Protected: Back to regular programming… Today’s 6/6/6! Camwhore Time! Bryanboy does Lunch! Yes, Lunch!
Bryanboy At His Rawest
People seem to have this impression that everything about me is fabulous. I don’t blame them because that’s the image I project: my life is fabulous, I love beautiful things, I drool over beautiful people, I go to nice places etc. Flaunt it cause you have it. Show it while you have it. Work it like you own it. Fake it till you make it. I dress like a princess but in reality I’m just a pauper.
In the past few months I’ve received no less than a dozen emails from people (shit, I dropped my cigarette on my crotch as I typed that sentence) with questions like "what does Bryanboy wear when he’s at home?" etc. I also get compliments from many, many people complimenting me about my skin, which I don’t really understand cause I have terrible, terrible awful skin. Hah!
It’s Monday afternoon and I just got up less than an hour ago. I’m dead bored so I figured, why not surprise you lot with what the OTHER SIDE of BRYAN looks like.
Take note of all that excess flesh… now you know why I’m promoting my watermelon diet… oh and all that stubble on my face. You probably don’t see it now but you will, later.
Anyway, all I wear at home is a plain ol tee and boxers. It’s all about comfort clothes here. No juicy couture sweats whatsoever. Sometimes I’d even roam around the house wearing nothing but some y-front briefs on.
Get your own blog at Typepad, just like mine! Free trial.
Now, If the image above isn’t shocking enough, the photo you are about to see will HAUNT you for the rest of your life and change the way you think of me — Le Superstar Fabuleux my fuckin asshole.
You know what I realized a couple of days ago?
Thousands upon thousands of you visit my website on a regular basis. From Sydney and Osaka, Hamburg, Arkansas and Malmo, Sweden to Buenos Aires, Argentina down to my homies in Los Angeles, CA and Jakarta, Indonesia, millions of you have visited my site since October 2004. It’s amazing how a shitload of people all over the world found my little corner of the interweb and the numbers are still growing. You’ve read all my stories, you’ve seen and laughed at what seemed to be tens of thousands of my hilarious (and often ridiculous) photographs.
(That’s me at Shu Uemura’s latest party)
Now that you’ve seen a (small) part of my life on my blog after all this time, it’s my turn to know more about you, my dear reader.
I’ve always been curious on who reads my website. I mean, it’s quite obvious from the hundreds of "I LOVE BRYANBOY" and "INFAMOUS BRYANBOY POSE" photos that you have sent me, but I believe that’s only a very small percentage of the people who read (and/or visit) my blog religiously.
Moscow Needs Some Faggotry. Big Time., Meet Dhani Lennevald, Bryanboy Loves… and Random Cheesemax, LOTS OF LOVE From Around the World
Moscow Needs Some Faggotry. Big Time.
I’m sure you’ve heard the news on how Moscow’s first ever gay pride got trashed by a ton of nationalists, skinheads, religious fanatics and such. Thanks to Moscow’s homophobic mayor Yuri Luzhkov (who put a ban on the event), Russian fags and queers were deprived of such celebration… and some of them even got beaten up.
STOP! Faggotry in Motion #003
Stop. Read. Listen.
You know, there’s clearly something wrong with me. Less than 24 hours ago, I made myself a pact that I’ll no longer loitter around gas stations with a fast food chain just a stone’s throw away.
I got up extremely late (again) this afternoon (I went to bed at 10AM!!) I was gonna channel Caroline D’Amore but whatever. I had little time to dress up cause I was late for dinner at my grandma’s house down south. Well, I’m back home now and I have a shitload of surprises for you. It’s been quite awhile since I last camwhored and going down south is the perfect opportunity to do so.
Karl Lagerfeld: "You are as Beeeg as a Peeeg."
Ugh! I’ve been slacking all week long. In fact, I haven’t shaved since since last week. My entire face is covered with stubble. Boy I look so fucking rough and hideous. Bin Laden would’ve been so proud of me for channeling my inner taliban. At this point, even smack junkie Pete Doherty looks better than me.
