He says, She says.

Hello again. I've literally only just decided to bash out this blog after seeing something on the BBC News website. It's only going to be short because I only really have one point to make, so you'll just have to make do.

Apparently some 13 year old kid from America has climbed Mount Everest... What a massive show off.

I'm sure he's not, but in my head I can't help but imagine him to be one of those kids in school who's good at everything, and that naturally, the people who aren't good at everything think he's a colossal bellend. Like I say though, he's probably a nice, modest guy, who just so happens to climb massive mountains for the hell of it.

One thing that made me laugh my little cotton socks off, was the way it's reported on the BBC's website. It reads:

"A 13-year-old American boy has become the youngest person to reach the summit of Mount Everest, his family says.

Jordan Romero, from California, telephoned his mother from the peak of the world's highest mountain, she said."

His family says? It's almost as though the BBC doesn't believe them, I don't think I would either to be honest. If they had any confidence in him, it would surely say "it has been confirmed" or something along those lines... right? The way it is just makes it seem like it's all made up.

I'm waiting for my family to ring BBC Headquarters with news about me.

"A 20 year old boy has walked a tightrope across the Grand Canyon wearing high heel shoes whilst on fire as a way of celebrating the discovery of his ability to poo £50 notes, his family SAYS"

Phwoar, imagine the paper cuts, but on a positive note; imagine being able to say that you'd done a 50 pound poo... Better still, imagine the pooblicity!

I'll stop now...

The second block of text is what I have issues with. At the very end it says "she said" but the rest of the text doesn't really fit in with something that his Mum will have said... Unless she always refers to her son by his full name, and were he's from as well as referring to herself in the 3rd person.

"Jordan Romero, from California! Your tea's ready!"

I know it all makes sense when you read it the article. I just think that for all the professional reporters milling round the BBC, they could have done a slightly better job.

'ave a word BBC.

Bye.

Motivation

Motivation's the hardest thing to come by when you actually need it to get something done. It's always the way. I'd quite like to meet Sod (or Murphy, depending on your preference) and give them a good hard punch in the spleen for creating that bloody law.

I have a fair few things to hand in over the coming week, then, as far as I know I'm done for Summer, which will hopefully be a nice weight off of my shoulders.

• Today I managed to complete an essay that's been ruining my life for the last 4 or 5 days, and after reading through it, I was actually fairly happy with it. Feel like I might do well with that one.

• Then, I have to complete my digital effects project, which is a full on painstaking process... It's a lot less enjoyable than the finished product may lead you to think it was.

• Then finally I have to finish my website, which is crap. I hate doing it, and I hate the fact that it's a compulsory part of my course.

• Then I have to evaluate the crap that I make in no less than 1500 words.

Simply Stunning.

I seem to have lost any motivation that I had down the back of the settee, and i'll be damned if I have the motivation to look for it.

I honestly don't know were my will to put effort into Uni has gone. I think at the moment it's because it's practically the end of the year, and I just want it to end. The idea that there's a few last hurdles to clear first is about as inviting as a one to one meeting with Louie Spence... The bugger.

And before you write a sternly worded letter, I'm not homophobic, I'm loudpeoplewhodemandtobethecentreofattentionallthetime-phobic... so shut up.

Because it's so close to the end of the year, my friends up here are starting to go home for Summer. It's only been one so far, but that one's enough to leave me feeling pretty bummed out sometimes, which naturally, I don't like. I'll be fine once I'm back home too, but when I'm still up here, and the people who pretty much keep me sane go home, it's horrible.

I've decided to create a Dailybooth account to keep a 'diary' of what I get up to over the Summer. My aim is to write in it everyday... so to have something to write about everyday, I need to do something everyday... Y'get me blud?

With Dailybooth, you need to upload a picture with each post, so I'm obviously going to try and take a picture everyday too... It's probably less exciting to you than it is to me, but whatevz.

It's quite funny too... every post you do gets posted onto a live feed for literally everyone with an account to see, so I've had some comments off absolute strangers... One of which said:

"Oh you're cuuuuuuuuute :)"

So, yeah... go me for being cute...

This blog hasn't been very interesting, or funny for that matter. But I write them for myself, not you, and this time I don't fancy trying to be funny... Complain and I'll throw a TV at you.

T'rah.

Boom.

This blog is nothing to do with anything that goes boom. I just couldn't think of a title. Sorry to get your hopes up.

Anyway! It's been a bloody long time since I last wrote something. My creative juices generally flow better when something's rubbed me the wrong way, but at the moment, that hasn't happened.

I'm almost completely at peace with the world. I have a positive zen. My Chi is positive.

