The sort of mild sickness drags on but I'm back to eating chocolate buttons for breakfast so I'm obviously attempting to get back on the horse.
Last night saw me quaff three glasses of wine and a tequila shot before the final of burlesque class. There were eight of us having a few drinks to, ah, well, loosen up, which is probably just as well, seeing as how the end of class had all us standing around in stockings, heels, corsets and knickers, having gleefully peeled off gloves, skirts and shirts. Was hugely entertaining - I can't say I'm the best burlesque dancer, in fact, my shimmies are downright clumsy, but it is indeed a great source of entertainment. Especially when I tried to explain to my Swiss flatmate what titillation was. Sadly we didn't get to the nipple tassle stage, although I gather that comes later if I keep going.
I think I have half gotten the hang of sub-editing. I have a sign on my desk now that reads 'Today is not today' because of my bad habit of not remembering that for some stories, not written by our reporters, changing today to yesterday is very important because we are, of course, playing with tomorrow's news. It can also lead to complete headfuckwittage when it sometimes gets a little complicated - when you throw tomorrows and yesterdays into the bargain and you're tired and forgot to bring your smarts to work.
Right now I have a Ruthie slaving over a hot stove, as is her duty, damnit, as a woman and my oldest friend, and then soon we will be going on a doily hunt - because you can never have enough of those. And as I now have an omlette in front of me I think I'll pay that the attention it deserves. And give the pimple on my chin (why, God, why?) no attention whatsoever.