"A night to remember" they said

Prom has now come and gone, I am the first to write after the magical event (because Rory decided to write the post early - he's the only organised one). I am obviously NOT part of the LGBT community, so I thought I'd just recount the events of a normal prom… except NORMAL is not the right word. Apart from the world turning against me on this fabulous night, one must also consider the influence of the several LGBTs with whom I surround myself . I was sitting on my bed thinking, where do I start? The careful work of picking a dress? The unexpected zombie-making pre-party? The panic whilst getting ready? The failed journey to get there? The awkward dancing? The party-crasher? The total failure of the after-party which never happened? Or the three letter word the Dj said was the only thing that came after prom?

There is so much information going around in my head and so little time. Although some homo-journalists have already left for France, I still have business to attend to before I can join them, which means my time is presently occupied in packing (trying to fit my whole wardrobe in 20kg requires hard work) and partying while at the same time hoping I will be conscious enough to get to the airport in time for my flight tomorrow.

I therefore must say that my amazing short story about a group of crazy teenagers going to prom will have to wait for another day, as I simply do not have the time.

Nevertheless, I will just write a few lines giving a brief overview of my opinion on Prom. Ever since I was a kid, I kept watching movies in which Prom was THE event to attend. Everyone got really excited, chose the perfect dress and pray they'd be asked to the prom by some cute guy. I don't know how it is in America but... totally overrated! Who cares about the perfect dress and the perfect guy and the limo (ok I care about the limousine!) and all that pressure. The only thing that matters is having fun with your friends hoping you WILL see them again. I never had a "year 11 prom" because, I was not in England and wherever I was (I shall not betray myself by revealing my identity) there is no such thing as prom. So this was my first prom! Was I excited? At first yes, then not really, especially after the pre-party which left me totally knackered. You'd think my boyfriend would be my date to prom, but no sir. He was not coming to prom. So did I go alone? Was going to, we are all friends after all, who needs a date? But then I decided to ask one of my lovely girl-friends and although she was dubious at first she finally accepted! So I may not be part of the LGBT community, but I went to prom with a girl! *shock horror* Not that it made any difference at all, but at least I could use it as an excuse to make her dance with me, although when my boyfriend crashed prom he stole me from her - oops.

In conclusion, the Prom itself was quite fun. Everyone was wearing either beautiful or just plain funny dresses, I ate fruit with knife and fork, got a free drink for eating a whole "butter flower" (basically a spoon of butter), laughed, got covered in chocolate from the fountain and danced until my feet died.

The most important thing about Prom? Have fun with friends!

Love,

Miu xx


P.S. Don't forget to e-mail us at homojournal@gmail.com for any questions, comments, request or if you are bored and have nothing better to do. We are available 24/7 (that is 24 minutes every 7 hours) so try your luck!

Prom is like a packet of chocolate digestives.

I didn't go to the Year 11 Prom. Back then I was barely out, had no boyfriend nor any idea who else was gay and interested. Now, I am completely out (I think), still have no boyfriend, and am even more clueless as to who is gay and interested. Perhaps it's worth noting that at the time of my Year 11 prom, I was aware of only one other "out guy", although neither of us were particularly interested in each other at the time. Coincidentally, by some bizarre circumstance we ended up 'dating' for a brief period of time during my lower sixth year. I'm not sure 'dating' is exactly the word here, since we never actually once went on a proper date nor did he ever show any interest in me once I'd plucked up the courage, half out of desperation, to ask him out. But I digress, back to the topic of being gay at Prom.


Another reason I didn't go to the Year 11 Prom was that I had been single for far too long - pretty much my entire life, to be truthful - and quite a few of my friends had a romantic attachment of some description. To me, the thought of watching other people make out in front of whomever cared to look while I remained sadly unwanted and unloved was a rather depressing one, and I knew that I would start feeling a little sick by the end of it. You see, I've always imagined that Prom as a single gay guy would be a bit like a massive packet if chocolate digestives: at the start it's great, but by the end you feel a bit sick from a) watching everyone get off with one another and you're sitting there like a plonker with only your horrible biology teacher and an empty bottle of J2O for company, and b) all the digestives you've eaten (you're now more than a little constipated). 

And there's always that lonely biscuit right at the end of the packet, when its companions have met their doom inside your stomach... 

So it will come as no surprise that the idea of sitting on my own with nothing but the evil Physics teacher and an empty half-a-bottle-of-wine this time round didn't exactly fill me with joy. Yes, we're apparently only allowed half a bottle of wine or something stupid like that. It's a bit rubbish, but don't judge.

