Did the usual work thing today. The production house lost about 12 pages today so we had to resend them. I'm saying nothing. Because shouting would look bad on a blog.

As well as working on the mag, I wrote the latest issue of the 'Sex Insider' newsletter for journos. I thought these were rather kitsch and (very) loosely associated to sex - or at least girl-power - so deserved a mention. And the Lollipopper is just so pretty and non-sex-toy looking that it got mentioned too. Other than that, lots of smutty things coming up - the Swinger's Ball, Hot D'Or and 'Running of the nudes' (a protest about the 'Running of the bulls'. OK, these events are actually taking place March-May next year, but those are the issues the magazine journos will currently be working on so they're practically tomorrow.

Off to a mate's party tonight; male-heavy and full of geeks, so should be fun. Taking a couple of girlie mates with me to help even the balance a bit. Of course, a New Year's Eve party definitely counts as a worthy event to wear the leather dress to, so am going for it, along with my lace up boots (which I can now walk in).

Looking forward to a night off. And I'm going to take tomorrow morning off too, in anticipation of the monstrous hangover I'm sure to have. After all, champagne and cava are two of my favourite things, and I've been assured that they've got it in abundance at the party.

Have a very Happy New Year.

One of the benefits of having a minimal break over Christmas is that I've got way less of the 'easing back into work' feeling than a lot of people (well, I hardly stopped for long enough to notice the break, particularly given that I was sleeping or drunk for the couple of days I was off).

However, other people easing back into work can be an issue where deadlines are concerned.

Today was the deadline for the first news stand issue of the mag. The designer started on it at 1am yesterday, despite constant requests to start earlier. As a result, I was still there answering his questions at 9am. Which sucked.

However, all the pages went off to repro-boy by morning (you remember him from before Christmas? The one who had a hangover so lost us half a day when we were supposed to go to press, then lost us another day by not turning up to work. Of course, he could have been ill on Christmas Eve but he sounded fine on the phone the day before.) He got all the pages through and then, well, god knows. There seems to be no sense of urgency at that end. Which really made pulling another all-nighter worth it.

On the plus side, the endless waiting around means that I've got all the articles I'm writing for the first four issues done (only about 4,000 words) On the minus side, it's too late for me to get to the shops, which is particularly annoying cos my only 2003 diary is a freebie 'Horoscope Diary' that came with a magazine and I don't really fancy the idea of carrying it around.

Still, at least the pubs are open.

Another day and another commission. Dead chuffed. I've now got two pieces in the New Year's Day edition of the Daily Star, which is a good start to the New Year.

Had some brilliant new stories added to Cliterati today including this lesbian fantasy. Sadly, it included fisting, which had to be edited down to four fingers because of the odd obscenity laws. The law is incredibly vague (nothing allowed that will deprave or corrupt or deprave or corrupt further) so we have to take our lead from the stuff that gets seized/has a precedent for not being allowed. Some stuff is obvious and we wouldn't want to have on there anyway - violence, non-consent, underage, bestiality etc. Other stuff is much woolier.

We don't allow fisting because customs seize videos that include it, but it does seem like it's a very homophobic guideline. That's not to say that fisting is an exclusively gay/lesbian practice (one female sex researcher claims that it's the best way for a woman to achieve orgasm) but we certainly get more fisting mentioned in lesbian stories submitted than we do in straight ones. And it's annoying that I can't risk putting it up because cliterati's too young a company to be able to afford being sued. Sure, I could put my money (!) where my mouth is and take the gamble but if I did, our lack of funds means that Cliterati would probably just get closed down altogether. Which would suck.

After the excess of Christmas - all two and a bit days of it - it was back to work today. Luckily, no-one else was around so it wasn't the boring stuff, dealing with a million phone calls. Instead, it was writing more articles about sex.

Strangely, it was quite enjoyable. After the hectic few weeks, two days of no work felt distinctly odd. Am sure I'll snap out of workaholic mode soon and it's just this project warping my brain. May have to do some more overindulging to be on the safe side though.

It was a somewhat more relaxing working day than usual though. Being bought most of the Clarins range by various people meant that my usual soak in the bath now takes four times longer. Although if the products all take the years off me that they promise, I'll look about 12 by this time next week.

Today was the whole family day thing. As a rule, I don't do the family thing. Love my mum to bits and get on brilliantly with my dad but, not coming from the traditional 2.4 kids background (as Jilly Cooper once said, my home's 'not so much broken as a jigsaw') I'm lucky enough not to have any of the duty stuff to contend with. My mum runs her own business and is as busy as I am (at the moment, she's working on one holiday business, is an antique dealer and makes designer dresses. She's still pretty skint but most of that's down to investing all her money back into the business and refusing to screw people over in business, so is cool). As a result, there's none of the nasty guilt stuff that you get with a lot of families; she's as likely to be unable to meet up as I am. So 've been doing non-family Christmases for the last 11 years (and yes, they are as nice as you'd imagine them to be. Even the one I spent on my own was cool.).

