I'm a Dog and I like socks

Firstly, may I apologise for not gracing you all with my presence last Friday; I'd been incredibly busy sorting out assignments and organising house viewings and writing music for projects I'm involved in at Uni, by the time it was Friday I hadn't actually realised that it was Friday. Does that make sense? No, probably not. Anyway, by way of apology, here are some sock-loving dogs for your entertainment.

Ah, if only all dogs were like that... mine would rather eat the sock you throw for him rather than bring it back to be thrown again...

I'm probably going to sound like a stuck record when I say my knowledge and/or experience of sex is limited (I'm very aware of how depressing that is, given I'm now in Term 2 of Uni and am 19 and still haven't gotten laid). So I feel my post is probably going to be another one of those rambly ones where I don't know what to say because I can't bust the classic gay sex myth "anal sex hurts like a bitch (or bastard, depending on your preference)" - once I discover the degree of fact in that statement, I'll be sure to let you know. So rather than ramble,  my plan was to write a list of all the sex myths that I really hoped were myths, but in a cruel and depressing twist of fate, this is where I fall down again.

I don't know any sex myths.

I really must research things more in the future.

Until next time, my dears,

I am, and always will be,

Very depressedly yours,

Rory.

PS - As you may be aware, February is LGBT history month, and to celebrate, we'd like to here from you. We're looking for some guest submissions on anything LGBT related; the topic of your post could range from coming out, to the debate on equal marriage, to the public perception and acceptance of the LGBT community. If you're interested, check out our submission guidelines, then write us an article and e-mail it to us!

Thank god I don't get hangovers.

The thing I like about weeks like this is that it gives me a perfect excuse to go to the pub and spend an insane amount of my student loan getting rat arsed and singing Do You Hear the People Sing and other out-of-tune selections from Les Misérables and various other west end and broadway (and some not) shows. It's much fun, and I definitely did not spend most of last night doing exactly that and drooling over pictures of Eddie Redmayne...

"Do you hear the church bells ring?"

Where was I?

Oh yeah, I have to write stuff about people and Homo-Journalists. This seems like an excellent plan and there is absolutely nothing at all that can possibly go wrong.

I promise.

1. Describe each of the Homo-Journalists in a few sentences.
Oh christ...

2. Say which LGBT issue you feel most strongly about and why.
Well, equal marriage has to be right up there... personally I prefer the term 'marriage' or 'human rights', but if calling it the fight for equal marriage means my wedding to Eddie Redmayne and Ben Whishaw is legal, then I'm willing to compromise.

Wait, I'm not allowed a polygamous marriage? Fucking hell, government, stop trying to tell me what to do.

3. Would you rather have a horse the size of a rabbit, or a rabbit the size of a horse? Explain your reasoning in no less than 200 words
I had a decent answer to this when I was sober... pretty sure it'll come back to me, gimme time. For now I'm just gonna say horse the size of a rabbit, cos it'd be kinda cute, I guess.

4. Summarise the entire LGBT world history in no more than 200 words.
Erm... God made Adam and Steve, the world was somehow populated with morons who persecuted and did horrible unspeakables to the descendants of Adam and Steve, then some people started rioting because they didn't like it and ever since then we've all gone to this thing called 'Pride' and dress in rainbows and drag and have lots of alcohol and sex. Jelly babies and Vodka?

5. Embarrassing confession?
I don't think I've got any clean pants for tomorrow :(

6. Weirdest dream?
I had a really weird dream once after having eaten some cheese which my friends gave me for christmas... I'd been taken captive by some woman and put through a series of gruelling and life threatening tests. I survived, then I had to watch someone else do it and they went up the wrong staircase and 'died'... apparently going up that staircase is what forced the woman to become a transvestite and that it twisted her mind so much that she wanted the world to exist only of people who could pass this test and if they failed they'd get converted like she was... It was horrible, I'd rather not think about it.

Come to think of it, I think we'd had a Rocky Horror Picture Show night the day before and I saw far too many of my guy friends in drag and corsets, that might have something to do with it....

7. Would you rather kill someone you love to end a war in a foreign country, or kill someone you hate and thereby start one?
Who thought up this question?! It's utterly morbid, I'd clearly do both.

8. Happiest moment you can think of? (this was actually supposed to be number 7, but I forgot about it so it can go here instead where the question before thiss should have gone... oh god why am I this drunk?)
I got an A+ on my first uni essay the other day... guess I was pretty chuffed at that.

9. Assign a Pokemon to each Homo-Journalist and jsutify it.
The only ones I know are Pickachu and Squirtle. So I'll let my esteemed colleagues argue over who can be who.

Pickachu and Squirtle are both Pokemon, right?

10. (HOW MANY MORE OF THESE DO I HAVE TO DO?! I NEED SLEEP!!!!!!!) If you could go back and change something about your life, what waould it be?
I dunno, maybe I'd have done more piano and bassoon practice? Started the bassoon earlier? Probably something like that. These questions are far too deep and philosophoical for me to be answering at this level of intoxiacation.