Perhaps you're wondering why I bothered going at all then, given that I had no-one to go with, and wasn't about to give up feeling awkward about it. Well, despite my relatively slim chances, I decided to go because I'm a bit of a 'FOMO' homo - that's a fear of missing out homo (and I'm sure we'll come back to this in a few weeks time). I don't want to not go, because I'm terrified I'll miss out - partly because of all the banter I'd miss, partly because there's a minuscule chance that the man of my dreams is hiding somewhere amongst my esteemed former classmates just waiting to whisk me off into the sunset.

In my fucking dreams.

Any single person will tell you that the thought of going to the school Prom alone is probably their second-worst nightmare. The first-worst is clearly waking up to find they're out of Jelly Babies and Vodka. Maybe Prom will become more bearable for the single man/woman/shemale if he/she/they (not sure if that's the correct pronoun, will get back to you on that) thinks of it as that gigantic packet of chocolate digestives I was talking about earlier; after too much, it all gets a bit sickly.

Sorry for rambling a bit this week, I haven't quite been with it since.... well, since Mel started counting down the days 'til results day, frankly. I'll try and be a little less vague next week. In the meantime, you know where to find us.

Our school is holding a leaver's prom

I was never a princess-y type girl, never the type to look at brides and dream of when it'll be my turn to wear the big puffy cloud-thing. I was raised to hate pink and girly things: "you don't like pink.. you hate pink" my mother always used to say, so I've always avoided pink clothes and overly girly things. Besides, barbies were boring, toy cars and fake tools are always better.

Ok, maybe not always...

So from that angle, the prom doesn't excite me. I don't care for the promy dress. If anything, I want to wear a tux, but my grandma has forbid it: "Oh NO, you don't want people thinking you're a dyke". She doesn't know that ship has already sailed..

Can't I just stay home instead?

She was very disappointed when she discovered I didn't have "a boy to escort me to the prom". She told me that she wasn't going to tell Brenda, her neighbour, because then I would have lost to Sharon, Brenda's Grandchild. That's the second reason I don't like prom, it's beginning to make me feel like a show-dog, and not a prize-winning one. We are all being judged, if not by our own grandmother and their nosy neighbours,  by the people in our class and our teachers.

There aren't many guys with long hair these days, can't we go with girls instead?

The prom is one of those big ceremonies, that we've seen on the telly, always the same: a guy asks a girl to the dance, she agrees, he turns up at her doorstep with some flower-thing, and drives her to the prom, at which point slow music comes on, everyone starts to slow-dance and they kiss, have their moment, and sneak off to the football pitch and....

sometimes you wake up on your own the next morning..

But then when you're in a gay or lesbian relationship, it's going to be a tad different. There are four approaches:

• One of you decides to be the "girl" and the other the "guy"
• You both act your own gender, and make it up as you go along..
• Or the same as above, but both acting the opposite gender (think: the lesbians going to the prom in suits stereotype)
• Hide the fact that you're gay, and find someone of the opposite gender to go with

There's also another, separate approach:

Your school has banned you from going.. and it's been in the news quite a bit in america, where a girl was banned from her prom, for trying to bring her girlfriend. She complained, and so they cancelled the prom for everyone. 

But they're SO fucking cute!!

It is just a bit worrying... but oh well... they haven't banned us yet.. So we should be ok, Mel and I ://

love eli xxx

ps, where the fudge is todostrieb??? She seems to be MIA D:

also, comment or email if you wish >.<

Cinderella You Shall Go to the Prom

Ah, Year 13 prom. I can almost smell the clouds of hairspray, fake tan and perfume now.  After being disappointingly single at my last prom, this year I'm going all out. Think Big Fat Gypsy Weddings prom dress and gold KG lilah flat gladiator sandals. Luckily for me I’m blessed with Eli as my date. Unluckily for my Nan, it appears as if I am unable to snag a guy for longer than a week, due to some horrific personality flaw or physical deformity.

This is me. You may recognise me from such films as Toy Story 1, 2 and 3.

In my head Eli is a Japanese version of Mulan. I am Belle. Although, granted I only decided on Belle because she is the nerdiest princess. I tried to find a picture to illustrate our princessness but am now scarred for life, tip don’t Google the word lesbian in front of your childhood heroes. In reality I will look more like a potato standing next to Megan Fox....I guess what I’m trying in my roundabout way to say here is that my Prom preparations are much the same as last time round, when I didn't have a date female or otherwise. The only difference is I have shorter hair so the up-do is no longer a necessity and that when my extended family ask if I have a date I stretch the truth a little. I find “No I don’t have a boy friend at the moment” is a nice skirting of the having a girlfriend part of my life.

Doing it the Essex way. Luckily my bitch haircut saves me from the chaviness.

Now, as for my close family, I cheerily admitted going to prom with Eli. My mum said this was the only way I’d be able to look a normal size, when all the other girls will be wearing heels and all the guys I know are now taller than me. My dad told me to make sure I took lots of pictures. A few of us are staying at Eli’s house, so we’re all getting ready together. Not many girls can say their partners advised on make-up, laced them into their corsets and helped test perfumes.

