My, My, My Manila

The third world sweaty armpit of a metropolis that I call home is featured on next month’s Wallpaper* magazine. Click here to read the Wallpaper* guide to the national capital of the land of the brown, the l’exotique and the natives!

Thanks to Carlos C. who brought this wonderful news (via his blog) to my attention. My favourite haunts, M Cafe, Embassy, Firma (and more) are all there. And yes, Carlos is mentioned there, too!

Manila_wallpaper_001

Get your credit cards ready bitches and buy a one-way ticket to the city I love.

I’ll give free blowjobs to the boys and free handbags (and cheap lipstick) to the girls who rescue me from my boredom.

203_balut_5Plane fares are cheap, hotels are affordable, the food, the shopping and everything, including my fucking asshole that spit ping pong balls, won’t put you to debt or drain your trust fund.

Sucky sucky 5 dolla anyone? I’m your man. Me love you 10 dolla? You pay 20 dolla I give you free balut?

Visit Manila today. It’s not as bad as you think.

 

Toni & Guy Shampoo

For quite a while now (more or less 4-5 years) I’ve been ordering shampoo and conditioner from the Agua Spa of Morgans Hotel Group, formerly known as Ian Schrager Hotels. They have the best smelling shampoo ever (ok… they’re next to Frederic Fekkai’s Technician range) and I love how it gives my hair that "squeaky" clean feeling. In my opinion, it’s the Dior Homme of shampoos – simple, not too bubbly, clear, transparent, best of all, luxurious.

I didn’t like the shampoo at the Sheraton HK so I went to Watson’s and bought this little gem for my kinky blonde pubic-hair-like afro curly locks mane:

Toniguy

What’s funny though is the fact that it’s only until yesterday that I realized that the damn thing is just like the shampoo from the Agua Spa.

I guess the million-dollar question is, does our local Toni & Guy carry the above-pictured shampoo?

I doubt it. I think I’ll check with Nelson first thing tomorrow morning.

Finally!

After 3 long months of xanax drought, my dad’s driver finally found a pharmacy that carries Xanax (locally known as Xanor). My dad gave me this present earlier this morning before he went to the gym.

Cha ching!

Bluetablets

I know they look white on the screen, but yes, each of these pale, periwinkle-colored pills is a lifesaver.

I finally don’t have to go the shrink to ask for a new prescription for clonazepam.

My shrink’s schedule is a royal pain to my rectum.

How can that white-coated man possibly save the minds of the attention deficit disorder sufferers such as myself when all he does is spend 2 friggin hours (each day) at my local hospital before going to another one?

My advice: don’t overanalyze everything like I do. Anxiety attacks are the worst thing in the world next to disasters at the dry cleaners.

Bryanboy Loves… and Random Cheesemax

#1- Bryanboy loves people from Etobicoke, Ontario (Canada), Brooklyn, NY, Crown Point, Indiana, Bobcaygeon, Ontario (Canada), Merchantville, NJ, Kill of the Grange, Dublin, (Ireland), Broomall, PA and of course, Somers, NY. Bryanboy loves y’all. Identify yourselves, you menstruating wet vaginas, by posting a comment on my blog.

#2 – I received my Saks Fifth Avenue and Neiman Marcus books today on my weekly FedEx from my office and boy I’m in for a treat. Have you guys seen the Zac Posen for 7 For All Mankind jeans? I thought they reeked.

Dsc04523

*hesitates*

Alright.

Whatever.

There’s one piece (yes, just one piece) that’s nice, the embroidered one with the detachable charm made of semi-precious stones and beads. But the jeans with studs… ugh. It screams prostitute darlin, prostitute. Gimme that pair and I’d be the best-dressed bitch on your local  red light district.

Lifearchives_1_2

#3 – Lastly, here’s yet another photo from my dirty, working-class past. It’s amazing what my maid finds out whenever she cleans my room. My god, I fucking look like an underaged prostitute that would sell his ass in exchange for a drink in a bar. I think I was 15 or 16 when this photo was taken. Gag me please, gag me!

Freakshow

Don’t ask me who that girl was. The only thing that I can remember was the fact that I was dragged into that dirty bar/club/whatever (I think it’s called the Two Brewers) by some random young faggots in London whom, at that time, I didn’t know.

The only thing that makes me sleep at night these days is the fact that I think I’m much, much, much more prettier now than, say, a decade ago.

I think.

Well..

Um…

Fine.

Superstar_fabuleux1_1

Ugly duckling evolved into an ugly but hot and horny flamingo indeed.

Baboosh!