I was supposed to get some highlights and my hair done at 2PM this afternoon with one of my gal pals but I ended up getting out of bed 3 hours late. Don’t ask me why – I already missed far too many appointments this week (including a late lunch session with Mrs. T) because of my fucked up sleeping habits.
I had 9 hours of sleep instead of my usual 4. I got up at 5 in the afternoon all sweaty and freaked out: I had the strangest
dream nightmare EVER… and to think, it’s rare for me to dream. Extremely rare. I’m too old for that dreaming bullshit. Afterall, sleeping is the only time my mere 2 brain cells get to rest. I’m gonna dream WHEN I WANT TO and that’s when I’M AWAKE. You know, foie gras wishes and Chanel haute couture dreams.
To Market To Market!
Foulard by Louis Vuitton, sunglasses from Dior, Pepsi t-shirt from Dolce & Gabbana, amber & gold necklace from Kenneth Jay Lane, bag from Hermès, jeans by Acne, boots by Frye.
I was bored out of my skull yesterday late afternoon so my sister nad I joined our mom and our maid to the supermarket. Kind of.
We skipped the whole roam-around-with-a -trolley thing and went straight to my favourite local patisserie Bizu. It’s pointless to watch your mom and the help browse raw, dead meat when you can sashay around the mall and try to get cute boys check out your OWN meat. Hahaha!
Anyway, my sis and I went to Bizu to have "breakfast"… at 6 in the evening!
Ooooh lookie lookie at at all those colourful macarons. I don’t like the blue-coloured mint one. Yuck! My favourite has got to be the green-coloured pistacchio and the purple-coloured blueberry. Scrumptious! It’s been ages since I last went to this place… even my mom only goes to Bizu for their macarons!
One day, when I get really really really rich and when I get my own big house with no traces of my familia de horreur in sight, I’ll invite each and every one of you and we’re gonna have a big macarons and tea party. I’ll buy macarons from Bizu by the truckload and I’ll import tea from Fauchon.
Then we’ll have a big orgy and you’ll watch me get gangbanged.
After Bizu, we went to our local bookstore to look for a book that was recommended to me by a reader called "Wolves in Chic Clothing". It’s a book written by the same people who wrote one of my favourite books, "The Right Address". I love these Park Avenue/New York society schmoiety books. It’s one step up from my previous reads such "Gossip Girls" etc. Books like these are very hilarious and highly entertaining. It’s fun to read stories involving the rich, the richer, the richest, the high society and all their drama in spite of the fact that they’re fiction. It makes you think "damn, I’m so glad I don’t belong in such circles" etc.
Wolves in Chic Clothing is available at Amazon.com for US$14.27. You can even get it cheaper on Amazon.com if you buy a like-new or used copy. It’s sad that my bookstore is sold out of the book.
We didn’t roam around the mall that much. I know that there’s NOTHING to see and to think, I’m almost there EVERY fucking day so we went back to the supermarket to take some pictionary shots.
Oh oh oh oh oh oh wait… we passed by this shop called "Tutto Moda" and saw this super old, super god knows how many seasons ago Gucci bag for about US$1,784.50 (P93,450). I can’t believe they’re still selling it at FULL PRICE!!! This is exactly why
NOBODY there aren’t a lot of people who buy luxury goods in this country. Inventory rarely moves because it’s rare for the shops to put items on sale!!! If things DO go on sale, they’ll only shave 15 or 20% off, unlike in other countries where they take 50-70% off the original price…. and to think, these items are oh so last season ago.
Camilla in a GAY Scandal and Willian finds out her shocking secret. What? Camilla is a man? Old news baby. I bet you a million dollars that Camilla DOES have a penis and Charles loves taking it up the shitter. Next!
I LOOOVE the fruits and vegetables section… always a nice backdrop for photos. It’s oh-so-domesticated.
Fashion Trivia #164349: did you know that Calvin Klein model Natalia Vodianova used to be a fruit market girl in Nizhny Novgorod in Russia?
Not too long ago, I watched this documentary about these anorexic Australian twins. A camera crew and a doctor visited their house and all they found on their fridge was a slice of watermelon. I was chatting with a friend the other day and I told her I should embark on a "watermelon and diet coke"-only diet. I really need to lose weight and anorexia is my only salvation.