Anyway, my mum and sister were scheduled to come up at 1pm today. My gran then decided she wanted to come too. This was cool but rather kiboshed the plans for a mates' piss up as the alcoholic carnage planned + 70 year old woman thing would have been bad. (My mum is very young - in attitude and looks anyway - and her last boyfriends have been nearer my age than hers. Or possibly even nearer my younger sister's age. Sister is 25. Therefore mates+mum and sister not a problem) But no probs about my Gran coming; haven't seen her for a couple of years and she's nice. Didn't cancel the one mate we had invited but it was much toned down.

Now my mum is *always* late; has been for the whole of my life. So when I overslept till 12.30, I was worried, but not overly so. So of course, she turns up 20 minutes early. Cue me ducking into bathroom and figuring out how the hell to get food sorted out in minus time.

I'd got a buffet style thing planned, with roast beef, which I hadn't cooked for years (cos every time I tried, it turned into leather) so had got lots of cooking tips from my Stepmum (the world's best cook). She suggested 18 mins per pound plus 18 minutes (first 18 minutes on uber-hot, the rest on about 150) and it worked brilliantly - actually got that 'cooked all the way through but tender with a pink bit that isn't bloody in the middle' thing going on. (NB: It was still running very bloody when I pierced it so ignore that as a guide cos if I'd have waited till the juices were pink/clear it would have been overcooked.) There was also the usual spread; leftover chicken, pork pie and pickles, plus mini salmon en croute (bought cos they were reduced and seemed like a good idea) and about a gazillion salads of various varieties.

The beef was a total nightmare. I never realised how much harder work it is than other stuff - checking it every ten minutes to make sure it wasn't overcooked - but it tasted gorgeous so was worth the effort.

So we pigged out and then my mum wanted to see my press clippings. Fair enough. But showing my gran articles entitled 'I've got the best job in the world as a sex toy tester' was something I didn't feel appropriate. I was wrong. She saw them, read them, loved them. At one point she asked me if I did 'jobs' for the people I met. I assumed she meant freelance and said 'yes, as often as possible.'. She looked shocked (whilst still smiling) and I realised she meant shagging them. I set the record straight. Although I'm convinced she'd have gone 'that's nice dear.' if I had said I was a hooker.

Biggest shocker was 'the dress'. My mum wanted to see it so I put it on, again, nervous of my gran's response. My gran said 'Oh, don't you look pretty in that (butt-cheek high, black leather) dress dear.' I was pleasantly surprised.

Have come to the conclusion that my gran is cool. Either that or the drugs they're giving her are warping her mind.

Popped Clogs is one of the Yahoo! Picks of the Year 2002. After the ridiculous virality of the Cheeky Girls Campaign and endless mentions all over the place for The Friday Thing am becoming convinced that there has been some kind of soul/satan exchange going on. Either that or the people behind it are hideously talented. Which can't possibly be the case.

Let's face it, Christmas frequently seems to be over far too quickly (speaking as a big kid who does wish it would be Christmas every day, whilst recognising that that would actually be a bit of a nightmare as a freelance as no-one would ever be around to commission you.) With this in mind, the day has (so far) gone as follows, in a bid to make it last as long as possible:

Midnight: Call other half in pub (I was way too tired to got out and had a very enjoyable sleep) to say Happy Christmas
12.30: Other half gets back. Persuade him that opening one present each would be fine as it was technically Christmas. He was dead chuffed with his 'Have I got New for You' DVD. I loved my book on how to have a number one by the KLF (The manual) cos it's very funny and every so often we get into pissed conversation about getting a number one. Don't get me wrong - neither of us are aspiring musicians. We just see the cheesy shite in the charts and thing 'If they can do it, why the hell don't we and make some money cos either way, there'll still be (mostly) shite in the charts but this way, we'll be rich)

Went to bed. Slept. And slept.
Noon today: (Which is by far the best time to get up.) Got up. I did my traditional Christmas Day breakfast of scrambled eggs with smoked salmon, freshly squeezed orange juice, fresh coffee and Cava (cos some cliches taste nice) plus croissants to soak up any excess alcohol.

1pm: Pressie opening occurs. Am dead chuffed. Got lots of Clarins stuff (am addicted to it but it costs loads so is special occasions only) plus blue contact lenses (which I've wanted for years as I've always wondered what I'd look like with blue eyes. Although I'm very squeamish about putting them in, not usually wearing lenses of any description.), the Pink album and the new Eddie Izzard DVD, both of which I asked for. All in all, a very good stash. My other half rocks.

He was equally happy with his mini DVD recorder and Warp Mints from Firebox, his PDA Keyboard and his Star Wars DVD. Which is nice.

2pm: After pressie opening, the pub beckoned. I considered putting the food on but by this time it was 2pm so the pub was only open for an hour. Technically. However, the landlady liked her Christmas pressies from us (she deserved them, the amount of beers she's bought for us in the last year!) so refused to let us leave. After one pint, we were happy to stay for another, although getting home to cook was beckoning. Just as we were about to leave after the second pint, the landlady put another one down on the table. Ditto after the third. After four pints, we had to sneak out the pub 'cos she was telling us we should stay to dinner with her, and, lovely as she is, the idea of leaving all our Christmas food to go off was not appealing. She's a total star though (and is invited round for dinner tomorrow.)

