year of university”, but that doesn’t phase me – I’m already a year behind from changing sixth form, so what’s another year?
I see it as another year to do better, another year to make more contacts, and another year to decide what journalistic journey I want to travel on.

The odd thing is, I still actually haven’t told any of the people I’m living with 1) that I’m leaving today and should be arriving within the next hour or so

And 2) I won’t be returning to the area – I’m not bothered by either.

 

Not even sorry.

I’ll miss a select few, such as,  Shaniki, BP, Boil & Miranda, #shoutout, and Lily and I’m sure I’ll keep in contact with these cool kids because they’re so nice and kind – they’re real people, you feels me?

It’s okay Amber, I feel you.

My message I’d like to give to some people in Canterbury is – Don’t be banker, even if you don’t like someone, just be the grown up you claim to be, because if you act like a childish cnut, it will only emphasise and show that you are an actual cnut.
All of your actions have consequences and you have no idea of how it’s going to impact someone and their life.
It’s a good thing I’m Amber, because if I wasn’t, God knows what would have happened…

 

You’ll be pleased to know I’ll be blogging about my adventures and my very very wild lifestyle, just not from the grim county of Kent.

 

I GOT TWO WORDS FOR YOU

LOVELL OUT *DROPS MIC*

Thursdays with Amber, featuring Fi-dates.

Thursdays with Amber, featuring Fi-dates.

It’s Thursday, commonly known as everyone’s favourite day of the week!
I normally feature my favourite person ever, Doreen, yet today we are many miles apart, but a quick Crumpdate for you – Today, Doreen will be working on her law essay, and she threw in a cheeky ‘Spain’ for the blog.

Thanks Doreen, you’re a good sport.

 

Today, I’m joined by FiFi, she’s the coolest person I know. I don’t know if it’s because she’s only two, or related to me, but either ways, she’s so jazzy.

This morning, I visited Avonbourne to speak to the Year 12 pupils about their media case studies, and university courses and life at university. Although it sounds dull, all of those things are important to know!

I’m now home, with Fi, who says “I dat”… You know what Fi? I totally agree with you.

I feel I should set the scene.

Fi is sat across the table from me, wearing a furry Peppa Pig onesie, drinking hot chocolate out of the Peppa Pig mug she requested.
She’s got chocolate biscuits (The good kind) and a Donut, also the good kind, and is watching her favourite show…
When suddenly, she screams… Why?

Her biscuit broke in her hot chocolate – That’s it – She’s had her first taste of disappointment in life.
Fi, life hold plenty more disappointment, just you wait.

11.35AM

Fi is now in bed with her mother, sipping some milk, watching some TV, having some cuddles – Living the life rn.
Doreen’s most said word is ‘Spain’… FiFi says ‘Nooooooo-ey’ or ‘Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?!’ even though she agrees, or can hear what you say… Let us see how many times she utters those words this day.IMG_5968.JPG

11.48AM

Cuddles weren’t enough for her – she’s sat on my lap and I’ve been forced to put ‘Elsa ones’ on youtube.. Great.

It’s deadline day. May the odds be ever in your favour.

It’s deadline day. May the odds be ever in your favour.

 

 

I write this to you, even though I should not be writing to you, my audience.

It’s deadline day today and everything is finished, I just have to assemble my screenshots and links and pop some champagne, but other than that, I’m done.

I’m re-reading the brief to make sure I’ve included everything, when I saw this…

“At least THREE tweets, preferably more per story” 

I follow several million news outlets on Twitter, and the same story isn’t ever tweeted more than once… Why?
Because the followers would be annoyed at the constant regurgitation of a story… It will block timelines, ruin lives, and hurt eyes, and I am not about to do that.

What I am about to do is generate some more content, because everyone loves my content, my mum said.

 

argh

IT’S TUESDAY. TOMORROW IS DEADLINE DAY.

IT’S TUESDAY. TOMORROW IS DEADLINE DAY.

IT’S 5AM.

I AM AWAKE

I AM CLEAN.

I AM GOING TO THE GYM.

 

 

7AM.

I WENT TO THE GYM.

IT WAS HOT.(LIKE ME)

AND SWEATY (LIKE EVERYONE WHO GOES TO THE GYM) AND I’M NOW TIRED, BUT NO, I MUST WORK, WORK ON MY WEBSITE.

 

12PM

“DO YOU WANT TO GO OUT FOR LUNCH?”

ARE YOU SOME KIND OF CRAZY? OF COURSE I WANT TO GO OUT FOR LUNCH.

I LIVE AND BREATHE FOR MY NEXT MEAL, NEXT TIME DON’T ASK ME THAT SILLY QUESTION, INSTEAD, JUST CALL ME WHEN YOU’RE OUTSIDE MY HOUSE AND TELL ME IT’S TIME TO GO, AND I’LL BE HERE, SAT , WAITING WITH MY COAT AND SHOES IN HAND.

 

17.00PM

I’M HOME.

I HAD LUNCH.

I WENT SHOPPING WITH MY MUM.

SHE BOUGHT ME MATCHING GYM ATTIRE FROM GAP.

I LIKE IT.

I LIKE HER.

SHE IS KIND.

I LIKE KIND PEOPLE.

 

19.25PM

“AMBER DO YOU WANT TO GO WAITROSE?”

WENDY, YOU KNOW I DO.

WENDY, YOU KNOW I LIVE FOR MY FREE LATTE AND MY CHOCOLATE BERLINER AT NIGHTTIME, DON’T ASK ME THESE SILLY QUESTIONS, JUST COME TO MY ROOM AND TELL ME WE’RE GOING AND WE’LL GO.

21.30PM

I’M MAKING ALL THESE DOCUMENTS,

I’M PUTTING ALL MY SCREEN SHOTS TOGETHER AND THEN I GET TO THE SUDDEN REALISATION I GOTS TO MAKE A CRITICAL ANALYSIS TOO.

WHY?!

WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS OTHER THAN TO RUIN MY LIFE, INCREASE MY STRESS AND GIVE ME A PREMATURE HEART ATTACK?!?!?!??!?!??!?!?!???!?!?!!??!?!?!??!?!?

“WHY DID YOU CREATE THE PIECES YOU DID?”
“BECAUSE YOUR BRIEF TOLD ME TO”
“WHAT PUBLICATION ARE THEY FOR?”
“MY WEBSITE”
“WHAT STYLE ARE THEY WRITTEN IN?”
“MY STYLE MO’FO!”

 

I’M TIRED.

I’M DONE.

OKAY, I’M NOT REALLY DONE, STILL PRETTY FUMING ABOUT THE CRITICAL ANALYSIS… I CAN SIT HERE AND CRITICALLY ANALYSE MY WORK ALL DAY LONG, BUT HAVING TO WRITE ABOUT IT IS TEDIOUS – CAN I NOT JUST SEND TRANSCRIPTS OF MY FACEBOOK CHATS WHEREIN I MOAN ABOUT MY WORK?

 

ARGH I JUST WANT TO BE A SPONGE WHO LIVES IN A PINEAPPLE UNDER THE SEA AND FLIP BURGERS ALL DAY LONG AND BE FRIENDS WITH A FAT, TOPLESS STARFISH.

 

 

AND HAVE A PET SNAIL CALLED GARY.

TOUCH ME FOR MORE FUN