We went straight home after the supermarket. I had a great time. It was Monday for god’s sake! I had much needed oxygen and it’s always nice to strut around and walk like Mariacarla Boscono at the fuckin mall.
Today’s Obligatory Paparazzi Shot(s)
Billionaire Bachelors Club
I was chatting to a friend on MSN and he gave me this link to check out. It’s Forbes’ Billionaire Bachelors list. I saw this list ages ago so it’s good to be reminded again.
It’s amazing how all of these boys are filthy rich yet they’re all fucking fugly. Proof that money can’t buy good looks the same way money can’t buy class or style (look at me… I’m a circus of my own and to think, I don’t even have that much money!).
Anyway, who needs good looks if you have THAT much money? I’ve seen a lot of FILTHY rich people and they look really awful and hideous. Even poor people look good compared to them. Hell yeah, look at all those poor models who end up prostituting once their careers are over. LOL. In this superficial and material world that we live in, money speaks louder than bone structure. Who needs jaw-dropping DNA when you’ve got at least 10 figures in your bank account? Even the pope will have unsafe sex with you if you’re dripping with that much wealth.
Say hello to daddy!!!!
Out of everyone on that list, I find Mikhail Prokhorov and 22-year old "Prince Albert" (HAHAHAHAHAHA) err Albert von Thurn und Taxis quite "doable". Ok… I wouldn’t touch them with a bat had they been poor but out of everyone on the list, they’re the ones who look ok. I think I’m biased because
1) I like Russians – those Russians certainly know how to play hard. And a Russian with $6.4 Billion dollars can easily turn my dream into a reality — to be an oligarch’s wife, all novvye russkiye (new Russian) style in $120,000 chinchilla furs and US$11,000 crocodile Fendi b bags.
2) I have a soft spot for young people – I don’t know what it is but I’ve always been a jailbait magnet. As much as I’d want to have a sugar daddy to spoil me rotten, it’s different to be with someone a little younger than me. God forbid I end up a pedophile someday.
Come to mommmmmmma
and 3) I like billionaires – who doesn’t? Billionaires trump millionaires any time of the day sweetie.
Ok, except Fahd Hariri. The fine line starts here and let’s not even go there.
He may be only 25, worth US$2.7 BILLION dollars and can easily turn me into the new MOUNA AL AYOUB but there’s something in his eyes that are sooo satanic.
Oh good lord just fucking look at me. I’m a gold digger at such tender age. For all you know, I could end up with a penniless (not penisless) man in the future.
And with my attitude (in addition to my ugliness), I might even end up
with NO MAN AT ALL!!!
HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHA! Poor me. I’m doomed for the rest of my life!
Podcast #6 coming up in a bit… and Bryanboy Loves… and Random Cheesemax. Be sure to subscribe to my podcast. You WON’T FIND IT on iTunes. Visit
I love you all. Email email@example.com or SMS +63.915.785.1492.
PPSS. Bryanboy älskar svenskar!
Jag talar till alla lata, svenska mammaknullare. Lyft på luren och ring +46-08-5592-6279 för att tala in ett meddelande till mig. Säg ert förnamn och vart i Sverige du ringer ifrån. Jag vill även höra er säga det magiska ordet "Baboosh" och jag vill att DU, ja DU, säger att du ÄLSKAR MIG.
Du kan också ställa vilken fråga du vill. På ENGELSKA, såklart.
EXEMPEL PÅ ETT MEDDELANDE
(ignorera musiken i bakgrunden)
Du kan också ställa vilken fråga du vill. På ENGELSKSKA, såklart. Jag kommer publicera ditt meddelande på min nästa podcast.
RING NU SLYNOR! ALLA NI SMUTSIGA SVENSKA SLYNOR, HOROR OCH BÖGAR! jag vill höra din röst, det borde inte ta mer än 1 minut. Hahahaha!
Jag älskar er som alltid.
Faggotry in Motion #001
It’s here! It’s finally here!
Many of you have emailed to ask whether I have videos of me online. I don’t think I have any videos of me other than the one my Russian friend took 2 years ago in Moscow.