5pm: Came home and managed to get the chicken (turkey too much for two, particularly given neither of us are big fans of it) cooking, along with French styye peas, creamed spinach, creamed leeks, carrots, roast potatoes, asparagus, sausagemeat stuffing and chestnut stuffing. Was quite pleased for 30 mins work (although will no doubt realise in 2 hours that I left the oven off). Blenders rule for making life easy.

Am now going to chill out, watch 'It's a Wonderful Life' and no doubt get hammered. Happy Christmas.

Xmas Kinky Ecard (Thanks to Gracious Sizzle at Adult Backwash for the link.)

Today, my piece went in The Daily Star - almost a full page (17) with a byline and everything. Was dead chuffed that they've hardly changed a word. I haven't really spent all morning opening the paper, looking at my byline and smiling. Course not. Cos that would be uncool. But they've got nearly 750,000 readers so am dead excited in a very uncool way.

Feel like I'm five and have just got the present of my dreams (a Lego Pirate Ship probably - I soooo wanted one. But figure that spending £80 on one would not be appropriate behaviour for a 28 year old cos I wouldn't play with it enough. Maybe the Barber Shop/Playdo thing instead as is cheaper.)

Have done nothing of any value today. Got up late. Had crisps and Pepsi for breakfast then lay on the sofa randomly flicking through the TV channels in slob-like way. Felt ace. Have got to go to shops to get more Cava as we inadvertently managed to drink most of the Christmas Day stash the other day - I blame the big glasses we've got because you only get 4 glasses from a bottle so it seems like you've both had hardly anything. And then four bottles have vanished. In my defence, I've drunk hardly anything in the last month so a night of alcoholic oblivion was well deserved.

While on subject of inebriation, am convinced Metro horoscope writer must have been half-cut when he wrote yesterday's entry for Taurus:

"So what if your chipolata isn't as big as you thought it would be; it's cold, and getting anything hot inside you is a treat. See the positive side of things."

Had the meeting today where everything was supposed to be getting signed off but unfortunately the repro bods fucked up - again - and produced no dummies. So I've now got to wait until January 6th - which is deeply annoying. On the plus side, I don't need to get stuff approved over Christmas - they Editorial Director trusts me - which is nice.

I've also got round to writing my Christmas Card (albeit a somewhat unconventional one that wasn't really suitable to send to clients...)

It's beginning to feel like Christmas is really starting. All I've got to do tomorrow is sort out a few minor things for the mag and then I can go out to get some more Christmas booze in and see if I can track down holly and mistletoe anywhere.

Went to High St Kensington to get the last minute odds and sods for Christmas. It was really quiet, which surprised me as I was expecting it to be pure hell. It's the first time I've been shopping for frivolous stuff for ages and was a great break from the normal stresses and strains.

The woman in front of me at Tower Records was pulling a bit of a cheeky stunt though. She was trying to return a CD case, 50 days after she bought it because shed 'suddenly realised that the case didn't have a CD in it'. The shop assistants were very polite, if skeptical, but she got really quite narked at their skepticism and kept asking for the manager. I'd have thought she'd have realised how dodgy it looked and been polite, but she'd clearly been of an assertiveness training course of something.

That aside, I now feel prepared for Christmas. The food has arrived (OK, most of the 'food' is actually alcohol but hell, it's Christmas) The tree is up and decorated. The pressies are wrapped. Tomorrow, I'm working again but I know that I've got another break coming up, if only for Christmas Day, so I'm happy.

Today, I slept until 3pm. It rocked. The rest of the day was spent reading papers and getting the Christmas tree. I've now got the fun of decorating it (which I *love*) and am then going to the pub (wearing 'the dress' because I'm still in love with it, like a teenager who plays the same single over and over and over again). Have got a meeting on Monday so I know I can't wear it then but other than that, see no reason not to wear it.

OK, it will look a bit odd if I wear it Christmas shopping (last minute odds and sods) but it's definitely getting worn to every social thing I go to.

Am pleased (and faintly embarrassed) by the Christmas cards that are arriving, cos I'm shit and haven't got any for people. Even if I did, I have no idea of my friend's addresses, so am very impressed that they know mine. I'm working on some festive fuckfest stories as an alternative Christmas card. Email is a wonderful thing.

Today started well. I had to get up early cos I was expecting a parcel and don't trust our postman so had to lurk in the front room listening for the gate to open. As a result, I caught RI:SE for the first time. They were doing a 'what's in the papers?' thing and held up The Star. They drew reference to the main story, Cheeky Plot to topple Girls Aloud, which was all about The Friday Thing's Campaign for a Real Christmas Number One (which, contrary to popular belief, is genuine and not a marketing stunt from The Cheeky Girls. I know because the editor of TFT came up with the idea at 3am on Wednesday. How do I know? I was on IM with him at the time.)

