Zander pays a visit...

So yesterday, the house and associated flatmates were treated to a sight indeed; three female generations of my family in one room. Nanny mark 1, 2 and 3. Of course there wasn't a lot of room once we were all in there! Mum drove Zander up, and while they went home after a few hours, the rest of us all got ready and went out for a meal and then hit town.
Said town was packed. I've never seen Swansea so busy! We went to Que Pasa for cocktails and tragic VJ-ing, and then on to the lava lounge, which evidently was holding some kind of grab a grandad night. The music was old and likeable, lots of disco and some Wham! which always goes down well with me. I usually dance like a mad lady when I'm out (as some friends will surely verify) so it was a relatively quiet one for me. Zander however, seemed to really enjoy himself and is currently going on about how much he likes Wales. I'm still having problems believing that my little brother is eighteen. He's spent the entire week celebrating so he was shattered by the time he got round to visiting me.
I was also supposed to be at a stag do last night; one of my friends from the infamous house in Uplands where I've spent a few evenings (including the one where a good girlfriend of mine came on to me rather disasterously) is getting married. We've been through the whole why thing, and actually I think it's a perfectly fine idea. Not that my opinion makes any difference. Very excited for them both. So last night was the stag do, and although I missed all the stripping, I was in time to help them drink a bottle of my favourite rum (Captain Morgan's Spiced, in case you were wondering) and to chat. The actual thing is happening on Tuesday, so I'm out to dinner to celebrate. Good job my loan came through! Although I really spoilled Zander (and myself) this weekend. Oh well. He'll only be eighteen once.

Jobs I wouldn't mind doing...

• Foreign Correspondent. Providing my basic French ('je voudrais une baguette, si vous plait') is enough on the language front.

• Newspaper reporter. Not sport or British party politics. Other than that, I'm not too fussy.

• Opinion Columnist. My opinion, in a column, reularly, in a paper. Ideal!

• Lecturer. I'd love that.

• Independent International Adviser. Afraid of war breaking out? I'll come over, make a large pot of tea, sit everyone down and help you work out a solution.

• Barmaid in a very busy, yet very friendly pub where everyone who is everyone hangs out.

• Obviously, I'd love to run an all vegan, rock n' roll 50's style diner, with a bus to take it to all the festivals. And I will, one day.

• Professional gift wrapper. I love wrapping presents. I don't want to sell anything, just wrap stuff.

• Professional hugger. I like doing that sort of thing, and the feedback I get suggests that I'm pretty good at it. So why not get paid for it? Don't get paid for anything you wouldn't do for free - see, perfect!

No money? Oh well, go out on the piss anyway.

Right. So no loan yet. Damn. Car tax due. Bollocks. (Large) Overdraft maxed out. Nice. Must be due a night out then. Bethan: "Let's go out dancing on Friday night!" Wicked, as I keep saying, square donkeys wouldn't keep me away. Tim: "You getting drunk on Friday night?" Sure am, I'm going to Jaks, it's illegal to be sober when you get in there. But, my, was I drunk by the time I got in there. It seemed to take ages for us to all get going; we've all had a very hard week, what with the paper being printed this weekend and me being let down left right and centre plus all the emotional trauma. We got into Jaks and I just stood there and giggled. I knew I needed to take off my coat and dig out some money but it was an effort. Time to stop drinking. I usually stop at 11, then dance it out and ta-da, no hangover. So: much water, much dancing. No hangover, but am markedly tired. I had a good night though! Ooh: Bethan kissed a man for the first time since her ex...awesome...that's pretty damn cool.
So today, research, lazing around, nice. Boyfriend away working. Found an amazing course...MA in International Journalism...is that perfect or what? I think I've changed my mind about the Dr thing....

Ha, I'm so embarrassing!

I was talking to Zander, my little brother, who's actually not so little anymore, and is indeed about to become a man, on MSN messenger. I wanted him to read my articles for the paper to gain his point of view. So he did, and was completely embarrassed by something in almost every article I'd written! "Eugh, that's just what every brother wants to see online written by their sister!" Aparently mentioning breasts and condoms and balls (and not the football kind, either) is slightly cringeworthy. He clearly doesn't know me at all! What on earth would I talk about if I never mentioned breasts? Absolutely mad, there's no way we can actually be related. I bet he's wishing we weren't, right now, too.

Moany moan moan moan...

Bollocks, bollocks bollocks. I've come down with a virus for the first time in many months. Looks like the whole office has got it, yesterday's editor meeting was punctauted by everyone coughing. Yuk, I just hope I didn't give it to the boyfriend at the weekend. So I manged to sleep last night for five hours, after which I had to get up and self-medicate. What do you mean there's no lemsip in the house? And I'm supposed to go into uni for a lecture later. The last lecture of that course, so I suspect it's pretty important. Dammit. The sun has barely risen and I'm sat up in bed in my fluffiest jumper, typing this load of fever-induced rubbish. In case you hadn't quite got it, I'm no good at being ill.

What the hell? I went out??

Yup, Swansea was treated to an evening's entertainment as I (and, indeed, most of the editors of Waterfront) went on the piss. Sorry, I mean, partook in an evening out during which we imbibed several alcholoic drinks. Messy is not the word. My god.
Seriously though, it was singularly the best night out I have had in a long time.
We started in Varsity, a well decorated pub with a reputation as a cattle market. It was quiet, in fact there was only a couple of us there by the time I stumbled in - in the cutest pair of red shoes you have ever seen, I hasten to add - which cut my toes open and are now covered in blood. Nice. And I was late. After everyone else turned up, half an hour later, a few drinks and a remarkably efficent 'steal the stool' protocol whereby whenever someone got up another would sit down, which led to much mixing, I had drunk two glasses of rose and a dark rum and was certainly well on my way.
Eventually we got out of there and went to Idols. I'd never been there before, but it was actually really quite good and I did have a good time there. The music was shockingly cheesey, just the way I like it, but holy crud, the drinks. I'm sure I drank one in every colour of the rainbow. They were awful. Believe it or not, you can get a cheap version of VK - the cheap version of WKD - called VS. Disgusting. And I drank it anyway.
We then moved on to Revolution, where I nearly got everyone chucked out by threatening to walk across the table because I wanted to get out, but they have 'U' shaped tables and I got a bit claustrophobic. Meanies.
Anyway, while I was there, it's entirely possible that I might have suggested that we went to Jumpin' Jaks - the cheesiest club in the town, dontcha know. This was quarter to one.
So, off some of us went, me barefoot in the rain. We were all soaked through by the time we got there. Once there, we had the pleasure of the entirely predictable retro cheese music. I loved it. And I had the pleasure of danicing with Dai, who not only is incredibly clever (no, seriously, you should see his website http://www.daibach.co.uk/) and pixie-like, but is very good fun -and also my height, pretty much. Short men are definitely the best to dance with. For me anyway.
We had a very good time, and he took good care of me - Jak's can also be a bit of a cattle market, especially with the middle aged men who often lurk on the side of the dance floor - yuk. However, it's still my favourite club, no doubt.
There was much hugging and dancing and drinking (ahhh, Waterfront gets loved up!) We eventually stumbled out and headed home. I got a whole 5 hours sleep before cycling into uni during a break in the rain. The office was hangover central. I had to leave at 3ish. Well, I'd done some proof reading, dammit. I've just got out of a beautiful bath, and at my house tonight we're watching X Men 3, yay! I love Wolverine. Perfect hangover night in.