I *know* many of you are obsessed about me. Don’t deny it. I know for a fact that you visit my blog every day to drool over my latest pictures, see what I’m wearing recently (clothes, accessories and BAGS), look for those "I LOVE BRYANBOY" and the infamous Bryanboy pose photos, read what I have to say and of course, last but not the least, check whether I’M GOING TO TALK ABOUT YOU… ok, I totally made up the last bit.
Point is, some of you simply can’t get enough of me so I’m giving you MORE!
After several hours of toying around with Windows Movie Maker, I am proud to present you the latest addition to my ever-growing media library… the BRYANBOY "FAGGOTRY IN MOTION" video series.
OF MY "FAGGOTRY IN MOTION" SERIES VIDEO.
Note: you must have Windows Media Player in order to view the file. If you are on a MAC or if you don’t have Windows Media Player, feel free to use the YouTube video below.
The downloadable file is wayyy clearer and much better. I’m sooo sorry for the shitty video quality. I don’t toy around with technology that often and my video editing skills are pretty much nonexistent. Nevertheless, things will definitely get better over time. Hopefully I’ll have really cool videos of me soon.
My sister and I visited our grandma down earlier this morning and we stopped by at the gas station.
We went to McDonald’s for fries, coke and a couple of quarter pounders. Ugh. McD’s used to be a "once a month" or "once every 2 months" affair. I need to see my shrink pronto. There must be an underlying reason why I’m addicted to fast food as of late.
Hat from Chanel, sunglasses from Chanel, "Coco Movie" necklace from Chanel, white tank top from Topshop, beige cardigan from Zara, jeans from Acne Jeans (Sweden), oversized denim bowling bag by Chanel (Luxury by Chanel line).
I’m gonna get struck by lightning for owning 3 Luxury by Chanel bowling bags: black, silver and oversized denim. God, who in their right mind would buy 3 bags of the same style but in different colors? Hahahahahah! I don’t know what it is but I’m currently having a Chanel obsession. In fact, I was *this* close in getting another Chanel bag… I used to be on the waiting list for that tiny bag with the airplane and the rainbow but thank goodness I didn’t follow through on that. Enough Chanel for me this season… unless they come up with a JUMBO caviar classic quilted bag in a pale/sky blue color. No, not the ostrich one or the washed leather. I saw those already.
We also went to Starbucks for a caffeine fix… as if the large coke wasn’t enough. I got a venti Americano. Take note how I wore socks with my limited edition Havaianas. I was gonna put my shoes on but I was too damn lazy. I guess this whole socks with sandals/flip flops is a very Filipino thing. Gosh, I’ll never forget those days back in the dark ages and I’d see all these guys wear socks with their birkenstocks inside the mall. Ugh! I felt like one of them. Yuck!
We took a few pictures here and there, even stopped by at the highway/motorway/freeway toll gate exit/bridge that overlooked my former school. Ick!
Today’s Obligatory Paparazzi Shot
I hope you all enjoy the video as much as I do. It’s 10:34PM and I’m really tired and knackered to the bone. I’m gonna take a nap and I’ll update later.
I love you all!
As always, you all know where to contact me. Email firstname.lastname@example.org or SMS +63.915.785.1492.
PPSS. Bryanboy loves his loverboy Chad, who recently went to Iceland. Dammit, I *MISS* Iceland. It’s been quite awhile since I last went there… shit, 6 or 7 years I think.
Mariah sang a song for me
Oh. my. fucking. god.
You people have got to listen to this voicemail I got a few days ago. Mariah called in and sang a song especially for me. I was gonna put it on a new podcast but I’m too friggin lazy and I can’t be bothered.
I’m not really a Mariah fan but after listening to that voiceclip, I realized damn, I should love her too!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
You, too, can call in my voicemail line and leave me messages. In fact, you can even call in and ask me questions. I’ll answer them on my next podcast.
Pick up the phone and dial +1.206.339.3479.
That number is located in Seattle, USA. If you’re calling from outside the USA/Canada, you’ll need to add your international dialling code before calling this number. Don’t forget to say your name, where you’re calling from, whether you love me or not and of course, you gotta say the magic word BABOOSH!.