So, why was this a good start to the day? Well, a couple of days ago I mailed The Star to let them know about the campaign cos I've been doing some writing for them recently (see the Christmas Eve issue for my tips on 'Making this Christmas the sexiest ever'. Dead chuffed to have landed some writing work from them, although I'd always figured I'd be writing for broadsheets rather than tabloids. Or certainly before I moved to tabloids. But it's actually really good fun)

I get on quite well with the people there. I'd said something like 'this might make a small silly story."

They clearly thought otherwise.

It had the front page and a double page spread inside. Sadly, The Friday Thing wasn't mentioned. But it's still quite impressive that a meme can generate three pages in a tabloid within two days of launching.

The day got better when the phone rang. The first call was from the people who needed to approve my magazine. They had about four tiny tweaks. Other than that, it was cleared. And then I had a call from the repro bloke. The dummies for the next two issues wouldn't be ready until Monday so was I OK with sorting out the changes then rather than over the weekend?

I love him. From 3pm this afternoon, I've been on a break from work. And I've got a whole weekend to enjoy! After three weeks of *solid* work and very little sleep, I know that the first thing I'll do is catch up on my sleep. The next is get drunk. And then, well, I don't know. It's kind of like 'work-lag' - having to adjust to not working and actually having a weekend. I am sooooo happy.

I then had a male journo mate come over to help me with some porn reviews I need doing for the mag (OK, I guess that's work but drinking beer and watching porn with a mate doesn't feel like work.) We're doing a 'he said/she said' style feature on various sex education and porno films.

Now, even with the job I have, there's still something very odd about watching porn with a boy mate. Particularly when you're 'wearing in' your new leather dress (I was told by the designer to wear it as much as poss when I first got it to help it form to my shape). And have promised to show said mate various sex toys that you've been blathering about (because they're funny. They are, I hasten to add, so far unused) To make things a tad less pervy, I showed him the printouts for the mag (OK, more naked people but all tasteful and more work-related than sex-related) before we moved into the 'watching naked people do stuff' part of the evening.

It was fucking hilarious. We have a very similar sense of humour and had our own running commentary over the video.

"Did she just say 'don't get locked in your mental bedsit'?"
"Yes."
"What the fuck does that mean?"
"I have no idea."
"You can imagine someone getting depressed and their mate going 'why are you so depressed?' 'Because my mental penthouse has just been repossessed and I've got to make do with a mental bedsit."
etc

Every video we watched had us rolling around in laughter rather than passion. We saw many bad cunnilingus scenes (sticking your head between a woman's legs and shaking it from side to side isn't a good move.) We saw many birds dribbling cum from their mouths (which neither of us could see the point of). He kept complaining about the lack of plot so we were fast-forwarding through the sex scenes to get to the dialogue; surely a first?

All in all, a very entertaining time.

Today has been a quieter day than most of the rest of the week. It was supposed to be the day that final approval was given on three issues of the mag. So I stayed up all night to sub one issue and go through the others again (not being anal - the sub who had done issue 2 was dreadful; hadn't picked up on a load of amends I'd made. This was very embarrassing when it went in for first-stage approval.)

I started (having had to wait for the files to come through) at 3am. I finished at 10am, by which time I'd gone through each issue twice (figuring that if I was tired, I should double check myself.) I think it's OK now.

So, having slaved all night and mailed the files to repro as I did them, I waited for the dummy. Called repro guy. No-one there. Called him again. No reply. Called again. Still voicemail. Called his boss (cos by now it was lunchtime and I was getting worried) No reply. Eventually, I call at 3pm.
"How's the dummy coming along."
"It'll all be done by 5pm."
"Why 5pm rather than this morning as we'd agreed?"
"I got really drunk last night and overslept so I only got in at 1pm."

I didn't swear. I think this shows remarkable self control.

On the plus side, this means that I've been able to sleep for a fair bit of the day to catch up, although I still feel a bit spaced. (But I am going to the b3ta party and I'm probably wearing 'the dress') On the minus side, because he got *very* pissed last night, it means that I can't tonight cos all the stuff I was going to do today has had to be put forward to tomorrow. Which is annoying.

Another result of him getting pissed is that I had some spare time I wasn't expecting today - so I tidied the house (the rubbish in the front room was getting to about a foot deep - all clean stuff, paperwork etc rather than food, but still a nightmare to work in.) I realised how weird the flat would look to a stranger when I found, in the course of tidying:

- Two packs of lube
- 5 porn mags
- 3 erotica booklets
- 5 sex books
- 4 sex toys (including the very odd Honey Bee, which is yet another example of weird animal shaped sex toys. It's [surprisingly] shaped like a bee but with antlers so it seems like some kind of bee/snail hybrid. Why???)
- 3 pairs of hold-ups (from the photoshoot)
- One pair of stockings (ditto)
- A silk negligee and matching robe (ditto)

And about a million print-outs of the magazine I'm working on, most of which have (classy) pics of naked people on them.

