Delay Delay Delay
A big hello to all of you. I know I haven’t updated much in the past two days. I’ve been terribly, terribly busy. Plus, my colds and cough are still here. I’m fine though –
don’t you dare thanks for worrying about me. your thoughts of sympathy are good but I need a new Chanel bag.
Unfortunately, I started smoking again. Yesterday, to be exact… after a 6-day lung holiday.
Save the lung cancer sermon – I don’t need it. In fact, shove this imagery up your buttocks if you want. I look forward to the day when my lungs turn pitch black.
Err, ok, I take that back.
I’ll stop smoking. I promise.
I look forward to the day I turn 75 – at least I’ll get to wear Oscar de la Renta.
Going back to business, my god, I’m soo anxious to see what my best friend Kelly’s offspring are gonna be.
I actually know what they are already. (DUH)
It’s just that I can’t reveal them until Friday night. That’s what I said on the invite.
Everyone knows that patience is a word that does NOT exist in my vocabulary. A pretentious parrot such as myself will never, ever, voluntarily shut his mouth for a few days to stop himself from bragging.
Keeping this secret from each and everyone of you is nothing but pure torture!
I think y’all gonna die if you knew what’s inside those two eggs. I’ll give you a couple of hints:
- they’re both brown
- one of them has some of the world’s most exotic skins
- one of them is bigger than the other
- one of them can fit inside the other
I know it’s already quite obvious from those two pictures but please gargle and swallow that man cream cum like a proper whore so you won’t ruin it for everyone else.
Besides, it could be an iguana or a ferret.
You never know.
Keep an eye out on Friday, October 7, 2005.
And yes, I know what you’re thinking. Shut IT. Oh yes. Just STOP, STOP, STOP looking at my arms and my bulging stomach. I know I’m BALLOONING to UNBELIEVABLE PROPORTIONS. It’s hard being a surrogate mother. Contrary to what people think, I will never, ever, ever accept that dirty rumor our ancestors said over time. I REFUSE TO ACCEPT THAT the "joys of motherhood" is worth all that excess flesh and stretch marks that motherhood brings. That’s all bollocks, I’m telling you.
I’m not even a real mother yet I already have stretch marks.
Bah! I won’t dig my own grave any further. What would my future grandchildren think if they read this blog in year 2080 and see that I admitted having stretch marks on a public domain?
Louis Vuitton Goodies
Yesterday was quite productive. I accomplished a ton of stuff – went to my usual haunt in Greenbelt, enjoyed a huge lunch with my gal pal Tina. As always, I enjoyed our our favorites – baked oysters, foie gras with green apple tart, duck confit, green mango and prawns salad.
Picked up a few things at Louis Vuitton – bought a bag strap and a bracelet. My special orders from Paris also arrived – my ski bonnet and my fur gloves.
This Thing About My Age
Stop this ludicrous commotion about my age – all of you!
Since when did a number became so important in your backwater swamp gossip talks? Heck, the only set of numbers that are important to me is the number of unfortunate guys I’ve slept with, my American Express card number and of course, the number of times I ask my maid to fetch me a glass of water each and every day.
Let me clarify this once and for all.
I’m too old to be a runway model in Milan, too young to be a pensioner, too old to be a pedophile’s sexual prey, too young to be a parent (of any kind), too old to be barely legal.
In other words, I’m….
cha-chin,. cha-ching, cha-ching
However, I’ll leave it up to YOUR imagination on how many ++ (plus plus) you’d like to add to that age.
Have you guys forgotten my annual 18th birthday party this year when i failed dressing up like a proper
bloke on knickers ladyboy?
Now as for that special someone at the LVLU discussion forums who thought I’m 17 years old…
Well, I wouldn’t call you special for nothing.
Let’s leave it at that.
I’ve been thinking of going dropping by Tallinn, Estonia (and Riga, Latvia) mid-trip on my Russian holiday. Like most countries, I need a fucking visa to go to that "Nouveaux-Euro" country. One of their visa requirements is the fact that I need to have some invitation to visit their country, even as a tourist.
Blah blah blah Kabbalah.
Unfortunately, there are no Estonian embassies in South East Asia so I have to fedex my passport and visa application to some far-flung place (i.e. USA).
I’m just waiting a response from their immigration people to see what they have to say.
2 names baby.
Carmen Kass and Tiiu Kuik.
If that country can export fine specimen such as those two, I’m curious on what they have in store over there.
Grocery shopping you ask?
Believe it or not, I had my first ever encounter with someone Estonian yesterday. We exchanged quite a few messages and he seems to be nice.
Hold the malicious thoughts right there. All we did is talked about friggin Estonia.
I’ll keep you posted in the next few weeks to come whether or not I’m going to Tallinn as well.
Bryanboy Loves… and Random Cheesemax
#1- Bryanboy loves people from Zaventem, Belgium, Reading, MA, Wellers Hill, Queensland, Australia, Pennsauken, NJ, Saint Paul, MN, Woodhaven, NY, Piedmont, CA and of couse, people from Manila, Philippines. Identify yourselves, bitches – Bryanboy loves each and everyone of you.
#2 – People from Finland are talking about me. God knows what they are talking about though – and I don’t care. It’s nice to get some attention from the far north. Click here to read the thread on some discussion forum. Big brownie points if you can understand what the hell they are talking about. Hello Finland!!!!
#3 – Jesus, the heat here is FUCKING killing me. I’ve got my airconditioning set to the coldest temperature it’s capable of but the heat seeps through our fucking roof – yes, we have third world roofing. We’re poor!
#4 – The Kate Moss cocaine video is out. Let’s all put this issue down to rest shall we?
More upates later. Promise!
As always, you know where to contact me… +63-915-785-1492 or firstname.lastname@example.org.