Maybe I should take up Yoga? I did it on Wii fit once, but I really struggle with bending in strange ways, so it was a fairly unpleasant experience.

I'm back in Sunderland now. It's not too bad. The weather's been fairly good, and I'm not actually in Uni that much, so I can't really complain.

We've started going to the cinema every Tuesday, which I think is really good. It means I can spend time with my favourite people (no matter how much they bully me... nob'eads.) But it's also a good chance to go and see some good films with relatively little hassle, because the Pictures are just down the road.

I rarely go to the pictures back home, just because of the effort involved. It's not hard to get to, it's just jumping on the train for 10 minutes to Aintree, but that's more effort than it is up here. I only have to walk for 10 minutes and I'm there.

It's really cheap up here too. On a Tuesday it's £2.95 for any film. Well done Sunderland, you've done something right.

__________________________________________________________________

Ok, so it's a couple of hours since I wrote the above writing, and I've been told that it's a rubbish blog. Not funny or anything. So as a means of keeping everyone happy (I'm all about that kind of thing, being a swell guy and all that) I've decided to have a birrof a grumble.

This time it's going to be about adverts. Not like "OMG Dese advertz av cum on wile I wotsh mi filmz so dey iz interrupting innit' It's going to be about the content of 3 adverts that I regularly voice my disapproval of. It probably gets boring for anybody who regularly watches TV with me, but until something's done about these televised monstrosities, I'm not going to shut up.

ADVERT NUMBER 1

I'm going to start with the one that makes me the angriest, which is this one:

Now, you may wonder what my problem is, so I'll list them, before inevitably exploding as a direct result of severe prolonged irritation.

So yeah... My first problem is DANNII BLOODY MINOGUE. She first crops up at about 5 seconds with some old bint and some skinny bint. Look at her and tell me that you honestly don't want to throw sharp things at her. You can't, can you? I'm pretty sure not even Mummy Minogue could love that Vinyl Hockey Mask of a face.

She appears again at about 12 seconds with her face looking like her surgeon pumped about a litre too much botox into her already motionless face. It makes me want to climb into the TV and beat her to death with that life ring that she's using to frame her ugly mug.

I feel a bit bad for shouting about her though really... It's not her fault she's the crap member of her family.

My second problem with this advert is that sodding walk that they insist on doing. You get a good look at it at 31 seconds. It looks like they've all borrowed a leg off someone about a foot taller than them, resulting in them doing this bouncy walk.

I think it's meant to signify 'attitude' or something... To me, it just signifies Iwanttobattereverysingleoneofthemtitude... AMIRITE?

Oh look, there's Dannii Minogue being a bellend wearing a trilby... What an insufferable moron.

My Third problem is the music... I just don't like it.

ADVERT NUMBER 2

I can't find a video for this one, so I'll just have to hope you've seen it and understand what I'm talking about.

It's the advert for Santander Bank, I think. And it involves some fella riding round on a bike made out of Lego. Whilst he cycles round, he sees various other things made out of lego. There's a lot of stuff going on in the advert, but my only real problem is the bit in which the kid sees a group of people moving a settee made of Lego into a house... *takes a deep breath*

The people are clearly struggling! It's fair enough, settee's are generally quite large, and doors are generally quite tall and thin, but the thing is guys... THE SOFA IS MADE OF LEGO!

It doesn't take a genius to work out that you should have taken the box with all the individual Lego bricks to the spec that you wanted the sofa to be, then build it from scratch! It would have saved a hell of a time.

Banks are meant to be filled with clever people who know the best way to do money stuff... If Santander are a bit too dim to realise the shortcomings of their Lego Metaphor, I'm not sure people should trust them with their money.

Go to Halifax instead... They have a singing, dancing man from Birmingham.

ADVERT NUMBER 3

My final rage inducing clip is Dis 1 yo:

I have a massive problem with adverts that show foreign people talking to each other in English. If you're going for a concept that has no fantasy aspect to it, why don't you just go all out and have English people talking to each other? It's less annoying, I know that much.

I'm aware that Petit Filous is French, which explains the need for French kids... But for the love of God, just put subtitles. It's probably easier than beating the kids into speaking broken English (Because that's clearly how it works)

My final problem is the little kid kissing the other little kid to solve her problem of having no Yoghurt. For one, it's a bad influence on little kids. They're going to grow up thinking that if they ever have a problem, they can solve it by kissing any old Tom, Dick or Harry... That's how people like Jordan became famous.

My other problem with the kiss is that the lad clearly had no Yoghurt on his lips, he was actually a fairly neat eater for a 5 year old, or however old he was, so in doing so, the little girl gained nothing, except for maybe an unhealthy reputation of being a bit of a town bike.

