What I didn't need

Today has been an awful sick-day, one of wretched moaning and clutching of my belly and ensuring a constant proximity to the nearest bathroom.I blame the dodgy Chinese last night. Fie on you, dodgy Chinese place! Combined with a fairly stunning hang-over, I'm just all kinds of artistic misery right now.

Then I opened up my email to discover a message with about 6 FW: at the beginning, from my work. Apparently they had sent Very Important Instructions to an email account I use only for job applications, not to the email account that they have sent things to at least 300 times since I started working with them. Oh goody, I love it when things go horribly wrong in ways I couldn't possibly have anticipated! Then when I called my boss to sort the matter out, she mentioned I was rostered on tonight (contrary to what was written in my diary), and it turns out she was right. Fie on you, stupid having to work when I am horribly ill!

At least last night was fun of all sorts. I danced quite a bit- gosh it's been a while since I danced at the Sly- and flirted and was silly, which was all lovely. It was startling to walk in after two weeks of not going there to see that they've rearranged the entire place. I like the new layout, somehow it felt friendlier and less confrontational. I flirted quite extensively with one particular woman, and in the process realised that it has actually been freakin' years since I dated a dyke. I've dated leatherwomen, Daddies, bois, butches and queers but it's been three and a half years since I broke up with my last dyke girlfriend. It's a bit of a culture shock flirting back on that scene but kind of nice as well, a bit of something different.

Now, I am off to find the stodgiest, blandest comfort food Newtown has to sell, and then drag my sorry self to work.

Meanwhile, the description of the Hellfire Club in this article made me spit Gatorade all over my keyboard. Fie on you, stupid Sydney Morning Herald!