Hat by Chanel, short-sleeve cropped hoodie by Norma Kamali for Everlast, oversized tank top by Karoo (Mark Eisen), jeans from Cheap Monday (Sweden), B-Bag from Fendi and boots from Dior Homme.
Can’t Say No to Nokia
The fabulous folks at Nokia recently invited me to join one of their campaigns for their phones. They’re going to launch the new NOKIA 3250, a phone that allows you to listen to play tracks, listen to music, take photos with the 2-megapixel camera etc. It’s a lovely phone. I got mine in… PINK!!!
The shoot went well. I got there in time. I thought I was gonna be late but the traffic wasn’t as bad as I thought. It took no more than 25 minutes from my house to the big city… on a rush hour!
I guess I’m an easy subject. Hahahaha! ‘styling’ me was effortless. HAHA! I hope so. In fact, all I had to do was bring my own clothes and accessories. Make-up didn’t take more than 5-10 minutes. It was piss easy.
Eunice is such a pig. I gave her my leftover pizza and the bitch smothered pizza oil on my camera hence the blurry pictures. Argh!!
There’s absolutely NO excuse for my bovine-sized love handles.
BTW, that’s Karla, fab stylist galore… she’s also the Fashion Editor of Philippine Tatler magazine.
I also met Lourd of Emphasis salon. He’s my
nonsexual wife anorexic daughter Hannah’s stylist. He’s the guy who did my makeup. I need a tan pronto!!! Standing next to him makes me feel caucasian. I’m soooo pale I hate it!!!
I guess y’all have to wait until the campaign goes out on the papers to see the end result. I’m SOOO excited! I feel like a model. Hahahha! YUCK. My faggotry is finally paying off!!!
I can’t wait to have my own billboard one day!!!
HAHAHAH! :) You all know how I’ve always fantasized about having my own billboard. Someone just please fulfill my dream pronto. I’m not getting any younger these days.
Ok.. well.. it’s either a billboard or a crocodile birkin bag.
After the shoot, I went to the cash machine to take out cash. It’s been ages since I last went to McDonald’s and I had a weird chicken craving, thanks to my Mexican buddy Mauricio. I know I LOOOVEEEEE Jollibee Chickenjoy but I can’t, for the life of god, find a Jollibee drive through at the place I went.
Did you know that my motherland, the Philippines (aka land of the brown, l’exotique and the natives), is probably THE only place in the world where McDonald’s sell fried chicken?
Oh dear. My bum looks big on this photo. Hello J.Lo!
Work it like you own it.
Mmmmm yummmy!!! I loooove McDonald’s fries. Take note how nobody wanted to fall in line behind me. I guess that’s how scary I am.
My favourite New York Queen Bee socialite once said that being on a wheelchair at the airport is like flying FIRST CLASS +++ PLUS. You automatically get in front of the line!
Screw the wheelchair. I’d rather be a fag! I LOOOOOOVE being a fag cause I get to have all this space around me. Let’s face it, it really is fun when nobody wants to go near your initimidating flaming ass for the fear of catching the homosexuality bug.
Even Nicky Hilton and our Fendi B-Bag will agree with me.
This just in… courtesy of Perez Hilton.
It’s official. Kate really sobered up her act and stayed away from cocaine. Oh no!!!!!!! She looks like a fat woman!!!!!! I hate it!!!!! What did this woman do to the legendary Kate Moss?
I guess this whole sobering up/weight gain/domestication thing is VERY trendy these days. All the fabulous people in the world are domesticating themselves and fattening up.
Yes, I know, I know. I haven’t paid ANY attention to my InsideMyBag.com baby in the past few months. Please don’t be mad at me. I decided I’m gonna resurrect that site and update it with your submissions.
PLEASE send me a picture of what’s inside your handbag. Email email@example.com. Give me a couple of hours and I’ll start with the first set of updates.
I’d truly appreciate it if you spread the word about that site to everyone that you know.
I **PROMISE** I’m gonna do everything that I can to update that website often.
