Typical Sunday late nighter here. I’m bored and I’ve got nothing to do. Blondes such as myself have to use moments of loneliness to exercise our intellect. Thought I’d create some friction using my mere 2 brain cells and purge whatever is left in my head.
I also created a MySpace profile after being bombarded with requests. Add me if you love me. www.myspace.com/bryanboy.
(BRB – I gotta take a poo)
Back. Not a lot in there.
Say hi to my friends at the LunchBox. Apparently, I’m the talk of the town where people with eating disorders gather around in a circle and purge their soggy biscuits in a synchronized orgy. Some bimbo pretended to buy an LV bag and used my photos on there. One of the members had impressive 007 skills and found her way to my blog. Hilarious.
Click here for the discussion thread. Registration required to read the spectacle. I love fat fans. These bitches are lucky. For years I’ve *forced* myself to develop an eating disorder but I simply can’t resist food. One day when I lose my anorexic-wannabe figure, you’ll find me in that place.
Thought I’d mention, my fat ass just finished an entire bowl of microwaved pasta and a can of coke. Insomniac/drug addict food. I really should switch to rabbit food soon. Less calories, less trips to the magic white bowl that flushes.
I’m off to see my doctor later this morning. I stopped taking my bronchitis meds cause they gave me palpitations. Even 2 grams of cocaine don’t do me shit as far as I remember. But these meds, I’m telling you, it feels like as if I’ve got some tribal drumbeaters shoved deep in my chest.
I haven’t stopped smoking. I’ve cut back though. Down to half a pack per day. Except on weekends. Hah. In fact, I haven’t smoked a cigarette from 2PM on Saturday until I got up yesterday.
Speaking of vices, I thought I’d share an old story from the Bryanboy Life Archives. I still haven’t disposed these cock drugs so if you know anyone whose got a problem getting their pecker up, let me know.
A few months ago, while hopping from one drugstore to another to get Seroxat & Xanax to no avail (it’s pretty much out of stock everywhere. too many insane people in this city I guess), I came across a newly-opened pharmacy in town who was willing to dispense pretty much anything they have – I was able to get a month’s supply of Seroxat without prescription despite leaving mine at home. All it took was me filling out this form asking for my shrink’s name, phone number and hospital. I happily obliged.
Once I had my insanity pills in my hand, I suddenly got an orgasm: my pill-buying experience was effortless! If you do the math correctly, why not, you know, buy other pills… I then had a *good* panic attack. Ok. Which ones should I buy?
I quickly channeled my inner Pete Doherty-slash-Internet Geek and immediately thought of the tens thousands of spam I get in my email accounts on a daily basis. I mean, surely if they promote it by spam, it must be good — too good to be true.
It took me about a minute to think of what I’m gonna get. Being the novice at prescriptions, trust me darling, I’ve only done streetwear for years, I somewhat had a hard time calculating — don’t blame me, I only have 2 brain cells.
Ambien? sleeping aid. No.
Phentermine? diet pills. No.
Oxycontin? narcotics anonymous pain killers. No.
Viagra? cock drug. I still have the libido of a 16 year old, thank you very much. But still, I’m a botom bitch, so even if I had a 26-inch hard, throbbing cock, it would be useless cause I take it up the shithole. Well, after my SSRIs, that’s a different story, anyway, so, no, mot definitely Not.
And then it suddenly occured to me — Cialis.
That’s right. What the hell is Cialis? I mean,
it starts with the letter C, like Chanel, so
surely it can’t be that bad, right?
I sashayed my way back to the counter, flashing the counter girl with my biggest smile, giving her high voltage "I always get what I want" attitude and told her I want 10 pills of Cialis.
That’s right. 10 pills. Surely it can’t be that bad and I could easily dispose it if I didn’t want it in the first place.
A couple of seconds later, she came back with 8 pills. Unfortunately they were out of stock. I paid her in cash, about US$110 for all 8 pills.
Like a fashion victim coming out of an
Hermes store, I quickly opened one of
the boxes when I got inside the car and
then reality hit me. Not in my buttocks.
But in my balls.
One look at the insert and at the back of the box and it said "Indication: Treatment of Erectile Dysfunction".
My god — I bet everyone at the pharmacy were laughing their asses off as soon as I got out of the store.
I swear to god, never again I’ll go to that pharmacy. I don’t have the face to show after this whole hoola baloo.
And never again I’ll touch prescription. Like what I said before, sober is the best way to go.
And vodka red bulls.
Memories eh? They’re nice to have.
Lesson learned: don’t buy drugs if you don’t
know what they are.
I had to learn it the
hard blonde way.
So again, if you know anyone who needs this cock drug, let me know.
BTW, here are more pics of my new Balenciaga bag as requested by one of my readers. I added a watermark so those bitches can’t use pics and pretend they bought shit. As my friend Gian said, we can smell poverty from afar.
Enjoy! I’ll use my bag later when I go to my pulmonologist.
P.S. Infatuation should be removed in the dictionary. You’re in, you’re fat, you’re uation, which is a shortcut for ovulation. In other words, infatuation SUCKS.
P.P.S.S. I like you. No matter what they say.
P.P.P.S.S.S. Speaking of like, when are you getting me a 26-karat ring ala Paris Squared? It doesn’t have to be a diamond you know, you can start with Cubic Zirconia. That’s fine coz we all know diamonds don’t last forever. CZs on the other hand lasts as long as we both enjoy. At least they’re disposable. You know who you are.
P.P.P.P.S.S.S.S. For the love of god already, please email me and tell me you love me. firstname.lastname@example.org. Text messages/SMS can be sent to +63-915-785-1492.