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In a carefully controlled experiment, I have proved, once and for all, that it is the quantity of wine drunk - not its colour, or its grape variety - that makes my head turn to achey splooge the morning after. Sadly, it is also the quantity of wine drunk that makes me go "Feh!! Tonight, once and for all, I can change my personal body chemistry in order to drink Two More Glasses AND get away with it!"

Memo to self: You. Can't.

Rather like Dumbledore to Harry in HBP, I need my friends to swear that when out they will stop me drinking any more than two glasses, no matter how much I beg and plead with them to hand over the bottle.

I met a number of fanboys the other night, chiefly [ profile] ravurian and (briefly in the country) [ profile] andstillitmoves. Damn, I swear that [ profile] ravurian is working some devilish psychic weight transference thing as every time I see him I feel I'm getting fatter while he gets thinner.

Anyway, we talked a bit about men in slash fandom. I still don't have the stomach for a full-on post about men, women and feminism, but this may be the nearest I'll get. Read more... )


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At Home I'm A Tourist

February 2014

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