What? Did I grow a cock overnight and not notice? If I've got a penis now, I want to see it, and play with it. A lot.

That was me, this morning, on receiving my first bill from our new phone company and finding it addressed to Mr Hypatia Avenue.Bwah.

In other news, here's a weekend update, just because I've been slack with updating the Avenue... after a nightmare week at work which has recently turned into the ill-equipped, badly organised and stroppy-staffed frontdesk of Stress Central Inc., I managed to get away from my increasingly horrible office and the increasingly horrible launch of our new website (this Thursday! Waaaah! Dribble! Gibber! Etc!) and get out to a comedy club south of the river at which I caught up with all my post-grad mates. I think I'm the only one who will be doing the walk of shame across the stage at Guildhall come Graduation day: no one is going to it except me. Pheh, how much fun is that going to be?

Still, the evening was great, even though the comedy was not - out of the seemingly relentless and unfunny, heavily stereotyped and cliched gags about Americans, Germans, straight people and Liverpudlians, only a few things stuck in my alcohol-sodden mind as funny: a song from Luke Skywalker to Princess Leia describing how they can still be sister and brother and in love with each other - in Cornwall. Also, a long and protracted gag comparing women and men's skills with blowjobs. Hee and hee indeed.

Then there was a lot of over-excited and drunken dancing to Tony's Mobile Disco and some euphoric whooping and arse-wiggling when they played my favourite ever Stevie Wonder song for the fifth time in two hours. And then the stumbling journey home and my baffling entry into my old flat which has been recently gutted for redecoration and wondering where the fuck all the walls had gone. Managed to get into my new flat (after a lot of struggling with keys and a missing doorframe) and drifted in and out of merry consciousness in front of the TV until it was Saturday and far too late to have some water and Alka-Seltzer to save myself from a rather nasty hangover.

Despite the slightly green tinge to my morning, Saturday was niiiiiiice: shopping, cooking and unexpected but pleasant meetings on the Tube then getting thoroughly spooked watching the Signs DVD with August D. Sunday was spent doing domestic work and then getting wedding plans underway with my folks over dinner... there's a lot of work to do before we can start having fun... but oh! It's going to be fun, French-style. I'm assured that the campsite is far superior to the website and I trust LittleBigSister's taste in things like this. Well, it ain't a buffet in a Little Chef at least.

In other news, it's my birthday next weekend.

That is all. Over and out.

She said, "I'm tired of the war,
I want the kind of work I had before,
a wedding dress or something white
to wear upon my swollen appetite." - Leonard Cohen, Joan of Arc

Speaking of wedding dresses - or dressing for weddings - I finally got an outift for LittleBigSister's summer bash. It's a pink and gold Bollywood-tastic affair; my cunning plan, you see, to avoid all the girlie agonising over whether or not what I'm wearing "goes" with anyone / anything else. I'm simply going to clash with everything, so that's sorted.

Yes, Friday was spent shopping with BigSister which was very pleasant despite the clouds of heated up air pollution hovering over Oxford Street and seeping under my contact lenses. And then dinner in our lovely new kitchen / living room with BigSister, BigBrother, Mumsy and Papa, with all of us tucking into a big roasted leg of lamb around the rickety table in our bay window. After this day of leisurely shopping and dining, I thought I'd be all refreshed and relaxed for a productive day of house work and... stuff on Saturday. I was wrong.

I got up mid-morning. I had breakfast. I made a list of the things I needed to do. I went back to bed with a P J O'Rourke book (which was, incidentally, on my list of things to do). I got restless. I got out of bed again. I picked up my large, heavy mirror salvaged from the dressing table me and my sisters had shared while growing up. I dropped it. It fell out of the frame and hit the floor edge on. This somehow didn't shatter the main body of the mirror but instead sent small glinting shards flying off the corners. As a reluctantly superstitious person, and materially sentimental to boot, I was understandably upset and set about sweeping up the glass. It was a bright day and the sun happened to glint off a particularly large shard and gave me a blindspot in my vision. It was unfortunately exactly the same kind of blindspot in my vision that accompanies a migraine and before I knew it I was back in bed, guzzling painkillers and praying that I'd pass out before it got too bad.

I haven't had a migraine for a while now and it was extra unpleasant. So I didn't emerge from my room until 6pm by which time all my energy for doing Useful Things had been well and truly killed off. Ugh.

Sunday was much better, spent trawling through the few shops that were open for my groceries which was actually a very pleasant walk in the sun around my part of town which, if you know where I live, is a rare thing. And then having made a full recovery from my nasty migraine the night before, I set about entertaining again, this time for just one very special guest (you know who you are...) Mmmmm.

And then Monday was spent unblocking the toilet (actually, just watching Flatmate A unblock the toilet - I salute you and cannot thank you enough for your courage with that plunger), lying in bed eating Cadburys Creme Eggs and reading the papers, sewing my curtains, writing and... oh, that's it. A happy Easter Break, despite the crippling migraine. How was yours?