11. If you were stuck on a desert island with a book and a person and film, which would you take?
Can I choose the island I'm stranded on too? Pretty sure there's one somewhere that's full of hot guys, I'll go there please. And I'll take Ben Whishaw or Eddie Redmayne with me (can I take them both and sacrifice the film or book?). I have lost all memory of books I've read besides the Harry Potter series, so I'll take one of those at random, and for the film, I'll take my netflix subsription. Lots of films there.

12. Who, other than your significant other, would we have to give to you for sexy-times in order for you to give us all your moneys?
As he mentioned on that day that starts the week off that he psots on, James knows the true answer to this question, but I'll just say Ben Whishaw or Eddie Redmayne. omnomnomnom.

13. Since I don't have to answer this questiona nd everybody else does, who would you rather 'have'/'do'/etc - Justin Bieber or One Direction?
Not gonna lie, however I answer this will make me sound like a peedo (I can't spell it right now, soz), so let's just go for one direction becuase there's more of them.

Who was the 'I' in teh question? I have a feeling it was me, actually... :/ oh well.

14. Biggest regret/worst thing you've done while drunk?
Apparently I harassed my friend's girlfriend about her fringe once, without knowing what the word for fringe was... I have no recollection of this incident and neither does my friend's girlfriend, so I'm just assuming that it never happened at the world is a massive lie.

(I'm not actually sure if my friend and her girlfriend are even girlfriend and girlfriend, or ever have been, if either of you are reading this, I'm sorry :/ )

Yours drunkenly and inocherenetly,
Rory

PS - I didn't get progressively more drunk here as my poor spelling and typing might suggest (if anything I'm more sober now that I was when I started, but not by much), I just gave up caring about that inconvenience we call grammar.

PPS - we should do more of htese, they're strangely fun. Next time, I'll write mine in the pub, not afterwards in my room at some unearhtly hour of the morning.

PPPS - Can you have this many 'post's in a post script?

PPPPS - As a disclaimer, I'd like to point out that the oipininos and views and stuff in this post shouldn't be taken seriously as most of it is actually the alcohol talking. (I'm actually a really nice person.)

PPPPPS - someone stop me now.

Back off bitches, he's mine.

As I sit here, on the wrong day, writing this at short notice with a totally empty stomach and fridge, no effort to go and cook something or do the thirty second walk to the on-campus shop that doesn't sell Terry's Chocolate Oranges (shock horror) and listening to Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue in preparation for my assignment due next week, I wonder what it is I can say about LGBT celebrities that James and Mel haven't yet covered.

With the deadline to post this on time looming, all I can think of is that I don't really give a damn which celeb bats for which team. I admire their courage - being in the public eye must be difficult enough without having the press throw your private life about the world like a cat with a dead mouse. I don't particularly understand why some celeb coming out on TV or in an interview should be news though; while a lot of straight women would clearly cry their eyes out and a lot of gay men would breath a sigh of joy if someone like Ben Whishaw did come out as gay (even if he isn't, he's still mine, so back off the lot of you, he's all mine. I will hurt kittens), I stand by my opinion of having to come out: it's not news, regardless of who and what you are professionally or how famous you are.

Having said all this, the other half of my brain spends a fair amount of time fantasising about which famous fella I'd get with when I'm a famous film composer... these are just a few examples:

Ben Whishaw (actual sexuality totally irrelevant)

Fucking marry me already.

Russell Tovey (He grew up in the town next to the one I did, I have more right to him than any of you)

I can live with the ears.

Joseph Gordon-Levitt (again, sexuality irrelevant)

Seriously, get in my bed.

James McAvoy (Anything for a scot.)

I don't care about the fact he's married with kids. 

I could continue this list, but I'm hungry and do technically have some work to do... so excuse me while I go and stalk my famous fellas eat food and do my work.

PS - I like to think that the reason Todostrieb didn't post yesterday is because she's too busy stalking her favourite LGBT celeb... Who knows, there's a chance this might actually be the case, so stop telling me otherwise! Eli claims she's ill, I'd like to believe this, in reality we all know she's having hot passionate sex with Prince Poppycock. 'Normal' service should hopefully resume next week.

I think I'll need all the help I can get.

What a year 2012 was. Sherlock returned to our TV screens and promptly departed again. The Doctor was tragically separated from the Ponds, and united with Soufflé Girl. I went to New York City and met Troy, saw Wicked, went up the Empire State Building and got up close and personal with Lady Liberty (sort of). I passed the IB better than I expected to, got into University, moved to a different country, got drunk more times than I care to remember, and still don't have a boyfriend. The Queen celebrated her Diamond Jubilee and looked on at all the countries she used to own at the Olympics. Wills and Kate are even expecting a child. Gay men married your girlfriends; gay women married your boyfriends. I got a job; Mitt Romney didn't. Homo-Journal was founded, and then we moved into Hogwarts. I even managed to get a four year old kid to shout "D.I.O" at my friend at the fireworks yesterday. So yeah, it's been a good year.

I think that calls for a party.

As with every New Year, people around the world sit down and decide to take their lives and give it a good shake up; they decide to quit smoking, or stop drinking, or lose weight. Some try their hardest to stop eating junk food, others spend their time cutting down the time they spend on social media or online games.

