Rivotril, Chicken Feed, Unmasking Lucifer, Fall/Winter Bank Account Drainage

Rivotri Wrecked My Day

I wrecked my Thursday night schedule thanks to Rivotril (Clonazepam). I was supposed to be in the midst of my beauty sleep yesterday considering I got up at 12:30AM on Wednesday. It was almost 5PM yesterday that I had 3 hours to go for a mini dinner party, and less than 6 hours for that Fluxe It party which is at 11PM.

I decided to take a one or two hour nap at 5:30, asking our maid to wake me up at 7.

Guess what time I got up? 4 hours ago. 1:30AM on a Friday morning.

I missed everything I needed to do yesterday. Pfft.

Gone are the days where I'm fuelled my amphetamines and can stay up to 4 days awake. These days, I have the strength of a 67 year old widow with no penny in her name. I have the same body clock as a clientless whore. Anyway, enough money, land titles, deeds and property talk. Let's move onto to some stuff that I need to purge.

Chicken Feed Galore

During my attempt to go to my coffin and catch up with some sleep earlier, I saw something on HBO with Mandy Moore in it. I know, it's one of my guilty pleasures - teeny bopper flicks. I watched How to Deal.

There was a scene there where this guy was shopping for Halmark cards to give to one of the ugly girls there. When I saw that scene, I wanted to run to the drugstore and get overdosed on Prozac.

Why the fuck aren't there any guys giving me Halmark cards?

I mean, the last time I got one was probably around 2001. Oh yes. Back in the dark ages.

On that note, I've decided to open up a PO BOX.

Later today, I'm going to the post office, open up a PO BOX address and publish it on the world wide web so random strangers, including dirty old hairy EuroTrash perverts, to send me Halmark cards.

I'm THAT desperate you bitches. Single, lonely, fat brown bitch here seeks love.

I need love. Serious love.

And love sometimes comes in teeny paper envelopes with cards in them.

Or these Guiseppe Zanotti boots. Luisa Via Roma didn't have them in my size. Size 39 is their largest. What's that in American Women's? I'm a size 9/10 women's or 7.5/8 in men's. American. So in Dior I buy size 40.

I love these boots cause they're not that feminine and I can conceal them with jeans, giving me a couple of extra inches of height.

Unmasking Lucifer: Talbots Queen in Exile

Meet Mauricio M. L_ _ _ _ _ of insert-espanola-sounding-town-here, Mexico.

I met this guy not too long ago after they've been discussing yours truly at the HintMag message boards. You think I'm a bitch? Wait till ya see the poofs there. They've been busting and crunching each other's balls out with Judith Leiber Minaudieres and Goyard customized jewelry boxes.

He's the quintessential Instant Messenger whore/stalkerette. As soon as he sees me online on MSN, his royal highness of Mexican fabulosity instant messages me with talk about clothes and fashion. He won't even give me time to purge, or to eat, or to, pee, or whatever! He's the perfect MSN buddy if you're into endless, amphetamine-fuelled chats.

I somewhat have a grudge against him cause yesterday he mentioned the B-word to me. No, it's not bitch. No it's not bollocks nor it's Boucheron, Bvlgari or Bebe. Instead, he said "BURGER".

You see, whenever I hear that word, my heartbeat goes into a full stop, causing friction in my 2 brain cells, elliciting an instant craving for a Big Mac. Oh yes -- when you're with me, you simply, simply, simply, do not mention that word, or else I'd get our fat asses into the nearest McD's to satisfy my craving. Bs are fun though, but only after a good night out. Instant calorification after a serious night's worth of serotonin drainage.

He also refers to himself as a bitch. Oh yes. To quote him:

"I also admit to being hated by some, loved by less, feared by most".

But I digress. I, Bryanboy, have the upper hand on him. He has this thing about his personal information and don't you just love blackmail?

And when there's blackmail, there's bribery.

He offered a virtual spot on the Birkin waiting list (I've got my eyes on a bright yellow Togo leather Birkin) and a "fucking ostrich skin birkin" whereas I refused that point blank. Instead, I crowned him Queen of the Talbots.

"I AM TALBOTS! HEAR ME ROAR!"

Sounds familiar, Mauricio? That's alright.

As you have said, tell everyone I wear St. John. Tell everyone I have a sexually transmitted disease. Tell everyone I have the ebola virus.

Just don't tell anyone I wear Zoran.

Nah... loves you already sweetheart. You're a doll!

You can jack off to more of Mauricio here. Enjoy!

Fall/Winter Bank Account Drainage

Fall/Winter is that time of the year where you have to watch out your spending habits because that's when all the exotics come out of mother nature and goes to the shop shelves. The furs, the coats, the handbags, the accessories -- all exotics. I love animals and there's no other way to express your love for animals is by collecting them, wearing them and storing them in the closet.

Skip the taxidermist bitches. I'm not a rural American person with a deer, donkey or a cow head on the wall.

I'm creaming my pants over these. These 3 items are calling my name. I'm just giving myself a few days to let it sink in so I won't have buyer's remorse like my LV mink bag. Ugh!

Dior. Yes. Good ol' Dior. Gorgeous boots. US$1,825 at NeimanMarcus.com.

And then Cavalli. Jacket is 3,107 Euros, Coat is 5,590 Euros, both at Luisa Via Roma. Oh god. They both scream orgasm to me.

I'm leaning towards buying the coat. I think it's very me and I can pair it off with anything, aka jeans + tank top or t-shirt + handbag. The jacket seems to be erm, I dunno. Too dramatic.

I'm still shopping around for coats for my little Winter trip to Russia. But for now, those 2 items are on my "to buy list" if I don't see any other ones that I like.

(BTW, I still need a travel buddy/ies later this year. You pay for the airfare and your own expenses, I'll pay for mine and the hotel room. November 14 - December 7, 2005. Russia + side trip to Eastern Europe galore). I think it will be fun!

P.S. Bryanboy loves people who go to Yale, people from Singapore, people who use Comcast as their internet service provider, people from San Diego, CA and students from Berkeley.

Identify yourselves Maggots by posting a comment on my blog!

P.P.S.S. I've got something cooking these days and I'm meeting someone later this afternoon. Get your fingers crossed, pray to the good lord almighty and stock up on bottles of Brut or Drakkar Noir. It might be something major. Who knows.

Baboosh!