Feel like a trollop.

[Oh god. The landlady just came in to say Happy Christmas. I chatted away being all smiley and nice. I've just noticed the sex toys on the sofa that I'd put there ready to tidy away. Ah well.]

The perfect combination of Christmas and sex?

It's official. I hate The Friday Thing. They launched a campaign to stop either of the Popstars bands from getting to number one. Their plan? Get everyone to buy the Cheeky Girls single. The email they sent out has gone viral in a big way. I've received it from numerous people. It's on MSN. And now I can't get that bloody awful song out of my head.

There's something embarrassing about hearing two women breathily moaning 'touch my bum' - which is odd, given that I probably write the word cunt more in a day than most people do in a year. Apparently, there are already rumours that the email is a ploy by the Cheeky Girls Marketing Department. But it's not.

Today has been as hectic as usual. There were yet more production problems, with photos going missing and typos being spotted (before it went to press, thank God) The schedule's been put back again. You know that bloke (well, a God, I think) who had his liver pecked out by birds all day and every night it would grow back again...

However, good news of the day is that the newspaper I wrote the article for asked me to do another one for them today. I'd been cheeky and mailed the editor saying 'As you liked my last article, want me to do any more?' Cheekiness clearly works cos I got another commission within about 5 hours. But I'm still not going to start breathily moaning 'touch my bum'.

Whilst on the subject of arses, my dress arrived today. It's very short - far shorter than I remember it - and only just skims my arse. Can't wear stockings with it 'cos they show. Sitting down in it is almost illegal. But it fits perfectly and I love it. Which explains why I'm typing my blog while wearing a leather frock (which obviously, you can see through your monitor).

I didn't get the dress till about 6pm because our fuckwit postman did his usual trick of posting a 'you weren't in so trek a million miles to the main sorting branch to get your package' postcard through the door. We're beginning to think that he doesn't actually bring parcels with him at all 'cos he can't be bothered to carry them - he just has a big stack of the postcards that say we weren't in - when we bloody were.

As a result of him being a tosser, I had six parcels to collect, going back to August (it's a total pain getting to the sorting office.) Three had been returned to sender. I know that one was a load of free erotic books and another was a pressie from the Stripper Diaries writer (who's been dropped by The Guardian, which sucks) However, the third one is a mystery. They couldn't give me a return address and said that it had gone to the depot.
"What happens to it there?" I asked.
"They open it to see if there's a return address inside"
"And what if there isn't?
"They destroy the contents."
That sucks. It means that there are lots of perfectly good things being destroyed (yeah, right, the posties don't take them home) Surely they could be given to charity or something? Of they could try to deliver the thing again (yes, you're supposed to call them to get them to deliver it again but that only works if your postie actually bothers to bring parcels with him. And if they ever answered the sodding phone.)

Of course, because I have no idea what the parcel was, it's become far more exciting than it would otherwise be. It was probably a dodgy promo CD or something, but now I'm sure it was diamonds, a Faberge egg, Tiffany's jewellery or something else cool. Cos obviously, I get sent them all the time.

Only one more issue to sub and two to get approval on for the mag. It's so near yet so far. On the plus side, I think I can probably get away with going out for a drink tonight (sadly, can't get hammered cos I've got loads to do tomorrow but nonetheless, it'll be ace to get out of the house.) It's the first night in a good few days when I haven't just wanted to use any spare time to sleep.

Wrote an article for a newspaper today, in between waiting for files to download, phoning the photographer and doing a million other organisational things. The editor loved it - described it as brilliant - which made me very happy indeed. It's the first time I'll have got anything into a newspaper rather than a mag so I'm dead chuffed.

I also heard back from the trade mag I've just got a column in. They also liked the article I sent them - it'll be in there in January so I'll link to it once it's online.

I feel like a proper writer.

On a more serious note, I'm beginning to feel a distinct lack of Christmas tree in the flat. I'm a big kid so usually get a Christmas tree on December 1st. It has to be a proper tree - one that actually smells of Christmas tree rather than those modern ones that have been treated so that they don't drop needles but don't smell of anything. Need to reorganise the living room first though. It's the first year that I've worked from home so we've got two desks to move. Either that or lose the sofa, which wouldn't be ideal for Christmas slobbing out.

Have got to wait another day for my dress. The designer didn't have time to meet up so she put it in the post instead. Will be waiting for the post eagerly in the morning and will probably end up wearing it all day as I type. Trying to figure out if it's too full-on to wear to the b3ta party on Thursday. Probably is. Doubt that will stop me though.

Well, pulled an all-nighter and everything seems to be in order. Our designers have been ace - although you can tell something's not quite right when you're having conversations about layout at 4am on a Sunday. Still, nearly done and then it's just into the approval process. Woo-hoo.