I keep telling everybody that I don't make New Year's Resolutions, but in reality I've spent the last nineteen years of my life making the same or similar ones over and over again: "I will get a boyfriend" replaced "I will come out" some moons ago.

I fear I will end this way too :(

So, in no particular order, here are my constant, unchanging, New Year's Resolutions, so that when I return to Embankment for the New Year's Fireworks in 2014, my friends can point and laugh at me for not having succeeded at any of them (again):

1. I will find a boyfriend.
2. I will lose weight.
3. I will not make any New Year's Resolutions.
4. I will not run up an £80 tab in the pub after two consecutive nights of student deals.
5. I will make considerable progress with Grade 8 Piano and Grade x Bassoon.
6. I will continue to not engage in any form of sport.
7. I will not run up another overdraft.
8. I will convince my mum that her buying me a car and paying for the insurance is the best idea ever.

Yours ambitiously,

Rory.

PS// This is being posted by Mel due to some very funny goings on and Todostrieb disappearing. Something to do with Bond/Q fanfiction probably. Or maybe I just think that's the answer to everything now?

New Year, Same Old Us

Hello again! To any new readers, welcome; to our returning ones, welcome back! We hope you all had a lovely Christmas (and if you don't celebrate Christmas, then we hope you enjoyed the bank holidays). After a break of almost 3 entire months while we settled in to University life, Homo-Journal is back, and with one or two big differences. 

The first, and most important is welcoming our new Homo-Journalist, Becky. Becky becomes our new Sunday Homo-Journalist - you'll get to meet her properly this time next week. We're all looking forward to working with her over the coming months, and we sincerely hope we don't drive her insane! 

The other difference is of course that we're redecorating. As the week progresses, you'll notice appearance changes, such as a new background, a new banner and different fonts. Hopefully you'll like our new look, but we'd be interested to hear what you have to say - leave a comment below or drop us an email at the usual place, homojournal@gmail.com. That's also the email you should use if you ever feel like writing us a guest article; there are some submission guidelines over on the page entitled "guest submissions". Incidentally, if there's a topic you'd like us to cover, or to revisit, simply contact us on our Facebook or twitter pages, or send us an email to the same address. 

The posting order hasn't changed, James will still be with you every Monday, Mel on Tuesday, Todostreib on Wednesday, Eli on Thursday, I'm back on Friday and Miu returns on Saturday, with Becky making her debut on Sunday, where we'll be discussing the age old tradition of New Year's resolutions!

All that remains is for me to wish you on behalf of everybody here at Homo-Journal every health and happiness and all the best for the New Year; let's hope it's a good'un!

Rory

So many gays!!

Like Mel, and rather unlike James, and Todostrieb, and Eli, and also Miu, I have finally started University. Despite not having met a single one of my flatmates properly (I think most of them are postgraduates - I'm getting the impression that postgrads turn their noses up and look down upon the undergrads in much the same way the sixth form turned their noses up and looked down upon the ickle year 7s with backpacks twice the size of their bodies), this place is officially brilliant. So many people on my course that I've met have also joined the LGBT society, which is also great - I couldn't help but notice that the LGBT society's stand was diagonally opposite the Catholic Society's stand at Fresher's Fayre, and at our LGBT picnic on Wednesday, we successfully kicked the Christian Union out of their marquee without actually telling them to leave.

I did actually have a very different sort of post planned for today which I wrote while in a depressed state of drunkeness, in which I sort of ramble about how I'm such an awkward turtle, and how I go somewhere, with the intention of uttering a word other than “Hello” to somebody I have never met before, and I just lurk at the back, too terrified to say even that. After not very long, I make myself busy (this usually consists of going to the toilet), and then I return to my lurking spot at the back of wherever, hoping that somebody nice will stumble upon me and start talking to me (and if at all possible, not the other way around).

When this does not happen, I begin to look around for someone who looks like an easy target to walk up to and introduce myself to; I see one guy about my age who looks like he might do, and so I set off, only to return straight away to my original position when I notice that he’s engaged himself in conversation with some chick who intercepted him on his way to the bar. I continue scanning the room for another lonely soul, and find nobody. Suddenly I get the impression that somebody’s watching me, and although I cannot for the life of me figure out who, I feel myself going bright red. It’s almost as if the person who may or may not be watching me thinks I’m a bit of a weirdo, all alone in the corner, Billy No-Mates, and I’m whisked back to Primary School break time, when I was Billy No-Mates, all alone in the corner. And so I leave.

Despite this being a regular scenario for me, I am determined not to let it get the better of me... the LGBT society are heading into Soho on Tuesday (which, by some happy coincidence, is my 19th Birthday), so before we leave, I must make sure to take advantage of the subsidised alcohol in the Student Bar to bury my inner introvert and let the extravert come out to play. 

That sounded creepy.... remind me never to say that again.

I have suddenly realised that I decided I didn't want to post that post, yet there it is, all two paragraphs of it... what I actually wanted to say (which was basically about how awesome University is, how many Doctor Who fans there actually are, how awesome the LGBT society is, how many members of said LGBT society are actually on my course) sort of drifted away into depressed drunkeness anyway...  This is because I am in a rush and writing this before going to meet a friend to watch some sort of film on some really uncomfortable lecture theatre seat before going to the local pub and getting absolutely rat-arsed. 