I have no fear of actual prom night, most of my teachers know I have a girlfriend. If they don’t well, they’ll soon find out and hopefully it will be a secondary paedophilia deterrent. All my school friends already know, and I’m supporting the foundation of a Eli and Mel fanclub, so no worries on that front. Perhaps there is a small part of me conditioned to believe that at least one of us should be wearing a tux. On the other hand, after having a dream in which Eli and I got married, both wearing white poofy dresses and walking down the aisle together, I can feel some of my social conditioning slipping away.

A quick word for our less fortunate LGBT brethren. When exploring ideas for this post I came across this title on the guardian website “School cancels prom over fear of lesbians”. Dear lord, fear? What do they think we’re going to do to them? Essentially a girl wanted to bring her girlfriend as a date to prom, so it got cancelled. This doesn't seem any different to when black people were barred from clubs or Jewish people were barred from restaurants. If you agree with that, politely put, you are a lemon and I'm glad that your prom got cancelled because you didn't deserve it. Any lesbians are welcome to come with me and Eli. We will stage a lesbian prom take over, eat everyone’s toes and use their eyebrows for our witchcraft. Luckily this story did spawn some rather funny motivational posters, I have included for your enjoyment.

Much love, white wine, balloons and dancing,

Your Mel x

Prom? 3 days? Fetch me my lace blindfold...

Oh, look, it's me again. Did you miss me? Probably not, but that's of little consequence to me, as I desperately sift through the Mauna Kea sized pile of clothing on my floor. You see, while I was off enjoying myself in pubs, bars and ditches, I quite completely forgot that Prom is:

a) on the 28th of June, and
b) quite a big deal.

Even if you are only there for the complementary red wine.

Even the fact that this week's theme is "Prom from an LGBTQS Perspective", and has been for 2 weeks didn't alert me to the fact that Prom might be taking place sometime around now. It just didn't cross my mind at all. Back in Secondary School I spent 2 months panicking about it, trying to somehow find the perfect outfit to say both "I am fashionable, dapper and charming" and "I am very much, 102%, absolutely heterosexual" at the same time. In college, I could turn up to Prom dressed as Carmen Miranda and not too many people would give me a second glance.

Even the ones that did would only be doing so because my hat was more appetising than the food.

In Secondary School, I had no idea who I was. I knew I'd considered guys handsome, even attractive, but it didn't click in my head that that was ok. As such, I spent almost all of Prom walking around in a daze, trying my level best not to look at the sporty guys in their fetching jackets, lest the world catch fire, the sky turn black and demons run amok. It wasn't amazingly pleasant.

"He shouldn't have worn tight trousers. And that bow-tie - oh god, that bow-tie..."

Now, I can grope my friends as much as I like. I even have an in-joke with one of them about it (to Todostrieb's perpetual disdain). I'm not saying that this short post has exhausted every possible issue the LGBTQS community has with Prom; that's why there are 6 of us, to cover everything. I know there's issues with whether or not you can bring your boyfriend/girlfriend/hermaphrodite/transexual friend to Prom, and whether it's acceptable to dress as Lily Savage if you're 6ft 8" and have a goatee, but I can only comment on what I've experienced, and at the moment, the worst thing about Prom is that I have fuck-all fancy enough to wear apart from my fetish gear.

And I'm only 5ft 4", have no goatee, and my boyfriend doesn't even go to the school, so those issues, much like whether or not the Constant Readers wanted a double dose of James, are of little consequence to me.

Feel free to harass or praise us at homojournal@gmail.com, we get off on it.

Yours panickingly,

James

Seriously, I think Todostrieb's good will will only withstand so many incidences of me groping her boyfriend's crotch; I may be murdered soon.

We should not be allowed out in public.

While reviewing the items has been fun (if a little difficult to explain to the parental units), I personally think that the voyage to Westfield in Stratford to actually procure them was far more interesting.

When I left the house on that fateful day, I had no idea of the insanity that awaited me. I honestly expected it to be a normal day for me - friends, sweets and titillation.

Pictured: all three above ideas.

I was wrong. Very wrong. The madness started before I'd even left my home town (which I won't name, for fear of lunati-I mean, our lovely readers visiting unannounced). You see, me and Eli live quite near to each other, so I agreed to wait for her at the train station. I assumed I could wait there in peace, unharried by the weirder members of the community, but no sooner had I set up camp by an inviting looking wall, than I felt a tap on my shoulder. I whirled round, let out a manly yelp, and prepared myself to face the unholy terror that had surely crept up on me with malicious intent.

I found myself facing this:

Look at her, just waiting for a chance to strike.

