I've just finished another meeting/interview with the ace woman who's writing a book about sex. She loves Cliterati and wants to include loads of mentions of it in her book. Yet another afternoon spent talking about shagging (following on from last night when I was with Lovehoney discussing what the best sex toys are and picking up a load of new toys to review. Have got a very cute looking waterproof dolphin toy [!] which looks intriguing. )

I'm dead excited about being in a book. It feels all grown up.

Got some more cartoons through from Phil - the roughs for the lesbian and by men sections of cliterati. Really pleased with them.

Started work on the writing for the pornograph. Talk about multi-dimensional thinking. It's a total head-fuck! I've got the first two stages done but am now getting into more complicated territory. Worked out that one story with 5 chances to pick one of 3 options means there will be 81 individual chucks of copy. Haven't even tried to work out how many potential variations of the story that means there will be though because, technically, all chunks of text should be able to fit with all other chunks of text on the same level (or at least, there should be some points where pieces can link.)

Combining maths with writing is hard. Am determined to get the sodding thing nailed though.

It's a challenge.

One of the guys I worked with a couple of years back started managing a new band, Kinesis, a while back. I went to one of their gigs and came out loving them.

They've now got a deal and are about to start touring. Listen to the Realaudio clip (it starts shouty but god, what a hook when they get going) then go to see them on tour - details as follows:

Mon 5th Aug: Manchester Roadhouse
Tue 6th Aug: Glasgow Barfly (support to Queen Adreena)
Wed 7th Aug: Bradford Rio’s (support to Queen Adreena)
Thu 8th Aug: Sheffield Barfly (support to Queen Adreena)
Sun 11th Aug: Southend Chinerys (support to Queen Adreena)
Mon 12th Aug: Bristol Fleece & Firkin (support to Queen Adreena)
Tue 13th Aug: London Mean Fiddler (with Queen Adreena and Sona Fariq)
Wed 14th Aug: Tower Records In Store @ Piccadilly Circus 6.30pm
Mon 19th Aug: London Bull & Gate
Tue 3rd Sep: London Barfly NME On Night ++ (with Reuben & This Girl)

Other than that, having a day filled with the usual strangeness. More research stuff going on. As well as looking for bi-curious women, I now need people who'd be prepared to go on TV and live out their sexual fantasies and a couple who are prepared to give up sex for a month then tell a magazine all about it.

Sure my mates must be starting to worry about me. The amount of text messages I send saying things like 'Want to have sex with two women? Give me a call as may be able to sort' suggest I'm a major perv (rather than a mini-tartlet)

Still, keeps life interesting.

So, a top mate recently introduced me to The The - 80s sleazy pop act extraordinaire. I have a new favourite band. Currently listening to their album Infected - in particular, the track Out of the Blue (Into the Fire) Seriously cool lyrics, apparently about spending time with a 'lady of the night'

"She was lying on her back with her lips parted, squealing like a stuffed pig.
I was going through the motions, faking the emotions, wriggling around like a lizard on a tin.
I was trying so hard to please myself, I was turning into somebody else."

There's something so cool, sleazy and downright dirty about those lyrics.

When Woody Allen was asked "Is sex dirty?" he replied "Only if it's done right."

I'm inclined to agree.

Now infinitely better after slobbing out in front of the TV watching Jurassic Park and eating pizza. Felt about 9 years old cos I still jumped when the velociraptors were doing their thing. Had to watch it whilst peering over my book so I didn't get too involved. Am a wuss. Still, my utter patheticness did mean that I finished reading Getting Personal. Had a really nice twist that was very unexpected for a chick-lit book.

Spent the rest of the day surfing around Ryze - a really good networking organisation. Have already met some interesting people through it. Was introduced to it by a friend who runs Mbites - a daily tech/media newsletter (although he's on holiday at the moment which is really annoying cos I miss the easy fix of news ariving in my inbox every morning so I don't need to surf for it)

Realised how horribly addicted to the internet I was when I found myself changing the screen settings on my computer so I could see who'd emailed me from the comfort of the couch, thus not needing to waste my time getting up to read spam. Although that could be a symptom of the general laziness that was running through my veins today.