Hey ho.

I really wanna take my cats for a walk now....

And here we are. Again. A topic I have no experience in. I wanted 'most awkward situation being LGBT has put you in', I have plenty of those which I can talk about. Most of them include my family. In fact most awkward situations I've been in involve a family member of sorts. Like that time when we went to New York and my mum told the lady at the currency exchange that she wasn't a Virgin, but that we were flying with them...

Even though we're now two months on from 'Find Rory a Boyfriend Week', Colin Morgan still hasn't declared his undying love for me, which just goes to show that you should never let your friends find your boyfriend for you, because they'll be crap at it (although, James sneakily ended his post that week with a suggestion I am not going to refuse. Ever). As such, I thought that rather than give you all really unhelpful hints which are more likely to lose you your potential boyfriend/girlfriend than gain you one, I took it upon myself to do some research (read 'Google'): below are some links with tips which look like they might actually work. I have already memorised one or two of them and plan on using them at Uni, for which I leave.... tomorrow. I really should begin to pack.

So, we have:

• Cosmopolitan's 20 Fun, Fearless Ideas to Help You Meet A Man; although it's aimed at the straight females of the world, I'm sure with a bit of jiggery-pokery (technical term), you can adapt it to suit your needs perfectly. (Incidentally, there are one or two rather handsome men here, worth checking out even if you've already met the man of your dreams.)
• eHow's aptly named How to Meet a Nice Guy; avoid number 3 at all costs, and number 5 should only be considered if you're really, really desperate. Otherwise, go for it.
• Get-the-Guy's Top 10 Places to meet guys in London; as long as you're not arrested for loitering, this could be a good way forward too. Although, after having read number 8, I desperately want to try and take my cat for a walk through Hyde Park...

I wouldn't get very far.

Maybe we can come back to this theme in a couple of months time when I've got a boyfriend, I can share my wisdom better then.

Suicide is never the answer.

I was in the UK earlier this week; I spent a hell of a lot of this time on the public transport system in and around London, and unfortunately for me, and every other commuter going into Liverpool Street on Tuesday morning, this public transport system ground to a halt once again because somebody had been hit by a train. In the middle of the morning rush hour.

Tragic and sad though it is that anybody should ever feel driven to feel suicidal (and if you are, please go and seek some sort of professional help), I unfortunately have very little sympathy for people who think that the best 'way out' is being run over by the world's biggest bullet (more on the 'way out' in a moment). I have even less sympathy for those people who actually go through with it, and are prepared to a) traumatise the driver live for the rest of his or her life with the knowledge that he or she was driving the train which killed you and there was nothing he or she could have done apart from apply the emergency brake, by which time it's too late anyway, b) cause so much unnecessary disruption to people you've never even met, c) leave behind so much suffering for your friends and family (everybody has friends and family who care a great deal about you, some people just have funny ways of showing it), d) let the people on the platform who saw you jump live with that image for the rest of their lives and last but not least e) made such a terrible mess on our already filthy and disgusting train lines. Forgive me for being blunt, and perhaps a little insensitive, but I fail to understand how anybody, suicidal or not, can justify ruining other people's lives just because they've had enough of their own.

There are unfortunately many people who feel that the only light at the end of the tunnel is that of the on-coming train - and that suicide really is the best option. This is often, as I'm sure one of my esteemed colleagues will have pointed out by now, a result of either a mental illness or of bullying. Quite often, I imagine that both are connected in some way. In both cases, approaching somebody and asking for help is always the best way forward - although none of us are trained counsellors, if you find yourself in this situation, send us an e-mail and we'd be more than happy to point you towards some friendly, understanding people who are more than willing to help you.

With regard to 'the way out' - there isn't one. You can't just decide that because you're stressed, or because nobody likes you, or because you feel isolated killing yourself will be OK, because it won't. Granted, you won't be stressed, but think about how distressed those around you will be... and when you're six feet deep, you'll be more isolated then than you ever will be alive.

Let me say this again, in plain words that everybody can understand:

• SUICIDE
• IS
• NEVER
• AN 
• OPTION.

I don't think I can make it clearer than that. There are people who care about you, there always will be. Perhaps you haven't met them yet. But by taking your own life prematurely, you will never, ever meet that person who cares. Take it from these people, they've been to dark places nobody ever needs to go to, and have lived to tell the tale - and a happy life.

I know I've linked to this song before, but it's brilliant, and well worth a listen. Twice.

I apologise if I've been uncharacteristically blunt and/or insensitive this week, I suppose I don't really approve of suicide in any form, and when I have opinions like this I find it unusually hard to express them both verbally and written...ly. I also realise that I seem to have chosen the rather more extreme example of throwing yourself in front of a train as the focus for most of this post; thankfully it doesn't happen all too often.

Hopefully next week's topic will be more cheerful, but we wouldn't be doing our duties properly if we didn't have some serious topics once in a blue moon.

So, Cameron got his new cabinet from IKEA...