It was a charming old lady, asking for directions to the hospital, and now very perturbed by the apparently insane young man loitering outside the train station. I gave her directions and she waddled off. Eli arrived shortly after, and I boarded the train with her before any further geriatric muggers could arrive. 

I just wish to clarify something: Westfield is big. Not slightly big, nor big with an asterisk next to it, denoting a hidden qualifier, just plain big. So when me and Eli arrived there, we had no idea where to wait for the others. At the entrance? In the centre? In the Gent's toilets? We had no idea, so we set upon the safest option being directly outside Ann Summers. It was only once Todostrieb and Mel arrived that we realised how we looked. 

Totally innocent?

Here we were, two shifty-looking teenagers loitering outside a sex-shop, and now we'd been joined by two more shifty-looking teenagers. The only consolation was that, as the only male, I must have appeared to others as either the gayest or the luckiest guy in the world, and I'm fine with either of those. Mel rightly pointed out the fact that the staff in Ann Summers were actively staring at us, and that we couldn't go in now, so we skulked off to Pink Berry for fro-yo.

Mine was larger than everyone else's, but also quite significantly not-straight. Fitting.

Over our cold confectionery, we discussed tactics: which shape should we take to enter the shop? Diamond formation? Single file? Had the staff of Ann Summers already called security? Should we abscond with our yoghurt while we were still free to do so? There was much confusion, until, as a group, we collectively went "Fuck it.", and marched straight into the shop.

Choosing the sweets was also an interesting occurrence. The White Chocolate Sperm was unanimously reviled, and Rory had already claimed the Giant Chocolate Willy, but apart from that I think we all wanted to try everything. We'd each point to something, go "Ooh" or "Ah", then point to something else and repeat the process. The actual sweets we ended up with were the result of us beginning to feel like we were overstaying our welcome in the shop.

"Seriously, just set up a tent and be done with it."

Purchases made, we set about the arduous task of waiting for Rory, who was trekking his way down from wherever he lives. Norfolk, Southend, Ganymede, somewhere like that. Meanwhile, I invited Amber (our lady of the lovely guest post) down, for fun and socialisation. While also waiting for her, we came across two gloriously camp people in funny hats:

Identities hidden to protect the insane.

A semi-naked man:

Such a shame, Rory and Miu missed this...

And Mel was cursed by the girl from The Ring:

But it's alright, they're dating anyway.

Then we marched off to Lakelands at Todostrieb's request to look at pots, pans and banana cases. While waiting there for Amber to arrive, Todostrieb tried to take a photo of me, Mel and Eli. Disappointed with the first try, she scolded us and told us to "look gayer":

That's me on the left, standing next to a lesbian couple kissing and being told off for somehow not being camp enough.

Once Amber arrived (sporting a fetching new haircut), we set off to the toy store, because we could:

One is small, fierce-looking and not suitable for children under 3. The other is a Lego character.

Then, once Rory arrived, we headed back into Ann Summers, which by this point was probably filing a group restraining order against us. This, combined with Amber's presence, led to Rory buying his fated chocolate member, Amber buying a lacy dress to wear to an upcoming Fetish Evening, and me buying a lacy mask to wear to the same event:

They didn't have a dress in a colour that suited me. 

Once we'd done that, I think we were unanimous in our belief that the outing should be drawn to a close. We were tired, fraught, and in danger of being exorcised by Ann Summers employees, under the mistaken assumption that we were ghosts haunting the place, so we headed back to our respective homes.

Going out with us is always exciting.

As always, we're available for sexy chats at homojournal@gmail.com.

Until next time (read: tomorrow), dear readers,

James

I think you'll agree, I look rather fetching in my lace blindfold. Amber said it reminded her of a garter. Does that mean my face reminds her of a thigh? If so, what do I say to that? Thank you?

Dessert + Sex = Heaven

First of all I would like to apologise for not posting yesterday (because it is 1:30am). As Eli nicely explained, we experienced some technical difficulties (by that we mean I was abducted by an evil monster which I have now killed, but the government said this was classified information so ssshhh it's a secret). I also wanted to point out that Saturday the 23rd was the 100th anniversary of Alan Turing (Google was very entertaining on this day). You may be wondering why this matters, so let me enlighten you. Alan Turing was, not only one of the greatest intellects of the 20th century, but also a practicing homosexual. This was illegal in the UK at the time, and lead our dear Alan to commit suicide, following his conviction for "gross indecency". This is also a reason why Turing's work was not fully recognised or published until after homosexuality was decriminalised. I find it a very sad story, and one cannot help but wonder what else he could have achieved if he had lived his life naturally (and by that I mean if he had not killed himself not if he were straight). Nevertheless, this is also a reminder that, although there are still struggles and issues surrounding homosexuality, there has been a lot of progress since Turing's time. Now before I get into some sobby speech about hope and equality, let's get on with the theme.