I know I fucking look like a stroke victim on this photo. One of my eyes look weird but what the hell. All I can say at this point is…..
LONG LIVE FAGGOTRY!
More updates later. I promise.
Enough faggotry for now. You know how I close my blog entries, right?
I love you all. Email firstname.lastname@example.org or SMS +63-915-785-1492.
I’m getting bored…
First things first… I’d like to give a big shout out to readers of Elle Girl magazine in the Netherlands. Thanks for loving and talking about me.
Ik HOUD van ELKE EN ELKE ÉÉN VAN U! VERZEND ME een BEELD VAN U DIE HOUDEN Het TEKEN Ik van de LIEFDE BRYANBOY! KUSSEN!!!
Ok. My Dutch is all wrong and that’s what I get from using one of those online translator things. Hopefully y’all get the jist out of it. HAHAHAHA!
I finally managed to get my lazy fat ass to my dermatologists yesterday afternoon. There’s a photo shoot I need to go to and I have to look pretty.
First stop: Coffee Bean
THANK god the whipped cream-serving bulldyke of a midget wasn’t there. I don’t want anyone to be spitting on my drink (unless they’re cute, hot and rich… but then again, no cute, hot and rich person will work as a barista) after whingeing on my blog.
Just to be safe, I EXPLICITLY told the lovely lady behind the counter that I DO NOT WANT WHIPPED CREAM on my drink… my wish is her command.
Cardigan by LAROK, white tank top by Calvin Klein, brown/rust-colored jeans from Acne Jeans (Sweden), boots from Fruit, bag from Hermès, amber and gold necklace from Kenneth Jay Lane, sunglasses from Dior
Boy I got a surprise for all of you.
You see, I often get asked as to who takes my photos. In addition to my familia de horreur members and friends, well, let me unveil one of them. Meet my maid, Eunice.
Eunice has been my maid for quite some time and she’s the best, best, best friend a faggot like me can ever have. She’s got everything about me memorised. She knows some of my deepest, darkest secrets. She’s been with me through obesity and thin and up to this day, I’ve never heard a single word (.. or grunt) from her in spite of everything that she’s done for me, like cleaning up all my puke on the bathroom floor after a good night out… or my soiled, skid mark-infested underwear.
nonsexual wife anorexic daughter Hannah would complain about her "hunchback" maid, Simang, every once in a while.
HOY HANNAH, at least your maid ain’t a lesbian!!!
Today’s obligatory paparazzi shot.
I have a feeling my maid Eunice might be a lesbo. I’ve never seen her show any kind of perverted emotion towards guys.
OK… WAITTTTT.. she thinks that Piolo (spelling?) Pascual
Filipino actor guy is cute.
She won’t believe me when I told her that he’s gay like a row of pink camping tents.
So yeah, I had my usual glycopeel cleaning/extraction facial.
For the first time in ages, I didn’t feel any pain today. God knows why. I usually have low tolerance for pain, expecially while having a facial done. I know I scream like a pregnant prostitute bitch in labor every time my aesthetician extracts a white head from one of my blocked pore.
Today’s lack of pain made me think about things I don’t usually think about on a day-to-day basis.
For instance, sometime last week, I told a friend on how I’m starting to get bored. I expressed my desire to experience something new, like, learn a new skill or take up cooking classes.
She suggested that we learn a foreign language together… take up French at one of those Alliance Francaise centers. I told her sure, why not. We even checked the availability online and the session that we want won’t start until October. There’s a 3rd and 4th session but we’re both planning to travel around June/July/August.
While the lady pricked my face, I realized I’m at that stage where everything is just stagnant. I’m turning into a stale, 20-something.
I mean, I know I’ve changed tremendously in the past 12 months. However, if I look at it on a different perspective, it feels as if I’m not going anywhere. My life’s at a standstill and I’m doing the same things over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again.
I told my friend this and she thinks "I’ve gone so far and achieved so much already".
I remember the old times when I used to deny myself from owning to what I’ve achieved in order to delude myself into thinking I have a tiny bone of humility inside me.
But I still can’t can’t help but ask myself the $64 million question.
WHERE AM I GOING AT THIS POINT?