You've probably all realised by now that David Cameron has had a reshuffle of his Cabinet. (If you hadn't noticed, come out of the hole you've been hiding in for the last week, you missed yesterday's Doctor Who.) Its sparked lots of debate over the government's transport policy and possible expansion of Heathrow. What it hasn't yet sparked, is a serious talk about what the clear shift to the right that this new cabinet clearly is means for the LGBT community. There are one or two things which don't bode well. 

Let's start with the positives. Openly gay Lib Dem MP David Laws is back in government; he resigned as Chief Secretary to the Treasury after just 17 days in the post after it emerged he'd been claiming for his boyfriend's house on expenses. This time, he's not in the treasury, but is a Schools Minister, which should be good for trying to beat homophobic and transphobic bullying in schools. He can also keep our 'right honourable' Education Secretary Michael Gove in check, make sure he's not doing anything too stupid with our schools. Sadly, Gove didn't lose his job in the reshuffle. Maybe Cameron's logic is that we're a lost generation anyway, so if Gove absolutely has to be in the cabinet, then at the top of the Department for Education, where he can't do any real damage...

After this point, I'm having trouble thinking about the positives about the reshuffle which concern the gay community, I really am. You see, when you discover that Chris Grayling, the former Shadow Home Secretary who lost out on a cabinet job last time round because he said that Christian b&b owners should be able to deny gay couples a room on grounds of their sexuality, has become Justice Secretary, you really begin to question the sanity of the big cheese in No. 10. A homophobic, non-lawyer Justice Secretary, who'd have thought? Oh, and when I said non-lawyer, did I mention he's the first non-lawyer Justice Secretary since the Tudor times?

However, Good Sirs and Gentle Ladies, my biggest worry on what this new cabinet means for the LGBTQ community is this: allow me to introduce you to your new Equalities Minister, Maria Miller. In the past, she has voted:

• Against Gay rights, including adoption. 
• Against a bill which I forget the name of, under which lesbian couples would have been able to undergo fertility treatment. 
• Against the religious and racial hatred bill
• In favour of defining the terms "homophobia", "racial hatred" and "prejudice" as merely being somebody's 'Freedom of Speech'. 

And they're just the votes she took part in. 

Shocked? I am. Maybe I shouldn't be; after all, this is a Tory led government, but I had hoped that Britain would be taking a step forward towards equality for all, not backwards, as Miller's appointment seems to indicate. They certainly seemed to be doing that; David Cameron has announced his support for marriage equality, and a public consultation on the issue went out, the results of which are to be published soon...ish. Hopefully we're still going ahead with getting equal marriage (or, as some people like to call it, gay marriage) by the end of parliament in 2015, despite this questionable appointment to the Equality office.

I think Cameron has certainly made a few mistakes in his reshuffle; certainly the appointment of Maria Miller as Equalities Minister is something which will linger in the minds of minority communities, such as the LGBTQ one, when we get to the election in 2015, regardless of any possible future reshuffles in which the equalities brief may go elsewhere. Clearly it'll be a while before we see how well Miller does her job; I for one will be keeping a close eye on how well she is or isn't doing, and she and the government would be well advised not to underestimate the importance of continuing to move towards greater equality and doing more towards eliminating homophobia and transphobia in schools and in the workplace, and in our society in general (yes, I know the Equalities Act 2010 forbids discrimination on grounds of sexuality or gender identity, by no stretch of the imagination should we assume that it's been eradicated completely).

Let's get one thing straight.

I'm not. I never have been. And I never will be*.

Science is beginning to suggest that sexual orientation, or sexuality, or sexual preference, or whatever the hell you want to call it, is at least partly genetic. In other words, it's something you're born with, not something you develop, or catch, or decide upon. It certainly isn't the work of the devil, or of God, and anybody who tries to suggest otherwise needs their head examining pronto. In case you hadn't yet realised what I'm on about, weather you like cock, tits, both or neither, it's all completely natural.

Which is why things like this piss me off big time.

I understand that people who are coming to terms with their sexuality can find it a very daunting process, and may initially be 'weirded out' by the prospect of having sex with someone of the same gender (although, if that's the case, then you're probably not gay anyway), and certainly are cautious as to your family's reaction. And I can definitely understand why you would consider trying to become straight to please your family - when I was coming out, I remember trying to picture a life in which I had a wife and later kids. In each scenario I thought of, there was a different wife, and in each and every scenario, it all ended unhappily because I preferred cock over tits.

This doesn't mean that I dreamt of every single possible scenario; far from it - I don't believe that I am 100% gay, in the same way that Miu claims she's not 100% straight. I don't know if there's a girl out there who might actually succeed in making me question my homosexuality - if such a girl exists, she probably wouldn't succeed in making me believe I'm straight, because I just don't think anybody is completely straight. I think I'm going off topic here.

If someone thinks they're gay and they don't want to be, then it is for them and only them to find this out. Therapists and anti-gay organisations and religious groups and homophobes have no right to meddle with someone's personal life, and I don't care if they claim they're doing it to 'help', because quite often it doesn't help and only serves to confuse people more. I mentioned in my coming out post that I saw a counsellor when I was coming out; she did not try to indoctrinate me into being one or the other, she did not force me to believe anything, and she certainly did not approach me claiming she had all the answers. I spoke to her, and she listened, and she was a great help, and I'm waffling.