Unfortunately I was not able to go to Ann Summers with my fellow homojournalist, because that day I was called to stop a meteor which very nearly destroyed our lovely planet (once again, it's a secret). Therefore I had to use something I had already purchased from the same Ann Summers: Body Paint, not exactly a sweet but close enough (I like being a rebel).

Report Summary

Number of items: 2
Item(s) reviewed: Body Paint
Flavour: - Nookies & Cream
                - Chocolate
Purchased from: Ann Summers
Price: £5 I think?
Use:  Perfect for getting creative and adventurous in the bedroom. Scribble your masterpiece all over your partner's body and then slowly lick it off. It's romantic, fun and delicious (according to Ann Summers).
Evaluation: See below for further details .
Rating: Nookies & Cream --> 7/10 or 8/10 … I'm an indecisive person
              Chocolate --> 3/10
Further information: Two words, Whipped Cream. Easy and affordable (can be found in any supermarket) and no one will judge you for buying it. It gets a full 10/10. Yummy and Fun.

I will not go through the bother of giving different ratings for different "things" about the product as my colleagues did, mostly 'cause I'm lazy and disorganised (and very bad at rating stuff so be warned), so let me just give you an overview of my findings and my very personal opinion (no, I will not be reporting the "experiment", just my conclusions).

Nookies and Cream

Although I am still not sure about WHAT flavour "Nookies" is (if it is not a pun then I do not wish to know), the picture shows Oreos and I love Oreos. Does it taste like Oreos? Now here is where my (in)capacity to judge food shows… I don’t really know. I'm not good enough to identify the specific "Oreo" flavour but it definitely has some chocolate and cream in it (unfortunately I do not have the product with me so I cannot taste it again or check the ingredients list). Nevertheless I believe it has a very pleasant taste. The texture makes it lose a few marks, simply for the fact that it is relatively sticky, messy and difficult to get completely off. Having said so, it offers a good excuse to either lick it off slowly and thoroughly (sexy) or take a nice shower with your partner (very sexy). It is fun to play with and simply makes everything taste better. It must however be handled with care, and keep in mind its purpose!  Things could easily get out of hand and totally UNsexy.

Chocolate

I love chocolate, I really do, and that is why this was a total disappointment. The flavour! Where to start? Definitely not chocolate! It tastes very artificial, chemical, like plastic. A real let down that has nothing to do with my lovely chocolate. But I must say, maybe the flavour isn't even the worse part. It is a lot more liquidy than it's cousin (Nookies and Cream) and a billion times more sticky! This means it will get everywhere and never come off! It is unpleasant to taste AND to have on your skin; I might even say that it isn't even worth the shower… but I won't 'cause that would be blasphemy and showers are always nice. It is vaguely entertaining if that's all you got, but I definitely do NOT recommend it.

Whipped Cream

Not from Ann Summers and not being reviewed, but I felt the need to dedicate a few lines to it. It is very widely used for various things; he is a simple guy, but with great potential. Tastes good and let's face it, everyone has fun squirting it (appropriate for the situation don't you think?). Just saying, it is less messy then the body paints and way more fun, though you can mix it up with one of the flavours.

Sorry if I kept it short, but I didn't want to get carried away and reveal secrets that should be kept in the bedroom ;)

Love,

Miu xx

P.S. Don't forget to e-mail us at homojournal@gmail.com for any questions, comments, request or if you are bored and have nothing better to do. We are available 24/7 (that is 24 minutes every 7 hours) so try your luck!

Jelly Willies Review

The Ann Summers Food Review continues, and for me, it was the Jelly willies, a rainbow of gummy penises and peni...

Name of the good 4/10

I suppose as a little known brand and good, it may be a hood idea to have a name that states exactly what the good is “Jelly Willies”… 

It wasn't very spreadable :/

However, it is more of a misleading product description than a name, as it is more of a gummy-sweet than what you would imagine Jelly to be. One might even wonder whether it is false advertising, but I will forgive them, because there is gelatine in the sweet.

The definition of Jelly “A sweet, clear, semisolid, somewhat elastic spread or preserve made from fruit juice and sugar boiled to a thick consistency.”

Packaging 3/10

Whose idea was it to put a mutant diseased blob on the front of the box?

It put me off.

Price 7/10

I paid £3.00 for this, and compared to a pack of Haribos costing £1.00(which gives you a far greater quantity of gummy-sweets, and they taste better), I felt a little cheated by this.

However studying business and economics have taught me a few things as to why they can(/may have to) charge a higher price:

1)      The products are differentiated (the jelly-willies are penis shaped), so they don’t have to compete on price.

2)      They are also operating in different markets, Haribos for the sweets and sugar industries we buy them merely to snack and to enjoy the taste, whereas the Jelly-willies operate in the novelty/jokes industry.