Let’s face it, I won’t deny that all I do is shop, shop, shop, work, work, work, shop, shop, shop, spread my faggotry to the world, shop, work, eat, eat, eat, spread my faggotry to the world, shop, shop, spread my faggotry to the world.
It’s gotten to the point where it’s like a routine.
Shit, it’s MY routine.
Everything used to be fun. Every time I get a material ‘acquisition’…a bag, a jacket, everything… it brings a genuine smile to my face and I feel soo… contented. I know I once said that being severely materialistic makes up for my lack of non-material things in life. But in all honesty, I don’t take my sense of materialism too seriously. Afterall, it’s only material stuff!
Enough ranting. I already sound like a broken record.
I think it might be therapeutic if I list what I want to happen SOON.
- have a clear sense of direction on where I’m heading
- experience something NEW and FUN!
- learn something NEW… a new skill, a new hobby, whatever
(Would you believe I even went as far as researching VOLUNTEER OPPORTUNITIES in countries like ECUADOR and ROMANIA? I don’t know what came over me considering there’s over 80 million people who need help in my own backyard. My familia de horreur had always told me to stay away from hallucinogenic drugs and the people who take them.)
Before you go on a high horse and bombard me with your PREDICTABLE sanctimonious crap, I’m begging you to please avoid telling me to
- just be "myself" (and)
- donate to charity.
An escape from reality is what I need. Away from the blog, the Chanel, the Fendi, the Goyard, the shopping, the facials, the cellphone, the internet, the familia de horreur and of course, the sheer thought at the back of my mind that I’m surrounded by vultures who are constantly looking for that perfect opportunity to devour me alive.
I need a holiday. A 1 or 2 month-long vacation. Somewhere extremely remote and far-flung but close to civilization. Somewhere where nobody knows me and I know nobody.
Somewhere like Skåne, Sweden.
I want to be surrounded by nature. I want to pick fresh flowers, see trees, ride a huge horse. I want to buy a lot of art materials and learn how to paint scenery etc., that sort of thing. I also want to get gangbanged by well-hung farmboys and have hot and horny mixed-race baby-making sex on top of a tractor.
Remember Jakob, the Swedish guy I met up with in Copenhagen> He’s the only person in the world who managed to made me walk (and you KNOW I despise walking) for like 2-3 hours just to find that bloody Little Mermaid Statue?
Well, he offered to take me to his summer house in Varberg middle of nowhere bumfuck Sweden.
If I take him up on his offer that beats the purpose of me travelling somewhere where "no one knows me and I know nobody".
Hmmm pakipot ka pa alam mo naman kung saan matutuloy yan.
I wanna go to Skåne god dammit.
Oh I’m just soooo bored with life right now. All I need is change. That’s all.
PPSS. The only thing that making life worth living is your love. And John Galliano.
Bryanboy loves Erick from Vandenberg AFB (Air Force Base?) California. Erick sweetie you do know that one of goals in life is to get gangbanged by the military/navy/army/men in black etc, right? PLEASE GET SOME OF YOUR AIR FORCE BUDDIES TO STRIP NAKED AND HOLD AN I LOVE BRYANBOY SIGN FOR ME.
Screw the don’t ask don’t tell policy. If I get gangbanged by men in uniform, I want MAXIMUM MILEAGE, MAXIMUM PUBLICITY. I want to make a shitload of MONEY and sell videos of it.
Failing that, the Bryanboy pose picture will do just fine. :)
You really love me do you now? Can I ride your aeroplane? It’s my aeroplannnneeee…
Alex from Tasmania, Australia. Big kisses from me to you. I love ya lots darling even if you sent me a damn photochopped photo. I SAID NO PHOTOSHOPPED ONES… HAHAHA ;)
This set of photos is better than PORN!!! I jacked off 10 times and my balls are the size of raisins. Courtesy of Clair from Perth, Australia.
(This is what I call TRUE LOVE)
PPPSSS. OH MY GOD. THIS VIDEO HAS GOT TO BE THE GAYEST VIDEO I HAVE EVER AND I MEAN EVER SEEN.
I’m gonna go to sleep now. I have a photo shoot later today.