Work ittttt! Exercise!
After approximately 3 weeks of channeling domestic goddess Martha Stewart, I finally put my best dancing shoes on and went to the city yesterday evening to infuse some nightlife into my system. I’m seriously surprised how I managed to stay indoors in the past couple of weeks. Shit, I’ve been hibernating in my own little world filled with plaid aprons, white carnations and yellow daisies.
Any child of MY age SHOULD BE out there indulging in crime, mischief and scandals… or get themselves drunk till they pass out and vomit whatever they ate during the day. They should also do hard drugs, enjoy unsafe sex with multiple partners until they get sperminated or preggers and of course, catch a sexually transmitted disease that can be sorted out by a bunch of antibiotics or lice shampoo. Afterall, life is too short not to experience such hell-worthy sins.
Let’s face it, it’s a waste of youth to stay indoors on a Saturday night, especially if you’re in your late teens with raging hormones (like me). I’ve been ITCHING to expose myself to the toxicity of bars, booze and clubs so I decided to do just that.
I left the house at 10:30PM. On my way to a friend’s house, REALITY knocked on my car window while we’re waiting for the stoplight to turn green: the REAL and SAD face of the "FAUX-bulous" third world I live in.
Why is there a young boy, probably younger than 10 years old, selling flowers on the streets late at night when he should be at home asleep?
And there I was… all comfortable in my fully-airconditioned crappy car, all dolled up and decked in ridiculous outfits + accessories that can pretty much feed this child for a year and even send him to a good school.
It really made me think for a second and trust me, this doesn’t happen VERY OFTEN considering I’m the most selfish and materialistic son of a bitch you’ll probably ever come across.
I kinda felt guilty about my sins so I gave the kid a bag of chips and a bottle of gatorade that I had in my car.
He smiled and thanked me. I asked if I can take a photo, he said yes. I thanked him and I closed the window.
I tried to delete, delete, delete, abort, abort, abort, whatever just happened from my head. It wasn’t the right time to think about charity and world peace. My mission for the night is to have fun and paint the town periwinkle. The most important thing in the world at that moment is the fact that I’m so fucking beautiful and that was that.
Anyway, I picked up my friend at her place. I also asked my driver to stop by at the cash machine so I can take out some cash. Usually I don’t take out that much since everywhere I go takes credit cards – booze, food, botles of champagne, drug dealers, hired hitmen, shit, even prostitutes these days take credit cards… all it takes is one swipe on their ass cheeks and they’re yours for the night.
So yeah, US$20 is enough for the night to cover highway toll-fees, fast food take out, tips, my driver’s fee, etc.
After entering my pin number, the machine asked how much cash I wanted to take out.
Out of nowhere, I had mental images and flashbacks of the street child’s face. The thought of using my visa card to pay for a night’s worth of debauchery gave me a weird feeling at the pit of my stomach. Gone are the days where I’d easily and effortlessly throw my plastic to the air and rack up a 6-foot long bar tab in 6pt Arial font.
I figured I’m gonna ditch the visa for once and pay in cash the entire night so I don’t go overboard. Afterall, there are children starving on the streets. I entered P3,000, which is about US$60.
Our first stop was this bar called "Nuvo" where we spent quality time chatting. I had a gin tonic and 3 frozen margaritas. It was refreshing indeed.
We then went to my usual haunt, La Embajada. They recently got renovated and it’s the first time I went there after their renovation. They now have 2 VIP areas, which is a good thing.
I thought I’d do the infamous Bryanboy pose. Afterall, it was at La Embajada where I gave birth to that pose.
There weren’t a lot of familiar faces so it was fun to let my hair down for a change, get all sweaty and wrecked.
It’s refreshing to ditch the glitz, the glamour, the pretension and just dance, dance, dance and sweat like a fuckin rapist!
A fan from Australia even approached me and said hi. See, I’m nice and I don’t bite. I got a photo of us taken. Shit, I probably scared the living hell out of her. HAHAHHA. Sorry babes!
Man, it’s just like the good ol’ days when me and my sister would go to the club, booze our guts out, dance like there’s no such thing as tomorrow.
I must have lost 5 pounds from all that dancing! To hell with it, I had a complete body workout.
This guy is a good DJ. For the life of god I can’t remember his name and I’ve seen him many, many times.
Sunglasses by Gucci, bracelet from Hermès, cropped hoodie by Norma Kamali for Everlast, tank top by Fake London, jeans by Fake London, shoes by Dior Homme, Ursula Elise bag from Marc Jacobs collection.
The Marc Jacobs bag is available at all Marc Jacobs boutiques worldwide, Neiman Marcus, Saks, Bergdorf and eLuxury (US$1,050) in the USA.
We left the club at around 3:30AM. I dropped my friend home then I stopped by at McDonald’s for a post-clubbing snack. I orderedd chicken nuggets, 2 large fries, a double cheeseburger, a big mac and a large coke.
And yes bitches, I ate them all. There goes my 5 pounds eh?
Today’s Obligatory Paparazzi Shot
Due to high demand from my readers, I am now gonna post an "obligatory paparazzi shot" going on forward. Many of you have emailed telling me you enjoy these shots so I’ll try to do this often.
Isn’t it my cropped hoodie sooo Muslim chic? Perhaps I should make a trend out of the burka. Sooo sexy!
5 SECONDS OF TV AIR TIME
Guess who got 5 seconds of TV Air Time in San Diego, California?
I’d like to give a big shout out to Peter from San Diego. In his own words, "thousands of San Diegans know that somebody in San Diego loves Bryanboy."
Peter sent a text message to be shown on the big screen in between performances. It’s a concert featuring Mary J. Blige, Rihanna, Chris Brown and other folks.
Visit Peter’s website at http://www.petterz.com.
Thanks babe. You’re a doll!!! You’re doing the world a big favor by spreading my gospel and the glory of my faggotry.
Those Europeans sure do know how to make a gook like me happy. They love their labels as much as I do.
Meet Oliver from France…
…Terry from Italy
… and of course, the father of my first born child, Alex from the UK, who is the original "I LOVE BRYANBOY mascot.
It’s Sunday, 6:54PM. I’m gonna work on Podcast #006 and my much-awaited Bryanboy Loves… and Random Cheesemax post.
You all know where to contact me. Email firstname.lastname@example.org or SMS +63.915.785.1492.
I love you all. Don’t do anything that I won’t do and remember kids, keep your chastity belts on.