I can see it now:

"Sacre Bleus Francois! I've heard she'll get off with you for a pot of Petit Filous!"

"Yeah? I wonder how far she'll go for a Petit Filous and a Mars Bar..."

Ok, so I'm at the end of my patience now. Trying to think of all my gripes with adverts is pretty difficult. Hopefully I've made this post a bit more interesting for those who moaned about the shorter version... If it hasn't, Go away, I don't know what more you want from me.

In a bit.

New laptop yo!

The insurance company finally pulled their finger out and actually sent me a shiny new laptop, so I'm blogging away in the Library at Uni, whilst keeping Sarah company; offering words of encouragement as she attempts to take down a particularly bad mo' fo' of an essay. I've even gone to the café for her a few times to provide her with Lucozade.

Friend of the Year Award? Gerron on my Mantlepiece.

I'm mainly writing because i'm bored, so God knows what kind of direction this is going to go in. It's going to be an absolute roller coaster ride... Or not, depending on your idea of excitement.

One thing I do want to say though, is how much I'm looking forward to the Easter holiday. It feels like years since I was last home, even though it's only been 3 months. I'm well and truly fed up of the routine of Uni now, so to get away from Sunderland for a few weeks is going to be sweet

I'm also really excited about going to Keswick; one of my all time favourite places. It'll be boss :)

Another thing that's occurin' over Easter is my Birthday. As if I'm going to be 20.

I didn't want to be one of many people who, during the run up to the actual day, are all like "I'm scared of turning 20, I won't be a teenager anymore"

So?

I, for one am not even slightly arsed. Age doesn't mean a thing. Sure, it has connotations of maturity and stuff, but that's it... just connotations, nothing else. If you don't want to feel grown up, you don't have to. It's not like you actually change mentally.

Even when they do turn 20, they'll "prbably stl tipe lyk dis" thus rendering them a dufus toddler.

Actual example of an absolute halfwit typing, taken from everyone's favourite website, Facey-B:

"Kant wait to c a cirten person on sat :):)"

Seriously? Eurgh. It's actually easier to type properly than in that stupid way! And why replace 'C' with a 'K'? It's the same bleedin' sound, you absolute frube.

Another thing that goes hand in hand with Birthdays is the 'obligatory' night out. Where I won't be getting absolutely bevvied. I've gone right off it.

It's nice to have a few drinks and stuff...Maybe get a bit merry. But I'm completely over the "regularly drink yourself stupid" stage. The Hangover and loss of memory just isn't worth it. I'd rather have a good time, but wake up feeling good the next day.

What a square I am.

Right... That's all I can think of writing about.

In a bit x

Blah blah blah... Title.

I have every right to moan in this blog. It's been an absolute shocker of a week, it's just been one thing after another. Physically I'm fine apart from two mazzy blisters on my foot... I'm just well and truly fed up of things.

The main 'thing' being the fact that my bastarding laptop only went and got itself nicked didn't it.

Are you sitting comfortably? Right, I'll begin, so shut up and listen.

Rewind back to last Wednesday, the 24th of February. I'd been in Uni for the whole day doing the various remedial tasks I'd been set as part of my thrilling course. By the time I was done, I really needed to let off some steam, so I went to the Gym.

After I'd transformed myself into Lou Ferrigno (The fella who played the Hulk) I returned home with the intention of eating my body weight in Fish Fingers and refreshing facebook 300 times per minute.

My chances of performing the latter were decreased dramatically when I discovered that my little rectangle of fold-out joy wasn't in its usual spec next to my bed, innocently charging away.

Some Mackem bellends have somehow literally walked into my house, then into my room, taken what they thought was the most expensive item, then walked out.

Now, My laptop wasn't what it used to be; Half of the keys were gimpy and falling off, the ventilation system had a metric tonne of dust stuck in it and the brand new charger I bought for it (after the old one broke) only worked when it was at a certain angle. In a way, the thieves have done me a favour, because I get a brand spanking new laptop, and they'll probably get a fiver for it, if that.

I wouldn't be surprised to come home one day to find that they've broken back in and given it back with a full written apology on a post-it note stuck to the lid.

Obviously that'll never happen though, everybody knows Mackems can't write. LOL AM I RITE?

The thing that's pissed me off about the whole situation is the fact that the oppurtunist bastards had obviously seen someone leave the front door of the house slighty ajar and decided to make their move. What gives them the right to do that? Nothing does.

Scum. Sub human scum.

The amount of crime I've been somehow linked with in the last year or so is unreal.