I don't even know what I've said any more, I've written whole paragraphs and deleted them before they were finished because it was a load of bullshit. Maybe next week will see me be a little more coherent.

I can spell just as well as I can dig holes for myself.

I would like to point out to darling James that I do know there is no 'r' in the word 'Celibacy'. Your evil schemes to make the world think I cannot spell have been foiled *evil laugh*.

You see, this is how we chose each week's theme: We have what we call a theme ideas 'pool', in which we all dump our randomly absurd ideas for themes and then one day, one of us (usually me) comes along and picks three or four of these randomly absurd ideas at random and copy and pastes them into a poll, and then we take it to a vote (because we're a democracy like that) and whichever theme has the most votes wins.

The cause of the misspelling of the word 'Celibacy' was the fact that it was already misspelt in our pool. (I realise the irony here of me asking if misspelt is actually spelled with '-lt' or with '-led', but I'm beyond caring now. Perhaps James' evil plan isn't as foiled as I'd hoped...) I just wanted this known.

I also would like to point out that I realise I'm posting this a day early; it seems eli has become celibate with regard to posting, regarding catching up on sleep/getting rid of post-Japan-jet-lag as being more important than this blog.

To be fair, I don't really blame her.

When it comes to celibacy, it seems that once again this is a topic which I have very little experience in, and therefore have very little to talk about (hence why it took 3 paragraphs to point out my spelling capabilities). I often imagine that being celibate must surely depend on the quality of sex and the quality of whatever it is you've given up sex for... I think even James would have no problems giving up dull and boring sex for either a high quality energy drink, alcoholic drink or whatever the third one was. Not that I'm saying James has dull and boring sex or low quality energy drinks or alcohol, mind you. I think it's time I stop digging.... :/

Apart from most Lindt produce, I haven't yet come across anything I would willingly give up sex for; there are plenty of other things which I could be doing with my time to satisfy my needs, such as dream up some absurd conspiracy theory as to how Sherlock survived jumping from the top of Barts hospital, or fanboying over series 7 of Doctor Who (Saturday 7.20 pm, BBC1, be there or else).

He who dares point out that I need to have a sex life to give up in the first place will [insert very threatening threat here].

I don't know what to say....

And as such, this post will join my other posts which consist of nothing but bullshit and waffle.

The contents of this post.

In a way, I'm glad that Eli has already defined the terms 'dogging', 'cruising' and 'cottaging', because this a) saves me from having to compromise my browsing history, 2) saves me from having to do the same but in a much more confusing manner and thirdly, has told me what these terms mean, although I think I covered this reason in point i). I am also silently cursing her, because I have even less of a clue as to what to write about this week as I thought I would, save from comment on the borderline dogging which occurred in Las Vegas with a certain grandson of the Queen.

When I heard about said grandson's antics in Vegas, aside from wondering what he was doing in Vegas and not in Wales or the Falkland being brave and flying mountain rescue helicopters (or is that William? I can never remember...) I instantly decided that this would be the topic of my post this week, because I said to myself enough times that I actually began believing it that the person who took those photos was dogging... and then I began to realise that dogging is the act of watching other people have sex, most of the time outside, and that the published photos display neither sex nor the hotel exterior, then it failed to qualify.

And so I had nothing to talk about.

Even my friend couldn't suggest what to talk about, aside from talking about gay composers like Michael Tippet or Benjamin Britten or Aaron Copland; a suggestion he quickly retracted when I pointed out that 1) that's got nothing to do with dogging/cruising/cottaging, and b), if I wanted to talk about gay composers, I could just as easily talk about myself, in which case nobody would give a flying fuck anyway.

I think it's for the best that I just don't say much more apart from my opinion.... don't do dogging (is that even grammatically correct?!), because you can watch porn and filter out all the crappy videos you don't like without having to leave your house/room/bed. Don't do cottaging - I find relieving myself in public toilets unhygienic enough; the thought of having sex with a stranger who may possibly be just as hygienic as the cubicle wall he's pressing me up against is simply grotesque. And lastly, don't do cruising (unless it's around the Mediterranean or Caribbean on a boat) because if you get a serial cruiser, then you have no idea where the parts he's putting in you have been before.

The only remaining acceptable alternative to cruising.

So Long and Thanks for all the Fish.

No, I'm not leaving you, have no fear. I just wish to relay the message we received on our answer machine from Mel, Todostrieb and Eli's alien abductors.

We're speaking to the Martian embassy and are negotiating their safe return. Or not.

Now to the topic at hand: aliens (how ironic). And to make James happy, I'll talk about all those famous gay aliens, like Captain Jack Harkness out of Torchwood, or.... actually, he's the only one I can think of, unless E.T. turned out to be gay too? I'm sure there are more, there must be a gay Dalek or two roaming the cosmos somewhere, and I'm convinced that all Cybermen are gay too, because even they must have some sort of excitement in their otherwise mechanical lives, and it's not as if there are any Cyberwomen around.

Ef-fem-in-ate! You will be Ef-fem-in-at-ed!!