Not beating myself up about spending the day doing bugger all cos I was working till 4am on Thursday so it kind of evens out. Did my first bit of ghost writing. Weird concept. You wouldn't get it in any other profession; factory workers sending someone else into work to do their job: "Yes, I know you hired me but I don't have the time so I've got Fred to fill in for me and I'm giving him a cut of the cash" Was fun to write though - although a 24 hour deadline and *very* open brief with no previous examples to work from meant it was 'challenging'. They liked what I did though, so looks like it's going to be a regular fixture.

Getting paid to write is ace.

Another Saturday morning rolls around. Another hangover is in progress. Going for the fags and coffee cure. Yep, I know it's bad for me and yes, I know fags increase my risk of dying but at the moment, it's strangely comforting.

Keep meaning to give up smoking. The government ads don't scare me cos it's all people who are alive saying why smoking is bad. It's the one for Imperial Cancer that does my head in, with the 'magic mirror' showing all the people who've died. Although the one for Bupa terrifies me too. Woman saying "I had lung cancer but thanks to Bupa, I'm alive". Strongly disagree with the emotional thing going on there though; get health cover or you'll die and your children will cry and it will all be your own fault, you heartless bitch.

Have been sitting round with Phil while he scribbles cartoons. Spending a hungover morning watching someone draw cartoons of women masturbating, pants on fire and sticks of dynamite is just another indication of the weird week I've been having. When we were free associating to figure out how to symbolise masturbation, did come up with a new euphemism though. Rather than the male 'bashing the bishop', the more female friendly 'stunning the nun' (as Phil said,"It's a dirty habit...")

One of the first pieces about sex I got published was about female masturbation being taboo partly because there are nowhere near enough words for it. Whereas men have got thousands of expressions for it; 'shaking hands with Pam', 'the five finger shuffle', 'spanking the monkey' etc etc etc, women have the clinical sounding 'masturbation', the nasty sounding 'frig' and the potentially inaccurate 'finger' (assuming toys are sometimes involved). We need new words. A female friend came up with 'whipping up the fanny batter' but it's not exactly sexy.

Going to collapse on the sofa and recover. Have good trashy novel which I'm looking forward to finishing - Getting Personal by Chris Manby. Saw it advertised on TV which I was really impressed by. Would have bought it anyway cos her previous books rock but still, nice to see books advertised on TV.

Really must finish writing one of my novels. But not today.

Oh my god! So, have had (and am still having) ace night with Phil. We went to a cheese night at a pub/club (the Sindrome. Yep, spelled Sin, not Syn, but it has ace naff bands playing dodgy covers of The Final Countdown which is good after a certain amount of beer)

So, some neanderthal (who I'd earlier commented on to my mates as being one of the few blokes there who didn't look bad removing his top. OK, so it was hotter than... well I'll leave the metaphors to you but still, 17 stone blokes have *no* excuse for stripping off) came up to me and asked me to dance (well, grunted) He was fit. I was drunk. I said OK. We danced (and OK, I dance sleazy) and half way through, he bent over and *bit* my arse. There are teeth marks. I checked. In a mirror. When I was a student, the odd grope was as far as it went. Arse biting is decidedly out of order.

May have to get a tetanus jab tomorrow.

So I've got a mate coming down today; the disgustingly talented Phil. I've known him since we worked together on our student paper. I was the editor, he was the cartoonist with a sideline in deeply amusing features.

Why disgustingly talented? As well as being a brilliant cartoonist and writer, he was also a runner up in last year's BBC New Talent comedy awards. He brought the tape with him the last time he came to stay and had a party full of strangers (to him) in hysterics. OK, his sketches are surreal - "Doctor Jekyll and Mr Heidi" springs to mind - but you'll see, when we finally get round to building his site and the videos are streamed on it why I reckon he's ace. Until then, you'll have to take my word for it.