After that, Christmas can start properly - although the internet has proved really useful in fitting all the shopping in, so I've got that out the way. It's good being able to shop at 5am. Firebox is still shipping orders for Christmas until Wednesday and has some very cool gadgets. Ocado are delivering all the food and booze (and they gave me a Christmas present of lager and chocolate with my last order, which was nice). And as ever, Amazon came in handy. Couldn't risk getting stuff from Thinkgeek this year as I've been so late getting round to the shopping. Shame, cos they've got some ace stuff (be warned, you will get tapped for tax on the stuff coming in but it's still pretty cheap and cool) I particularly like this one (for all my mates who work in tech support) Although my favourite T-shirts ever are on the Emily Strange site - like this one, this one and this one.

I've had a deadline almost every day for nearly a month now. Being constantly on edge and trying to motivate people to give way more than should be humanly possible is hard for an extended period of time. Having to get people to give up weekends and all social life is a tad different from the usual management stuff of making sure that everyone meets deadlines but having time for meetings/motivational drinks to keep people feeling good. The team is brilliant but obviously, as the editor, I'm the only one who isn't allowed to get wound up. I have to calm everyone else down and keep a smile on my face. Oh fucking joy.

It's the third weekend in a row I've worked. There are parties going on that I can't go to. My social life sucks. And yes, I know I was in Dublin for 3 days but I spent more of that on the phone than doing holiday stuff.

I really hope that the mag looks ace at the end of all this!

Have just got back from Ireland. To be fair, it wasn't hell - I had a great time when I could actually enjoy the holiday but I spent over £60 on phone calls in three days sorting out the magazine.

It was all going so smoothly when I left. Everything was in order, on schedule and all that sort of thing. I got on the flight (which was great - am getting used to this flying lark and am no longer a gibbering fool who's scared to look out the windows) and the shit hit the fan. Sod's law. However, ranting about that is no fun. Instead, Irish stuff...

- Smoking is interesting in Ireland. You have to be 18 to buy cigarettes (good call) and the warnings have got radically more full-on since I was last there a month or so ago. They're now over an inch high black bold warnings taking up more than a third of the pack, saying things like 'Smoking kills' and 'Smoking harms you and people around you'. My favourite warning was 'Smoking is highly addictive. Don't start' - surely a bit late by the time you've bought a pack? There were several darkly amusing warnings, giving me the urge to collect the full set, which goes a bit against the intention, I think.

- I have now had an official tourist experience. Decided to go on one of the horse drawn carriage tour things cos it was all Christmassy and romantic looking and I'm a girl. The bloke driving the carriage was very tasty - and most intrigued by my job. He pointed out 'Ireland's Oldest Door' and other such interesting features, including Bono's house. It's huge. And we saw Bono getting into his car so can now tick that off in the 'I Spy book of Dublin' (I Spy books rocked. But there was always something impossible to find, like 'I Spy by the Sea' You've got to spy a rock, some seaweed, some sand and... a mermaid)

- Apparently (according to aforementioned yummy driver) someone walked into the National Gallery there, took a painting worth over £1 million off the wall, walked out, put it in the back of their car and drove off, never to be seen again. Sounds urban-myth-like but entirely possible, I guess.

- The nicest soap in the world is at The Clarence. I have no idea what type it is but it smells gorgeous.

- The best Cosmopolitan's in the world are also available at The Clarence (couldn't afford to stay there but they have a bar that's open to the public. For only (!) ten Euros, you can enjoy their cocktails and feel glam)

- Office parties in public bars are a good thing, if nice people who work there insist on using the company tab to buy strangers drinks. If there are any nice people in Ireland looking for a fab - and screamingly efficient, if the stories she was telling are anything to go by - temp, please let me know as I feel rather guilty that the lovely lady who 'bought' us drinks may have got bollocked and lost her job.

- Thre's a top kebab place between The Clarence and the Jury's Inn, Christchurch. Sadly, I can't remember what it's called because... well, the very act of buying a kebab will surely explain?

- Cafe en Seine is a beautiful cafe that's well worth a visit - all Twenties decor and feels very glam (although the waiters didn't understand the difference between chocolate and nuts which is not a good thing.) And Gotham (Gotham City?) is a fantastic place to have lunch - top guacamole, lovely pizzas and brilliant sandwiches. Not too expensive either.

Oh, and it's been a good week for press. As well as being in Time Out (thanks to Stuart and Green Fairy for pointing it out - I had no idea.) I'm also in the latest issue of Bella (24th Dec issue) talking about how ace my job is (complete with unflattering pic)

And finally... in another sod's law incident, the deadline for the column I've just been offered was brought forward. Nothing like juggling deadlines for fun. Still, got it done so feel quite pleased with myself. Losing track of what day it is cos of all this weekend working though. As to Christmas shopping, am hoping I can still do it online and get stuff in time.

Had my final dress fitting for the leather dress yesterday. As it was deadline on the first two mags, I was a tad fraught so the designer came to me.

I got off the computer (was just into the endless waiting for repro side of things so was nothing more I could do). I had a glass of wine and relaxed for first time in two weeks. She started fitting the dress and I nearly fainted. Ended up having most of the fitting done lying flat on my back, which was a bit different for both of us.

