Well hello there.
First things first, I have to make an exception and start my post with unconditional love and thanks to this man who temporarily etched his undying love for me on his face.
From the cocaine-covered walls of my aorta, muchos muchos love to you, too, even though "BRYANBOY" looks like BEIJINGBOY or BIJANBOY.
I’ll be honest. I did something I don’t normally do after a Saturday night out. Today was one of those extremely rare days: I got home no later than 7AM. In fact, I arrived at 6:41AM to be exact. And it doesn’t help getting up at 1 in the afternoon with one of my worst hangovers ever. Blurry vision, chalk-y tongue, headache and stiff neck galore.
My usual weekend haunt, La Embajada was jampacked last night. It was so crowded that you literally need to use your levitation skills in order to get from one place to another.
Even the VIP area was soo crowded. I usually have a place ‘semi-reserved’ for me (in other words, the waiters/bouncers tell people, unless their powers are more superior than mine, to get their lazy asses up because the queen bee is coming) and anyone related to me up to the 2nd degree but all it takes is one trip to the toilets and ya gotta wave buh bye to your spot. When you come back, you’ll just find yourself standing up, staring at your drinks behind the army of the unknowns who shamelessly took your seat.
Some skinny, short-haired vagina accidentally spilled wine on my Gucci jeans and Gucci belt. May god bless her soul and may she rest in peace wherever she is now.
"It’s only white wine, it won’t stain" my fucking asshole.
To add to the insult, little miss chinky slit vagina told me to go to the toilets to stuff tissue up my jeans so they dry up faster.
Hell, it’s just like telling me to wear a spacesuit and go to the Saharan dessert by myself.
Thank god Hannah Matronic was there. She kept my sanity intact.
Is it your first time at Embajada? Don’t you know that it takes 10 long years to go inside the toilets?
Sorry bitch, I just had to vent it out. I won’t hold it against you. Case dismissed. Peace and Merry Christmas. :)
I’m about to say something I’ll never, ever, ever, ever, ever say to anyone, whether in public or private because there’s still that "if you think local celebs are cute, you’re ghetto" factor. But fuck it though, this is my blog and I can say anything I want.
Raymond Fucking Guitterez, You’re hot!.
OK, maybe I shouldn’t say that. The thought of dealing with your mom is probably enough to turn anyone off. Since most of my readers are people of the non-Filipino kind, his mom is the female, highly-opinionated version of Jessica and Ashlee Simpson’s dad.
(oh btw – if this woman doesn’t like you, she can effortlessly throw hardcore verbal diarrhea to your face jerry springer style, on national television)
It’s interesting how much stuff I know about showbiz these days eh? Hah!
God I hate showbiz.
Ugly People of the World… Speak Up NOW!
Or forever hold your
Most fugly people, like me (see – I do normal things normal people do, too), read something while taking a poo in the toilet. Whether it’s your daily newspaper, your favourite fashion magazine or the book that you bought 6 months ago but you only read about 2-3 pages a day, it’s always nice to have your mind wandering somewhere while you drop the kids into the swimming pool.
I thought I’d share in yet another piece from my favourite "only read it while you’re taking a poo" book, The Hookup Handbook: A Single Girl’s Guide to Living It Up by Andrea Lavinthal and Jessica Rozler.
One thing that brightened up my day is how they have this piece about "himbos" – that’s right bitches – the male version of a bimbo. It made me think – after a rather accurate description of "himbos", gawd I must have been so stupid in the past because I’ve been with one of those abominable creatures.
Read this piece and tell me, would you want to hook up with a himbo?
I say pass the pepper and salt bitch cause there’s no way I’m eating my steak bland.
When you look at it at a different perspective, the best material things in life always come from someone who isn’t blessed in the looks department.
Passionate sex (here’s a doggie bag bitch, go vomit whatever you last ate), lots of gifts (a girl like me can never have too much of Chanel), free drugs (bring in the snow cause you’re my litte snowman), free booze (cry me a cristal baby, cristahhhhhhhhl), nice cars (there must be something nice about you to compensate for your errrm..) and the million-dollar mansions (daddy, can i visit your zoo?).
Is there a gold digger hidden inside you? To compensate the lack of personal pictures lately, let’s play a little pictionary game shall we…
Take a look at these random faces for instance and tell me whether or not you recognize these people:
Seriously – would you do the despicable deed if they offered you a couple of million, cold, hard, and bundled inside a Goyard trunk?
With the help of MSN Messenger and a couple of American gay friends online, I asked them to give me links to pictures of "who they think what a himbo is". Now take a look at these people.
Quite interesting eh?
Now who would you choose – the former or the latter? Weigh the advantages and disadvantages between the two.
My verdict: you can’t expect and you won’t receive much from a himbo. A himbo is no different than a hoover vacuum in the middle of a hoot-hoot-hooter’s bar.
In the spirit of golddiggerdom and despite my applied rule of ageistics and physics (older than 20, younger than 35), if you were to ask me, I’d take the IKEA Founder anytime. It doesn’t take a consultation with my astrologist or a knock on cheap Swedish wood babe to know that man will probably die of cardiac arrest if i told him in person "daddy i wanna i kee ya".
Good luck if you chose Aaron Spelling bitches cause that man will never, ever, ever die. That man will live on and on and on and on and survive all sorts of world war 1, 2, 3, even star wars. For all we know, we can be on our deathbeds wearing Oscar de la Renta and Aaron will still be alive and well.
Bryanboy Loves… and Random Cheesemax
People from Akron, OH, Montpellier, France, Hembrug, Netherlands and people with white collar 9-5 jobs in Austin, Texas. Bryanboy loves you all!
It’s never too late to send your undying love to me. Send photos of yourself holding an "I Love/<3 Bryanboy" sign to email@example.com. Remember – NO photoshopped pictures please.
#1 – Yes, you’re fucking hot, too. It’s nice to rub up against you last night, even if it was only for a few seconds.
#2 – Yes, I am a masochist. Thanks for asking. I let people use me all the time. It’s like being inside a gas chamber with mirrored walls. All you can do is lie down, have convulsions and slowly stare at yourself dying.
#3 – Has anyone noticed that Eluxury/Louis Vuitton is trying their best to drain my bank account? The mother fuckers at LVMH are coming up with more and more gorgeous stuff.
#4 – Chanel recently held a show in Shanghai. Public transportation has never been this chic.
#5 – Victor Basa, is this the bracelet you talked about last night?
#6 – Last, but not the least, thank you so much to 2 individuals who recently gave me some of the best and genuine advice I have ever heard (and have not even heard from the people I expect to hear it from) in ages.
I love you all!
And yes, I will definitely play it up!