3)      Haribos are a much larger company, and produce at a larger scale, so can benefit from economies of scale, so their marginal costs are lower, and so can charge a lower price.

4)      Laws of demand and supply..

So basically, penises are funny, so we buy them.

Looks  8/10

It's not very realistic, but we should give them credit for capturing colour-diversity and the fact that nobody's perfect... just look at all these mutated ones... 

What do you think?

Also, they're cute! I would buy a necklace with them on... 

Taste 6/10

The sweets come in a variety of colors, each with their own flavorings.The taste of the willies was generally ok, however it  wasn’t as great as harribos or fruits pastels. I liked the red strawberry flavoured ones, but hated the orange and the green ones… But that’s also my preferences with fruit pastels, so I won’t deduct points for that.

The main reason for the low score for the taste, is the texture. Frankly, I was disappointed, and quite put off by them. The penises were too soft. They needed to be harder. Please put more gelatine in it next time..

But then perhaps it was done purposefully? On one hand, it may be more pleasant and tasty for the willies to be chewier, or instead be a hard-boiled willy sweets. But maybe people object to having hard penis sweets? I’ve heard of penis shaped lollies, but not boiled sweets… 

Do I see a gap in the market? What do you think guys, should we go for this business opportunity?

Humour 7/10

It was funny at the beginning, asking friends “would you like a penis?” and then flashing my jellied willies, but after a while, the humour of it goes, and I became the sad girl with a box of jellied willies on her nightstand. I still have loads left over, as evident in the pictures date-stamped with today’s date.. (Sorry, I mucked up my camera settings)

Sexiness? 0/10

Food play involving the jellied willies? NO. Just no. I would run. Firstly, there’s a graphic of a green STD penis on the front.

sexyyyyy

Secondly, you’re not supposed to stick sugary stuff “up there”, because you can get a yeast infection. As “cute” as these sweets may appear, they can be nasty.

But Eli, food play isn’t all about sticking food “up there”, you could lick/ eat the penises off each other…

…………..No…………. *shakes head slowly*

Over-all 5/10

Yes, this is a wonderful, brilliant product, for the first few minutes (or seconds) after purchase, or after receiving as a gift. It is funny. 

However after that, the humor and novelty of it quickly runs out. I doubt I'd go and buy it again...

Well, after all that work, I've put into this post, I'm tired now, so I shall go relax with my pot of tea and my leftover willies from the photoshoot. ta ta 

Eli x

ps, We welcome comments and emails and other means of communication... and of course we will happily reply to them eventually :) So.. yus.. email us! 

*feels awkward*

Giant Chocolate Willy

Eli sends her love and apologies for not being able to post today as she's unwell.

For fear of sounding like a grumpy sod, there are few things that will get me really excited; so few in fact, that I decided to make a list:

1. Coffee
2. Chocolate
3. Season 3 of Sherlock
4. Alcohol of any sort
5. Cock.

You can imagine, therefore, just how excited I was when I discovered that Ann Summers sell two of those things in one: a massive chocolate penis. 

It looks bigger here than it actually was...

I was rather looking forward to this particular willy, not just because it was made of chocolate, but because it had cost £8 (plus train fare), I was expecting great things from it. I was a little disappointed then, that shortly after unpacking it from the massive box it came in and before the above picture was taken, I had successfully managed to stick my thumb through the base of the scrotum, causing more chocolate than I had imagined to go flying across my room. I managed to save it all before my dog got at it though... The next thing I noticed was the astounding lack of detail; there were some very small, almost indistinguishable flesh-like creases on the ballsack, which I'd broken, and that was it - the only other thing was the huge line going around the whole thing where the manufacturers had clearly stuck the two halves of the penis together... it was a little off putting to be frank.

This is where I start sounding like a bit of a man-slut, but just to give you an idea of just how massive this thing was, it was a tough job fitting the end in my mouth... and my mouth isn't small... ANYWAY moving on.

My next disappointment came some time after I started eating this penis - the ballsack and half of my penis fell off without warning (the chocolate one, not mine...). While it sounds painful, I confess it made it easier to eat - and since I'd managed to put a hole in the bottom of the ballsack I suddenly had a pretend telescope to spy on my neighbours with.

For anybody considering popping out to their local Ann Summers and buying this, there are a few things I'd advise first:

1. Don't be alarmed by the health warning on the back of the box: "THIS IS AN ADULT PRODUCT." If you are alarmed by it, then you probably shouldn't be buying it.
2. Don't be confused by the "(UP)" which appears on the receipt next to GIANT CHOCOLATE WILLY - I still have no idea what it means, I think they might also have a down one, but I didn't ask.
3. Take your time eating your willy. It's a bit sweet and it's a lot to handle in one go... it took me two days to eat it all.
4. If Chocolate sex is your thing, don't use this as a sex toy, it will break into tiny chocolate fragments at the lightest touch. Unless of course that sort of thing turns you on, in which case seek medical help go for it.
5. If, like me, you're gay and you're male, don't be disappointed by the lack of items aimed specifically for the homosexual market... it is a ladies underwear shop after all...