• At the end of last Summer, I witnessed an armed robbery.
• At the start of second year Uni, I got nutted.
• My housemates Girlfriend's car got broken into.
• My Good friend 'The Slaternator's' car got broken into, And
• My Laptop got nicked.

As a result of all this, I'm honestly considering joining the Police after I'm done with Uni. Instead of just getting annoyed at the nobheads who commit the crimes, I can realistically do something about them.

The fact that I'm doing a degree in Media isn't an issue for me, I'll be able to quote Stanley Cohen at the Crims whilst I send them down. And if Policing doesn't work out, I can always pursue a Media based career.

Anyway... If this is the last blog I ever write, it's because I've undoubtedly topped myself because of the psychological trauma that 'The Victim Support Helpline' (No idea how they got my number, or why they felt the need to ring at 8 in the morning) automatically assume I'm suffering because of the 'Victim's personal statement' that was forced kicking and screaming from my mouth by PC Plod of Northumbria Police.

Plod: "Go on mate. You must feel a little bit vulnerable, victimised, worried?"
Me: "Honestly, I'm not bothered"
Plod: "Just say something I can write down"
Me: "Erm..."
Plod: "Go on..."
Me: "I feel dead vulnerable and stuff... Honest... Can I go the cinema now?"


Right then, I think that's everything that happened, covered in a moderately interesting manner...

In a bit.

Weekends

This is just going to be a mini moan at myself.

I remember when I used to skateboard. I used to look forward to every single weekend because it meant there'd be no School and I could spend almost the whole thing just skating and having a laugh. I'd be gutted when it rained, as it meant I wouldn't be able to go out and skate and would have to find something else to do, which I usually managed, but it wasn't quite the same.

A few years on and I'm at Uni. I really don't look forward to weekends any more. They're probably worse than weekdays in terms of entertainment value, And I always have a horrible feeling at the back of my mind that because it's the weekend, I should make the most of it while it lasts.

I never do. BrInG oN dA wEekdaYz LoL!

Anyway, It's currently Lent, and has been since Wednesday just gone. It ends on the 3rd of April... I think.

I don't believe in any of the Spiritual side of it, but I like to use the opportunity to give up something, and hopefully feel better for it.

After a hell of a lot of deliberation, I've decided that I'm going to give up drinking excessively... Beginning with no drinking whatsoever for the first 2 weeks or so. Just to be boss like that.

Anyway, I've got nothing to say anymore... Bye.

Whaaaaa?

It's been a while! How the hell are you?

I don't really have much to say in this blog, so it'll just be short. I'm only really writing it to kill time before my lecture starts.

Semester 2 started at Uni today, and I'm actually sort of looking forward to it, but at the same time, I'm not.

It's safe to say that since returning to Sunderland I've done pretty much nothing. I completed an essay and handed it in. After that, I've pretty much vegged out as much as is humanly possible. I've got into the routine of:

• Waking up
• Sitting round until about 2
• Leaving my house for something pointless
• Returning, then sitting round until about 8/9
• Going out (Depending on what day it is)
  
• And going home to bed.

Rinse and Repeat... It was alright for about a day, but then it got really boring.

So in a way, beginning lectures again gives me the chance to get into a routine that is actually worthwhilse, and it feels good... Even though I did manage to come to Uni an hour too early, But hey, at least it means I'm not going to be late :)

On the other hand, a downside to lectures starting up again is the fact that it is undoubtedly Semester 2... Meaning it's closer to Summer than it was at the start of Semester 1.

Uni is flying by so, so quickly, and it worries me. In next to no time it'll all be over and it'll be back to living at home (Which is good, believe me) But it's the people I've met here that I'll miss.

It may be over a year and a half away, but at the rate that time is flying by, that's no time at all.

Pretty soon we'll all be living in different corners of the country again. We won't be able to go out of an evening, or pop round every now and then and see each other. I know there's facebook and MSN and all those other thingymajiggs that'll make it easy to keep in touch, but it's not quite the same as seeing them in person.

Thank God for National Express. It may absolutely ravage your wallet when you use it, but these people have become my absolute bezzies, and no amount is too much to pay.

I've made myself sad now... Stupid blog.

I swear I had a little bit more to talk about, but my mind has gone completely blank.

...

I have French people living with me now! They're really nice n' all that, but, they say Hello to me, then carry on talking to each other in French whilst i'm still there. I know it's not rude or anything, because it's their native language, and I don't expect them to involve me in their conversation... But bloody hell, it's uncomfortable, especially when they laugh at the same time... I can't help but think they're laughing at me... It's a nightmare.

Anyway, I literally cannot think of anything else to write about, so I'm off.

Adios.