Actually, after a quick Google Image search for 'Cyberwomen', I'm reminded that Ianto-from-Torchwood's ex-girlfriend was turned into a Cyberwoman by him, I can't remember the whys and wherefores, but it was a sight to behold nonetheless:

Hardly surprising that all Cybermen are gay, then....

For those who are genuinely interested in extra-terrestrials of the homo-/bisexual variety, you might consider watching a German film called Traumschiff Surprise, which is a parody of Star Trek and is one of those laugh-your-cock off films in which everybody acts stereotypically gay. I'm not sure if it's been translated into English, so you'd all better get your Phrase Book ready.

And while we're on the topic of Star Trek, I'm told it's good viewing for those who like seeing men in very tight fitting outfits.

Welcome to Hogwarts.

When Mel suggested this week's theme, the actual words that passed her lips were in fact "design your own Homo-Journal palace." Although it may not technically be a palace, my first and only thought to this topic was Hogwarts, just redesigned to suit all our needs: with one or two or twenty personal sex rooms for each of us to accommodate whomsoever we bring back from Hogsmeade.  

Hogsmeade: The nation's newest gay village for wizards, complete with pub and 'sweet' shop.

Let me take you on a guided floor-by-floor guide (audio guide available in various languages on request from some half-decent information kiosks). 

The Dungeons 

Despite their menacing name, the dungeons play an important role in the day-to-day running of Homo-warts palace, since it houses the sleeping quarters for all our personal staff; the cooks, the caretakers, the chauffeurs, the security guards, the technicians, the gardeners and the butlers and all other house-elves. Don't get lost in the dungeons, the deeper you go the more haunted they get. Only venture past the second level of the dungeons with at least two other people, and do be careful of our Basilisk, sometimes it petrifies people.... 

Ground floor 

The first thing you see when you enter Homo-warts is the magnificent marble-lined-with-gold-and-the-bones-of-the-victims-of-Mel's-unsuccessful-scientific-test staircase (please note, we renovated a few years back, staircase may not contain actual bones). Behind it you will find the glass elevator straight out of Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory, which will take you to anywhere you want it to take you, when it decides to work.... I'm not convinced it survived crashing through the roof of the Factory, but maybe I'm just not reading the instructions properly. 

Just a small dining room, then....

As you follow the entrance hall round to the left, the first door on the right leads into the Great Hall, where my esteemed colleagues and I lord over our guests during dinner. The first door on the left of the entrance hall leads into our party room, complete with functioning bar (alcohol included), pool table and dance floor. The second and final door on the left of the entrance hall leads into the ground floor bathroom, which in turn leads into our Sauna and Pool area. 

Literally the best swimming pool EVER.

First Floor 

The first floor consists of two wings: east and west. James lives in the west wing (he'd get no sunlight if he lived in the east) and out of all of us, has the shortest path to take when he wants to go and raid the fridge at night, because the Kitchen is directly underneath the West Wing on the Ground Floor. There are a number of disused broom cupboards in the West Wing, many of which no doubt once housed clones of Ezra Miller. Notice the difference in decoration as you pass through the West Wing, in comparison to the decoration of the rest of the palace - no where else will you find a shrine to the notorious Mr Miller, Tom Daley and Irene Adler which spouts Vodka 24/7.  

The east wing comprises of nothing more or less than James's torture chambers, and guests are advised to steer clear of the east wing during and outside of business hours.  

Second Floor 

In the south wing of the second floor lie Rory's chambers, complete with Grand Piano, Four-Poster bed, clones of the Tenth Doctor, Moriarty, Johnlock, and Merlin (not my cat). Within my chambers I have access to every single musical instrument which has ever graced the earth with its presence, and a complete recording studio in which to record them all. It is in here where I spend my time composing and blogging about my compositions.  

The East Wing has a full-size functioning theatre, for use by amateur and professional theatre companies alike, who perform exclusively for us any play we desire. It can also double as a cinema, I'm told it's the only one in the country that gets the finished film before it's been made. Every so often we're kind enough to let the villagers of Hogsmeade watch too, at but a small price.  

Our library begins on the second floor in the north and west wings, and spans eighteen floors.  

While you're passing through the second floor, it is worth visiting the corridor in which stands a scale map of Gallifrey, which was presented as a parting gift to the Homo-Journalists by none other than the Doctor himself. It is a long story which we will no doubt come back to in due course. It stands at the point where he began Regenerating into his twelfth body after - actually no, I won't say, spoilers.  

Unfortunately, the map doesn't tell me how to get there....

Third floor 

This floor used to belong to Eli, but since she moved in with Mel a few months back, it is now largely deserted, save for the library, which, incidentally, houses on this floor the erotic fiction for all sexualities.  

We currently have no plans to rent out the second floor, so don't even ask (unless you have news on season 3 of Sherlock, in which case, you may either email us, or send us an owl).  

Fourth floor 

This is Mel and Eli's floor, and anybody who values their life will be careful not to stray too far from the fourth floor landing, otherwise Mel might just snatch you for her experiments. She lives in the East Wing, which is heavily guarded by pink fluffy bunnies. Nobody quite knows exactly what is in Mel's rooms, because we've never been able to get any sense out of anybody who's come out of there. The north wing is strictly out of bounds to all but Mel's poor test subjects, as this is where her laboratory can be found.  