Anyway, he's got an interview today and I offered to cook him dinner. I always spend the entire evening laughing when he comes round, which is a good way to spend time. He's also doing me some cartoons for Cliterati. The pic on the right is one of the generic pics of 'Ms Cliterati' (working title!) but he'll be doing icons for all the sections later. Really looking forward to seeing them.

Although not looking forward to the hangover tomorrow.

This really has been a sex obsessed week. Today, I wrote an article about living out sexual fantasies. I've just been commissioned to write two pieces a month on different aspects of sex and figured that fantasy was as good a place to start as anywhere.

Fantasy's a weird thing. Years back, I did my dissertation on whether women wanted their sexual fantasies to come true. I figured that everyone gets boring about their dissertation in their final year of uni and that getting boring about sex would be more interesting than droning on endlessly about the sociology of intergroup dynamics (although I'm sure some people find that thrilling). Plus, I wanted to sell my dissertation afterwards.

I managed to, kind of. Found a great erotic book provider for women, who sadly went bust about a year later, and wrote them a load of articles about sexual fantasy for their newsletter. They paid me in erotic books.

At least nowadays I'm paid in cash.

So I get in from the pub having had rather frisky SMS conversation with a friend. The mood is saucy. Put on the TV. And Star Trek is on with some episode where, for some unknown reason, everyone is horny. They're all leaping on each other. Frankly, the women concerned must have missed the episode where Picard got naked. It put me off older men for weeks.

So, had the meeting with the bi-curious documentary makers (or should that be makers of a bicurious documentary?) Cool people. Nice ideas. Made me think about bi-curiousity though. Shagging people of the same gender seems to be the only thing that has the 'curious' thing attached. You don't get 'sub-dom-curious' or 'coprophilia-curious' labels; "Well, I'm not sure about being tied up and beaten but wearing shoes that are too tight and being forced to walk rather than get a cab makes me horny." or "Well, he could fart in my face but I couldn't imagine things going further."

Stangely, those thoughts and seeing cast of Star Trek get horny have somewhat ruined the mood...

When I went freelance, I thought it would be different from having a normal day job; more flexible, less compulsory early mornings, that kind of thing. But I didn't expect it to be quite so surreal.

OK, so I run a sex site for women. But I still find it hard to justify this week's activities as work.

On Monday, I had a meeting about the Pornograph to figure out how we're going to build it. That night, I went out with a Stringfellows' stripper who's looking to develop her career in a more artistic way. Was intrigued that she thought the US was way better for strippers than the UK because 'You can get naked and grind more and that means money.'

Today, I met an ace woman who's writing a book about sex and wanted my help. I then spent an afternoon reviewing sex toys. Masturbation as work - bet my careers advisor wouldn't have thought of that one.

Tonight, I'm out with some researchers who are putting together a documentary on bi-curiousity. I'm arranging a pub gathering of bi-curious birds for them. Predict that my male friends will try to bribe me to give them the date and venue.

I love my job.

OK, so I know I'm kinda geeky; had a ZX81 aged 8, been online since 1995 and being doing net stuff ever since. But tonight, I went to the Clerkenwell Literary Festival to see the 'Can Computers Tell Stories' seminar thing cos it had Dave Green and James Wallis (who I know) plus David McCarthy of Edge magazine (who I don't) arguing with each other, which I thought would be good for a giggle.

No firearms were in evidence. Shame. I was tempted to lead the cries of 'Fight, fight, fight' but didn't think it would go down well. Dave Green made some amusing gags about bananas (creeping up on the video game market, apparently), Dave McCarthy talked about the narrative in computer games being similar to medieaval literature and James Wallis intervened in any rows that were likely to errupt (ably assisted by Steven Armstrong)

Would have been better with more violence.

Realised I was getting there geek-wise when I recognised 2 people and had ace conversations with at least 4 others. Met top bird called Jo who I've been meaning to chat to for ages and talked about creating a 'Pornograph' (Running gag: I'm a pornographer with no pornograph) Rough idea is a Linux box (computer, for non geeks) running a database that spits out randomly generated porn stories. No use other than that.