In short, this was probably the most interesting (and sexual) £8 I've ever spent, and if you love chocolate and penises, it's an £8 well spent, despite some fatal flaws - the line around the edge has traumatised me for life. As a sweet: 7/10. For the chocolate fetishists who engage in chocolate sex: 1/10. Overall: 5/10

It Burns Like Fire

My review was of “popping candy willies” (link here) I think we’ll all agree on how subtly and tastefully named they are.  Unfortunately, due to my genetic make up, I was too lazy to take photos so instead have included my magnum opus from Microsoft paint and an assortment of clip art as a photorealistic substitute.  I will rank on various aspects out of ten, I suggest mobile readers give up now.

Packaging: 3/10

Honestly, if you gave me ten minutes on Photoshop I could do better, the colour scheme appears to have been devised by James, I mean really, are they marketing these at children? Pink and black akin to their bags might have been a more mature option, rather than a superhero pallet and pop art shading. 

Realisticness: 5/10

I’m going to ignore the fact they’re tiny, because obviously they’re supposed to be, and there’s only so much chocolate I can eat. They once again appear to have attempted making sexual organs cute, and pretty much succeeded. This makes it hard to eat them; it’s almost as bad as the poor little Lindt bunnies: if you can eat them without tearing up you’re a monster. 

Taste: 2/10

The chocolate was pretty average if a little too sweet, the popping candy not so much, unless you like eating fire.

Burniness: 10/10

The ability of this chocolate to give you second degree burns in your mouth is truly unsurpassed.

Overall I would say: don’t buy. If you want chocolate, go buy a bar of galaxy for half the price, and if you insist on chocolate with popping candy in, buy a popping candy terry’s chocolate orange (heaven in a foil wrapper). However it would make for an amusing gift, for someone you don’t like very much, get them to open it in front of their parents. Give them an earnest look and say in a worried voice “these are the ones you asked for right”?

On a completely unrelated note, can someone confirm this article is joking for me?

Todostrieb

Candy Says

Ahhh popping candy... Who can resist the innocent temptation? This week we’re reviewing Ann Summers sweets and the Sizzling body candy was entrusted lovingly into my tender care. Unfortunately all images of fizzing sugary bits and childhood chocolates have now been ruined, but corruption is fun, yes? We homojournalists are all about pushing boundaries (by which we mean pulling at handcuffs) and destroying the pure (by which we mean dragging Rory into Ann Summers to watch the cute awkward look on his face).

Omnomnom sorry for rubbish quality, will use a real camera instead of webcam tomorrow.

My first thought when testing this out, as always with popping candy, was something along the lines of ‘Oh God, there’s been a horrible mistake, I've put loads of fire ants into my mouth’. Which, let’s be honest might distract from your less than innocent intentions. The sugary flavour (it’s supposed to be strawberry but really it just tastes like sugar) soon alleviates that annoying part of my brain so my overall feeling was not one of horror....more amusement. Can sweets amuse you? Yes....especially if this popping candy is used in the bedroom like it’s supposed to be.

After this mild panic, I realised I had not followed the instructions properly...perhaps this was the cause of the fire ant fiasco. Luckily Eli was to hand. Or rather, Eli’s hand was to hand. Before she realised what was happening (poor love) I licked her hand and tipped popping candy all over it. Following the instructions like a good little girl I quickly licked it off. It was fun....but rather....well sticky. As we all know, sex is messy and good sex is messier....but pinkish sugary patches on your skin can’t really be that comfortable can they? I think I read somewhere that sugar is an abrasive too, so no putting this candy near your doodahs and wotsits....

Look at all those microscopic sharp bits. Ouch. 

So...to conclude my review, Sizzling body candy not for me. I got over the weird ‘my tongue is melting’ sensations and the stickiness. However, I was left with this undeniable feeling that there was something impractical about this game/sweet. Then it hit me....returning to tinkerbell from my last post. There’s no way to get this candy on your partners body without looking like a grade A pillock or tinkerbell copycat. You have a few options:

1. Spend 10 minutes attacking the impossible to open sachets with your teeth
2. Sprinkle like you’re Peter Pan and only Wendy can get you to Neverland
3. Look creepily prepared with a pre opened pack
4. Take them by surprise...let the chips fall where they may and hope you don’t blind someone

You see my problem. But, hey, whatever floats your boat.I give this product a tentative 4 boobs out of a possible 10. 