It's only been a couple of weeks or so since I last saw her. Since then, I've lost 3/4 inch all over (except my tits) which is a tad scary. Proves how fattening alcohol is, given that I've been eating healthily but not had time to drink much. Am quite pleased with my arse at the moment, which, being a standard female, is not something I usually feel.

After dress-fitting, carried on drinking wine to ease tension of waiting on repro stuff. Drank rather a lot of it and ended up having an utterly inappropriate but most entertaining coversation with a friend over IM. Hangover this morning upleasant - or maybe it was only having 3 hours sleep again. Still, Dublin tomorrow. I'll probably spend most of my time there on my mobile sorting out the mag but at least I'll get an early night!

Today was deadline on the first two mags. Hell? Looks like a place with a toasty fire by comparison. Mag is designed. All articles are in. I'm dealing with repro house and about a gazillion other people on the phone while the sub phones in the changes to the designer.

And then the bosses start demanding changes...

To be fair, not that many - a few headline tweaks and a couple of article amends but managed to argue my way out of a full spread redesign (this must be so boring to read after all the 'watching people fuck' posts - sorry)

Am also commissioning people for the next issues that are going to press in a week or so. So, am working 3 issues ahead (or so) and juggling thoughts (pics in for issue 4, subbing for issues 1-4, writers for issues 5-12, shoot for issues 5-12) Can now understand women's mags 3 month deadlines much better.

I've realised how much I miss being an editor. It's tiring, it's stressful but my god, is it fun (I withold the right to take this back when 'big' big boss has to approve the copy and may make more amends tomorrow...)

And again, I've realised how ace the designer is. So let me know if you need one.

Also got glowing phonecall from people I wrote the script for saying it was the best one ever (they've shot it now - am guessing excessive champange consumption may have lent the enthusiasm)

Am feeling happy. And tired.

Today, I watched strangers have sex (not for pervy reasons but because we were filming the script I've just written). It was a learning curve - not on sex but on the strangeness that is life. I can't believe that anyone can do this for a living. But they seemed to enjoy it...

We had two couples in today. There are several more over the next couple of days. And, as it's all about sexual positions and how to make sex better, they had to have sex in lots of positions.

Even after doing a photoshoot last week with naked people, I still wasn't quite prepared for today. Watching people fuck is odd. Watching people fuck in absolute silence (as the second couple did) is even stranger.

Highlights of the shoot:

- Bloke number one looking very disappointed when we said the first couple of shots didn't involve penetration because he'd 'spent ages getting ready.'
- Same bloke being asked if he can hide his cock from view and so using his partner's vagina as a suitable 'hiding place'
- Watching that couple do 'the turn' - a rather tricky position involving rotating by 90 degrees whilst having sex. It's less easy than it looks. Actually, that's a lie. It's exactly as tricky as it looks. (oh, for the out-takes)
- The couple continuing to have sex, snog and generally fondle each other between takes, ignoring the vast amount of crew around them
- Said couple then having sex in the dressing room afterwards and getting caught by one of the crew.
- A loud stage whisper from one of the women in the couples telling her partner 'don't take me up the arse' when he was in an ambiguous position.

Lowlights (?) of the shoot were:
- Wood problems with one of the blokes because he'd spent the night before shagging his partner senseless.
- His partner having sex in total silence - not even a mild groan. It took us ages to get her to make a noise - possibly 'cos she'd been shagged senseless the night before.
- A massive row errupting with said couple, resulting in them storming off in opposite directions and refusing to talk to each other on the break (I left at this point so can only hope they made up)
- The sleazy bloke who came up to me and asked if it made me horny writing the script and wouldn't go away. He kept following me and asking me if I was getting off on watching the couples having sex. I explained it was work and he carried on letching. I hid from him in the end.

Ignoring the lowlights, it was a fun day. But definitely strange.

It's been a productive - if exhausting - week. I've gathered together/written four magazines worth of content on everything from foreplay and seduction to sexual positions and body language.

I've gone through the pages that our totally fab designer has done (the man is a god; fast, slick, creative, absolutely on brief - if you need a mag/ad designer then mail me and I'll give you his details - once he's got the rest of the mags done) One mag down, one more to go by Monday. Then 5 days before the next deadline, although I'm in Dublin for three of them which ups the pressure a bit (but I'll certainly need the break!).

I've liaised with the commercial team and the photographer and had everything approved by about a zillion people.

I've chatted with our 'sexperts' (one of whom, coincidentally, comes from my home town and the other studied under the same tutor as I did for his psychology degree). I found someone to write 20 lesbian sex SMS messages. And I've even managed to update Cliterati most days. We've got some ace new stories (have noticed a big increase in stories by men who are fantasising about watching their wife have sex with one or more strangers - all who have cocks much bigger than the husband's 'ten inches'. I'd be very surprised if any woman was moaning with pleasure if she was taking three 10 inch+ cocks at the same time. I edited a few inches out.)