Mel's security guard, the vicious little bugger...

Eli lives in the south wing of the fourth floor, with interconnecting doors to Mel's room. Prince Poppycock also lives somewhere within, I'm told.... 

The library is only in the west wing of this floor after Mel burnt down the North wing when a chemical experiment went disastrously wrong.  

Fifth floor 

Todostrieb resides in the north wing on days when she's not taking care of the windmill which sits on the edges of Homo-warts grounds. Her estranged significant other hasn't been seen since he moved in, although he may have escaped to Hogsmeade when Todostrieb has been working at the mill. The gallery of all those eclectic items she has collected is certainly well worth a visit, and as long as you don't touch anything, there is a good chance you will survive the experience with your sanity still intact. It's worth noting that the lift doesn't stop in the gallery for security reasons; passengers requiring upward, downward, forward, leftward, backward or rightward services should flag the lift down from the fifth floor landing, although given its origin, you're probably quicker walking.  

We had to move the library to the west and south wings of this floor, incidentally, the south wing houses books on BDSM and the the west wing houses travel guides.  

Sixth floor 

The library takes up the North, South and West wings of the sixth floor, and houses general everyday non-fiction books. The East wing has large private chambers for our Guest slaves, who incidentally, have security clearance for most of the palace. If you would also like security clearance for Homo-warts, you may also wish to consider writing for us.  

The West Wing of the Sixth Floor Library. Pretty cool, huh?

Seventh floor 

The seventh floor is the final floor our grand nearly-marble staircase will take you. Miu lives in the North wing, right next to the Owlery which is located in the East wing.  The only thing which might threaten you up here is the odd rogue owl, or indeed the Howler which that rogue owl failed to deliver to its intended recipient. Other than that, the seventh floor is largely safe, as long as you don't stray into the animal and human hospitals which are both in the south wing. The library, in the west wing, houses all things animals on the seventh floor, before continuing towards the 18th floor, which has so little floor space you could barely swing a cat in it. Incidentally, there aren't many books on the 18th floor either, I'm not quite sure why it's there in the first place... 

We hope you've enjoyed your tour of Homo-warts palace, anybody who strayed off the tour path may be collected from the Lost and Found department on level -3 when Hell next freezes over.  

Fuck off out of my sex life, you nosy sods!

I probably don't need to point out that I have no sex-life for you to fuck out of, for reasons which should be obvious to anybody who has read through find Rory a Boyfriend week - namely, I don't have a boyfriend. Doesn't stop you from being nosy sods though...

I could spend this post pondering the definition of virginity, and at what point one actually loses it. Is it, as James suggests, dependant on what sort of sex you've had (or haven't had), or is it much more general in the sense that one immediately ceases to be a virgin once you've had any sort of sexual contact whatsoever? I'm sure someone will answer that question, but I'm not going to, because a) I'm no expert, b) I don't know, c) I have more important things to be doing with my time than wondering at which point you lose your virginity and d) even if I could answer it, it would be as boring as hell.

I could also spend this post giving you explicit details of my non-existent sex life, which of course I'm not going to, because that would mean a) I'd be lying to you, b) we value our readers and c) we'd have to turn on the 'this blog contains adult content' warning, and that requires effort which none of us have.

Having said all this, it occurs to me that some of it is all lies. I'm not going to deny having had sex; whether or not it counts as virginity-stealing sex is another matter, because I suppose sex is the wrong word to use in the first place. 'Fooling around' seems more accurate, because lets face it, when you're young and naive and innocent and are in the same room alone with one person who you happen to 'like-like' and you think there's a small chance that he 'like-likes' you back, one thing will inevitably lead to the other, and before you know it, you're fooling around with each other - literally.

Which brings me back to my first thought about when you actually pop your cherry, and I'm going to do what I originally said I wasn't going to do, and that's answer the question. For me, it depends on your outlook on life, and what you personally think and if you prefer to take James' interpretation of many virginities, or if you prefer the interpretation where you're either a virgin or you're not. Regardless of which interpretation I choose, I still consider myself a virgin because I haven't yet had a boyfriend with whom I have had sex, which I suppose was a mistake admitting on the internet on a blog which most of my friends are probably reading. No matter. Personally, I choose the latter, because that way I don't have to reveal details of my sex life to nosy buggers like you (yes, you over there, in the corner. Yes you. I'm talking to you too, you know).

You also don't have to ask the lady at the foreign currency exchange at Heathrow airport to define 'virgin' - you can simply declare you're not a virgin and that your child next to you is proof of that, but you are in fact flying with Virgin, an awkward and embarrassing true story involving my mother and I on our way out to New York.

Rory.

PS: I have no idea if this is actually what my esteemed colleagues had in mind when the topic 'Virginity' was suggested, but as eli rightly pointed out, for something so simple, it's damn fucking hard to talk about.

PPS: I should apologise for any expletives I may have used in this post, Mel's post inspired me to go and re-watch Bridget Jones and I find the use of language in both films rather fucking contagious.