Lots of love Mel

xxx

PS//

You may find some of the instructions entertaining...I won't repeat them here for the sake of the innocents amongst us (granted they may be few and far between). But, as a taster, here are the titles of the 6 games you are supposed to play with the sizzling body candy. Use your over reactive imaginations.

• X and O's
• Spell it out
• Treasure trail
• Tongue teasers
• Naughty Talk
• Guess where

I would like to propose another game called 'how many Ann Summers bags can Mel keep in her room before her mum says something'. 

Goodbye for real this time, with all the love my cold dead heart has to offer.

We can only hope the Jelly Shots don't get hold of the Whip...

This week, us Homojournalist will be reviewing sweets from Ann Summers. I'm not entirely sure why we're doing this, or how it came about, but if I can say anything about the experience, I can say it's been... interesting. Also, I'm writing the Sunday post this week. It'll be a description of all the strange and unusual things we did while procuring our erotic sweeties.

It will be a long post.

I apologise on behalf of the Homojournal to anyone in Westfield who was traumatised by our presence. 

But, I digress - Ann Summers sweets. Being the more cuisine oriented Homojournalist (as well as the greediest), I chose to review two items instead of one: a Liquorice Whip and Lickable Jelly Shots.

As expected, as liquorice the Liquorice Whip is exemplary. What I didn't expect was that it also excels as a whip. 

No images exist of the whip before I ate half of it. I like liquorice.

At 36 inches (before you eat it), it's a perfect length to really get some speed going before impact. I found this out when trying the whip out on my bedroom door. I fully expected the whip to be floppy and ineffective, but it most certainly wasn't. I marked the door-frame for sanity's sake:

I'm not gonna lie; I found this disconcerting.

However, while it was fun wreaking sugary vengeance on the door that had stubbed my toe so many times, I also learned that the packaging of this whip is seriously deficient on safety warnings, warnings such as "WARNING: PRODUCT MAY STAIN." and "WARNING: PRODUCT WILL BLOODY HURT IF YOU ACCIDENTALLY HIT YOURSELF IN THE SHIN WHILE BEATING A DOOR.". Further confirmation of the sadistic possibilities of this sweet and terrifying piece of liquorice was found when a friend of mine came round to borrow some money. While handing over the money, I casually mentioned that I was reviewing the whip, and he asked to see it. Like me, he was very impressed by the imposing look of the whip. Unlike me, he wanted it tested on him, and, being a good friend, I did. He seemed to enjoy it, so I suppose that's good.

All in all, the Liquorice Whip is a success. It tastes nice, smells nice and causes pain, and I'm struggling to think of anything else that does all that short of throwing chocolate at your lovers head: 9/10.

The Lickable Jelly Shots, however, are another matter. 

And they looked so inviting, as well.

The idea behind these little pots of jelly is that you rub/lick them all over your significant other's body, and so the flavour and smell is important. The smell is fine.

The flavour? Less so. While trying to delicately craft the flavours of "Brandy", "Red Wine", "Slow Comfortable Screw" and "Sex on the Beach", they seem to have instead settled for a blanket flavour of "Slightly Perfumed Rubber". It's not offensive, per se, but it's not erotic either. And then we have the texture. Here's a photo of the Red Wine Shot after 3 seconds of poking it:

The same effect can be produced by giving a toddler some jam.

Conversely, here's the Sex on the Beach shot after I hit it with the Liquorice Whip:

This stuff should be used as armour by the Army.

As you can see, the consistencies are less than consistent, leaving the possibility of your lover dying of trauma just because they happened to like Sex on the Beach and you tried to massage them with the cranberry, peach and orange flavoured hockey puck that you happen to have to hand. Even that aside, this stuff is still the same texture as congealed raspberry jam, and on the Top 40 list of Least Sexy Words, "congealed" is definitely in the top 10.

But the one thing that I just can't get past is the look of the things:

*wibble*

Look at it. It looks like a humorous and cute video game enemy, not an erotic massage gel. It looks like it divides by mitosis to reproduce.

Post-cytokinesis Jelly Shots. 

If I were to be presented with one of these, I'd keep it in a hutch and call it Gerald, not smear it all over my lovers body. It'd be like whipping them with a kitten: a fundamental misunderstanding of the purpose of the item. They're just too cute to be sexy.

Oh, look. It divided again.

As a sexual item, these jellies get a measly 3/10. As a cute little pet for the children, they get a solid 10/10. They're cute, they wobble, and they smell much nicer than a cat. The only issue I can foresee is if they gain sentience.

WE ARE LEGION.

As always, we're available for contact at homojournal@gmail.com for complaints, praise and solicitations.

Until next time, Constant Reader,

James.

Words cannot describe the look of confusion on my Dad's face when, after he asked what the jellies on the plate were for, I replied "smearing over your lover's body, then licking it off seductively". I put my parents through so much.