I met up with a fab striptease artist who I want to feature in the mags. I've done an interview with the lovely Pam Spurr for LBC (she's also plugged Cliterati in her ace new book)

And I've seen 13 cocks and 14 pairs of tits and the rest of the bits in the last ten days. Only know the names of about four of the 'owners' of the bits. The contortionist woman was probably the most fun; lairy as hell with the best 'orgasm face' I've ever seen.

I've been offered a monthly column by a fab magazine - nothing to do with sex which makes a change. Luckily, the deadline isn't until early January - dead chuffed I've got the column.

Yesterday, I went out socially for the first time in a week. It was a fun and drunken night. I ended up tango-ing to dance music with an equally drunk mate and another friend asked if they could take a picture of my stocking tops. I know I was drunk cos I said yes (then again, he is cute). Met some cool people and made the most of been out of the house.

Of course, it was back to the grindstone today - transferring camera directions into the script and making last minute amends to the copy. Then more mag stuff.

The Friday Thing provided me with a Penguin distraction that's addictive and I could well do without.

Tonight, I'm writing a list of all the pics we need at tomorrow's video filming. I'll be watching strangers have sex all day. It's a strange way to make a living.

On a break - of the grab a snack while a file sends kind of break. Eating one of my new favourite things. Best freelance snack because:

a) It takes a couple of minutes to prepare
b) It's loaded with calories so if you skip meals, you still won't flag too badly
c) You can load it with veg
d) You can get the ingredients from a corner shop
e) It tastes nice.

Pitta pockets

Mix everything except the pitta bread together. Heat pitta bread. Split into pockets. Cram with mixture. Eat.

Back to work...

Endless articles about sex. Sex for men. Sex for women. Masturbation. Positions. Etc etc etc etc. To be fair, the designer mailed me to comment on how funny one piece was (it was meant to be) which was nice.

And I did come up with a new phrase today to describe the dull 'Tweak left nipple, tweak right nipple, go for the vag' style of foreplay; the three point turn-on. Although a friend pointed out that the three-point turn-off would be more accurate.

Off to bed now. If I have a dirty dream, it'll feel like work.

I'm now one week in to working day and night and I don't approve. 7am-2am is not human. I'm beginning to feel like I'm in a parallel world where I'm not really me. For example, tonight (after working all weekend full-time and getting up this morning to do more stuff) I had two meetings (in the pub) - one very important Cliterati one that's been booked in for ages and couldn't be moved and another one with a fab woman who I want to get involved with the editorial stuff I'm doing (featuring her in the mag etc).

I had three beers. Normally, that's a mild night. But I felt sleepy. I needed food.

I don't approve.

Doing noon-2am means that you can work, have a pub meeting and go back to do more work afterwards still feeling fresh - and still easily fit in an 8 hour working day.

Getting up in the mornings results in tiredness and ruins the pub. OK, maybe I'd be less shattered if I'd had more than 4 or 5 hours sleep a night for the last week but I'm still grumpy. Mornings suck. Although seeing daylight has been quite nice. I'd almost forgotten what it looked like.

Still doesn't make up for pub flaking out though.

I've spent all day writing about shagging. I've got four entire magazines to get produced - from scratch - in 11 days (well, 10 days left now). I'm doing mornings, which anyone who knows me - or reads this blog regularly - will realise is not my idea of fun. And I'm finishing work in the early hours (still got a load of stuff to do and it's 2am) However, I've taken the time out to write about STIs because it's World AIDS Day today and the wonderful people at World AIDS Day Think and Link have asked people who care about the issues to write about it, add links and all that kind of stuff.

I've already mentioned my vested interest before in this blog but I'll reiterate it. I saw a friend of my mother's die of AIDS when I was 13. Seeing Roger fade froma vibrant man to a skeleton in a year, was terrifying - and the image stuck with me enough to practice safe sex. I'm an evangelist about safer sex because I've seen what can happen if you don't practice it.

Another friend - aged 17 - got herpes from her first sexual encounter. She had regular attacks and I believed her when she told me how much they hurt, and messed with her life.

STIs are a fact of life. Sadly, it's a fact that's getting bigger every day because people aren't wearing condoms. This is stupid. Why? Read about all the diseases you can catch and you'll find out. Do you want pus-covered, warty, cracked, itchy, seeping and generally manky bits? Do you want to have to take medication every day or avoid sexual contact entirely because you've got a herpes flare-up? A condom is easy enough to use. So use one. Or more than one, if you get really lucky. Get tested regularly. Inform yourself about STIs - there are loads of resources out there - try Scarleteen (yep, it's for teens but the advice is brilliant) for a start.

Donate money, time or help to Crusaid or the Terrence Higgins Trust. Find out more about AIDs from UNAIDS.org. Have a fundraiser, buy a red ribbon and most importantly, use a condom and practice safer sex. The old line 'Don't die of ignorance' is as true today as it was back in the eighties when there were all the ads on TV. Sex is ace. STIs less so. Look after yourself and your partners and help quell the rise in STIs that we're currently experiencing.