But it's got to be good for a laugh.

You know those weeks when you end up out every night and by the weekend all you want to do is collapse in a heap and sleep? It's been one of those.

The cocktail evening went well. We worked our way through Moscow Mules, Martinis, Cosmopolitans, B52s and Caipirinhias. Luckily, the canapes did their job so the hangover wasn't too horrific. Ended up watching a (recently single) mate on TV to see if any of the team fancied him which was a tad surreal; soundtrack from Moulin Rouge playing in the background, cocktails and canapes on the table and a finance channel running on mute. Was quite impressed when one of the team started commenting on stock prices rather than letching at my mate (consensus view of whom was 'You would, wouldn't you).

More importantly, we came up with a load of new features ideas, including testing out sex myths which one brave woman volunteered to do. So if you know any men with big noses...

Went to a party last night with some people I don't know that well. Could tell it was posh when someone said 'Is there any elderflower vodka left?'

I decided against sushi. Couldn't get any mirin or picked ginger online and didn't want to go to the shops. Had a couple of beers last night and decided to go with kitsch canapes instead; egg mayonnaise, crudites, crostini, baked new potatoes with sour cream and smoked salmon, garlic prawns and stuffed mushrooms. I don't know why 'life's too short to stuff a mushroom' - it takes seconds. Life is, however, too short to skin roast peppers. Also invented a canape, I think. Sunday roast on a stick - chicken breast, sausage and stuffing (Paxo - I may love cooking but Paxo rocks)

So, I'm having a cliterati gathering later this week and figured that I'd test out the cocktail kit I got bought for my birthday. Yep, I admit it, I still aspire to being in Sex in the City. Hell, if Carrie can afford to live in NY and have that lifestyle on the proceeds of a weekly column about sex, I'm in the wrong damn city. I've got the cocktail list sorted and ordered the ingredients from Ocado (life's too short to waste time in supermarkets)

I thought I'd make some canapes cos we'll be spending far too much time talking about editorial stuff and getting hammered to bother sitting down for a full meal. But apparently canapes are not 'done'. I've read through all my cookbooks, ranging from the obligatory trendy chef books that I ask for whenever someone asks what I want for christmas to the knackered old favourites (including the brilliant Slut's Cookbook by Erin Pizzey that I picked up at a jumble sale years ago and is now sadly out of print.) but can I find canapes? Can I hell. Other than a couple of roasted vegetable things and French beans wrapped in Parma ham, there's bugger all.

So, I'm toying with the idea of sushi. Other than the fact that it takes years of training to be a sushi chef and all that raw fish in the hands of an untrained person is probably lethal, it's got to be worth a try. I spent a leisurely five minutes wandering round the Wing Yip Chinese supermarket (small print on opening signs outside shops should be banned - in 5 foot high letters emblazoned along the length of the building 'Open till 7pm'. In 5 point type, only visible if you press your nose to the sign, '5.30pm on Sundays') and have stocked up on miso, wasabi and various things in jars that looked interesting.

If Cliterati ceases to exist this week, it will be because I've poisoned the editorial team. Sorry.

So I've finally succumbed. After seven years of arsing around on the internet, I've now added a personal site. Why? Cos my family can never remember their email addresses and I thought this was the easiest way to give them an address they couldn't forget. It seemed daft not to do anything else with the URL, so that's why this is here. What's going on it? God knows. However, it's not a blog. I'd like to make that clear and draw attention to the explanation a friend of mine gives at Hitherto.net.

I have no idea how regularly I'll be posting here. Most of my time is spent running Cliterati - a sex site for women. There aren't any pics, just lots of dirty stories (nothing underage, everything consensual) a problem page, features and reviews. I spend half my time writing for it and most of the rest of the time subbing entries from people who visit the site.

I also fit in freelance journalism, marketing and creative writing (I've got to finish one of the b*&"!£$S novels I've started).