Well, it's been another fairly packed week or so. It started with me interviewing Jodie Marsh for my Audible show (the November one, which should be available to download on 15th Nov). I had a great day. Jodie was a total joy to work with - turned up early so we had time to go to the pub first, kept everyone regaled with fantastic (and incredibly candid) stories about her sex life, came out for drinks with us afterwards (though she virtuously stuck to water 'cos she was driving) and then wrote nice things about her experience on her blog afterwards. I won't give away too many details of the interview because otherwise the show's PR will tell me off, but Jodie did admit who the best celeb lover she's had is, talked about exactly what she liked in bed and impressed us all with her attitude to safer sex.
She also read out a rather filthy story that I wrote specially for her (nope, not about hot lesbo action with a sex writer - that would have been weird. It was a story about her pulling a bloke who appreciated her for her mind rather than her body. Then having hot sex) The story's also going to be on November's show, which I'm really looking forward to. I'm recording the rest of the show next week, and we're launching a load of new features - more sex advice, positions stuff, lingerie reviews (something I'm getting into at the moment - I'm also doing weekly knicker reviews for Knickersblog.com - writing plus free underwear, two of my favourite things) and a serialised filthy story. There's also going to be a competition tying in with the show to win the new iPod Nanos, signed by Jodie - I'll let you know how you can win one when I know more about it.
After that, I had a day of meetings about books and articles for various people, all of which took place over alcohol, resulting in an evil hangover on the train on the way home which helpfully metamorphosed into a migraine complete with the whole 'no light or I'll die,', vomiting (to well past the level of removing the alcohol in my system) and generally feeling shaky for a day afterwards. As a result, I was off alcohol, coffee, chocolate and all things nice for most of the rest of the week.
On the plus side, this gave me time to get some culture, starting with a night out at the opera with my mate who's trying to educate me. It was beautiful to look at, and had some singing that blew me away but I realised I'm not that sophisticated because I thought it would have been more entertaining had it been two hours long, rather than three (and it wasn't even a 'hard' opera - it was Cosi Fan Tutti, which is all bouncy and light rather than full of screaming divas) Still, at least I'm trying to 'get' it rather than just seeing it as an excuse to wear a posh frock. Really.
A couple of days later, I went to see Children of Men which was ace - not what I was expecting at all, 'cos I thought it'd be all sci-fi and ridiculous (entertaining) storylines but instead it was rather disturbingly real-feeling. London looked far too much like it currently does, and the plot (which I won't ruin as it's well worth seeing the film) could all too easily come true, particularly in light of today's immigration news.
The alcohol kicked back in again with a vengeance by Saturday, when I had possibly the girliest day of my life. The plan was simple: high tea at my place with sandwiches (crusts cut off and everything) miniature fairy cakes, home made scones and plenty of cocktails (on the basis that I had no teapot or china and for true girlie frivolity, dunking teabags in mugs just didn't have the same appeal as sipping from fine bone china cups, whereas cava cocktails seemed like a very fine idea indeed).
It's the first time I've ever had an all female party (other than three of us sitting round setting the world to rights) and God, it was fun. There was the obligatory talking about men, sex and beauty regimes (primarily bikini waxing) - and, as it was at my place, and I'd just had a big clear out, there was plenty of doling out of vibrators/general sex freebies (condoms, lube and all that kind of thing). We even played dress-up, 'cos one of my mates is about to play a big Jazz concert and needed a frock, which seemed a good excuse to pimp my mum's (apologies if you've arrived at this blog having typed 'pimp + my mum, as a result of the previous sentence. Then again, what are you thinking of trying to pimp your mother? That's just wrong. Stop it) Mid-way through proceedings, a fab boy mate turned up who, despite being straight, managed to cope with our conversation without exploding (then again, he did come up with the line, on STIs, of "in the good old days, these used to be called venereal diseases, and sounded much worse. Now they make them sound a lot fluffier and more scientific, but they are basically the same and just as nasty," so he's not averse to discussing matters of the groin, which probably helped)
Half the party were staying over (I'm blessed with multiple futons and, as most of the people at the party were old friends, we could share beds which made sleeping arrangements much easier) so the next day we sat round talking about more of the same, which was followed by cooking a Sunday roast for the hardcore contingent. All in all, both civilised and highly entertaining - and everyone helped with the washing up. I really must do it again 'cos it was ace fun catching up with so many mates and having an excuse to wallow in all things feminine (candle appreciation, fluffy cushion appreciation, fake fur throw appreciation - it was all so gloriously shallow - except for when we were sorting out each other's love lives of course. Which resulted in one of the party heading off to see a bloke and getting seven shags in one night so was clearly good advice - though we suspected she took our suggestion to 'give him one for us' too seriously)
This week's been altogether calmer so far - mostly writing and sleeping. That said, I am dead chuffed to have a new cleaner - who's a bloke (yes, I have middle class guilt about having a cleaner but it takes hours removing all the fluff from the wood floors thanks to the aforementioned fluffy cushion covers and throws - not to mention that I seem to be balding if the amount of hair that seems to be migrating onto the floor is anything to go by, though thankfully it's not yet visibly vanishing from my head. Which is a tad confusing. And, while the cleaning's happening, I am sitting at my computer working away so it's just a way to get all my work done and live somewhere shiny without having to forgo sleep entirely. I have to admit, the fact that the cleaner is male does help alleviate the guilt further. It feels somehow vindicating from a feminist point of view to have a man cleaning my place - and proves that men do not, in fact, lack the cleaning gene as suggested by television adverts and, to be honest, most of my exes. As an added bonus, he's in his early 20s and cute - though attached, and the brother of a friend, so firmly out of bounds) Hmmm, reading that back I guess women are just as bad as men - we all want someone easy on the eye to tidy up for us. But at least I'm prepared to pay for it.
Tomorrow, I've got more writing to do, and am then meeting up with an old flame I haven't seen for ten years, who saw an article about me in a local magazine and mailed the editor to see if she could pass a message on. It turns out he's been living in Brighton since the last time I saw him which I found a tad random, given we were at university together in the East Midlands so I had no reason to think he'd live anywhere near me now, but cool 'cos, from what I can remember he was fun. Time will tell...
Then, in no particular order, it's off to see the Puppini Sisters, writing a book proposal, going to various mate's parties (one who's leaving the country, which is sad 'cos she's ace), finishing a feature on aphrodisiacs (I'm currently loaded up with about eight different aphrodisiacs that I've been testing. Luckily none of them seem to be doing much, so old flame and cleaner are probably safe) and getting an internal vaginal cast (for another feature - getting the external one last year prompted the caster to ask if I'd be up for modelling for a more in depth cast, and another mag loved the idea of the feature so I figured 'what the hell'. It'll be intriguing seeing whether I can recognise my vag from the inside, once the model is made - and it'll certainly be original. I just hope it doesn't get stuck.) I guess this is what they call work/life balance.
Posted by emilyd at October 25, 2006 01:23 AM