I thought I’d do one last whinge before I get some serious skin-tightening beauty sleep on my Pratesi-covered mattresses.
Ever since I started this blog, I’ve received far too many emails from you, my dear readers, on how I should come visit you for some serious R & R: reckless recreation.
We all know that geography is no boundary when it comes to my fans. Who knew there’s internet access in friggin Zimbabwe? Who knew I have fans who live in Ecuador? Even folks from Winnipeg, Alberta and Littleton, Colorado, they’re all feeding themselves with verbal diarrhea coming from my little third world rectum.
As much as I’d want to visit each and every one of you, one should realize that 99% of all the countries (and that includes friggin Iraq and Afghanistan) in the world show their disgust every time they see this snot-colored piece of document that we, citizens of the brown, the l’exotique and the natives, are born with.
That’s right bitches.
Immigration officials, visa officers, diplomats and consular services representatives wordwide frown upon anyone who holds the above-pictured passport because of all the bad deeds our ancestors did, dating back when the passport got invented.
You probably won’t believe the number of citizens of this third world hell hole cesspit would do anything just to get out of the country PERMANENTLY and ILLEGALY.
And it’s fucking true.
All the stereotypes you’ve heard from your neighbour are correct.
For instance, did you know that ALL Filipinos have some sort of a relative… or a distant relative, living in the United States of the Democrats, the Republicans and the Damned?
People from my land, the land of clear blue skies, coconut trees, weather la tropicale and boring malls would do anything just to get out of the country? It doesn’t matter whether they marry a sex-starved pensioner from Europe or smuggle themselves in cheap nylon suitcases one body part at a time: a lot of people will find a way just to get out… and most of them did.
What’s even worse are illegal immigrants who are a drain to a foreign government’s resources: benefits and welfare scroungers.
So here I am, a model citizen, suffering the consequences of my fellow shitizens.
Each and every god damn country in this planet now requires a friggin visa before allowing us to breathe oxygen in their country.
Some visas are easy to get, particularly the ones where no one from my country usually go to: India, China, Mongolia, etc, while most embassies now require us to give our entire lives documented in paper: bank statements, credit card statements, income tax returns, proof of assets, house & car titles, letters from our employers or proof of our businesses and everything else that you can think of.
And yes, they even want your first born child… or your bed sheet thread count if you’re impotent.
Now I don’t mind giving out such paperwork if I wanna go to a full blown shopping and reckless recreation expedition but doing so each and every time I want to go somewhere (or getting one visa after another one expires) is a fuckin hassle.
The documents are one thing but what’s worse is the drama dealing with the embassies.
Waking up at some ungodly hour just to submit your application at the embassy is one thing.
Queueing for hours is another thing.
And having incessant chit chat with someone who wants to pry on your personal life is another…although I have to give everyone credit for not asking me my guilty pleasures, the number of people I’ve slept with and the number of times I got my hair coloured in the past.
When one of my gal pals went to a European city last year for around 2 weeks, the local embassy took around 3 weeks to a month just to process her visa application… and the embassy had her passport the whole time!
Most of these embassies employ hardcore snob-to-the-max Filipino administrative assistants who would give you the cold shoulder as if you’re a mere pleb when in reality they should be the ones hailing you because of the economic benefit they’ll get from you when you spend your dosh at their local shoppingeries.
I guess one should never forget that there are still citizens such as myself who loves living in the land of the brown, the l’exotique and the natives.
Why would I want to live somewhere else when I’m living like a fucking queen here?
I have drivers (alright, crappy, dumb drivers), I have maids.
I have Vuitton suitcases and Chanel shades.
I never fly economy
Because I hate the sound of ‘mommy’
I don’t want your fucking jobs
Coz my dry cleaning bills are worth more than your handbag!
There goes my singer/songwriting skills. Now you know why I’ll never make it to the R&B section of your local music store.
It’s true though… I’ll never, ever, ever give up whatever I have here just to live anywhere else.
Going on holidays and vacations are fine, but knock-knock-cliche-snap-snap-reality, there’s no such place like home.
So yeah, if you want me to visit your country, go ahead and write to your government and ask them to friggin waive the visa requirement for model citizens such as myself.
Otherwise screw you cause I’ll only go where the wind blows.
My Pratesi and rivotril are waiting are for me. Good night/morning/afternoon everyone! email@example.com or +63-915-785-1492 if you need me.
Fuck the Playboy Bunny
Oh fuck it.
The Cosmo Magazine Bachelor Bash will start in less than 2 or 3 hours and my gal pal Tina is giving a massage to her beau.
Which means my Playboy bunny ears, tail and black-tie collar piece won’t be done in time.
Screw it. Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck.
I told her last weekend that I wanna come out as a playboy bunny tonight but I guess she had other priorities.
The perils of
living in the third world and not having stores that carry costume props asking favors from friends who have busy schedules.
There’s always a next time.
Fuck dressing up as a playboy bunny.
At next year’s Cosmo bash I’m flying to Thailand to get a friggin sex change, get a pair of tits that can give a pregnant bitch a run for her money and a vagina as tight as a 14 year old’s.
Then I’m going out as a fuckin dominatrix.
Bryanboy Loves… and Random Cheesemax
#1 – Bryanboy loves people from Auckland, NZ, Irvine, CA, La Fiance, France, La Habra, CA, my fans from Dallas, TX and Echterdingen, Germany. I love y’all… each and every one of you. Keep the love coming.
#2 – Oui, Ja, Yes, Si. He of the guilty-and-gay-until-proven-straight homosexual kind was there last night at Jenni Ep’s party lookin good. Gawd. I feel like a fuckin school girl every time I see him at La Embajada.
#3 – I got around 9,400 hits yesterday. I wonder where all of that came from. Keep spreading the word around bitches, a ton of them are from the Netherlands and Venezuela. I love you all.
#4 – Since everyone in the land of the brown and the natives aka Las Islas Filipinas is reading this blog, I’m gonna clean up my site, open up ad space and bombard those folks on dial up with ad torture. Email firstname.lastname@example.org or SMS me at +63-915-785-1492 if you want your ads to be posted here.
#5 – I need another holiday dammit. I wanna go to the beach. It’s been ages since I had maximum sun damage on top of a designer beach towel. I need to get brown and burned, from scalp to toes, on top of my virgin Chanel towel.
#6 – A loyal fan turned my "I wish I’m plastered on fuckin billboards at the freeway" fantasy into a virtual reality. Now if only someone can turn that virtual reality into REAL 50 Feet Tall, 150 Feet Wide billboard I’ll forever be indebted.
#7 – Send more love dammit! Be fucking creative and send your love to Bryanboy@gmail.com. PLEASE AVOID PHOTOSHOP. I only made an exception to Merrill Lynch because the damn company, I’m sure, can’t take photos of all of their employees.
I think that’s all for now. Last night’s party was one of the best parties recently and it better have a part 2.
I need to get dressed. Say hi to me later.
I’m nice and sweet.
Despite what y’all fuckfaced whoring scumbags think.
I love you all.
Protected: Poor & Miserable Creature, The Dee-yor has Landed, Vuitton Spring/Summer ’06, STOP THE HOMOCIDE!, Norwegians Wanted.
Breaking Newsflash: Earthquake in Japan!
Dead Rabbits Society
It’s finally here! I picked up my dead rabbit scarf/shawl/whatever at Vuitton last Friday, right on schedule. The Manila store had to do a special order for me from Paris. Apparently it’s super, super rare. It’s just like it is on the men’s runway except it’s a bit wider… and shorter than what I expected.
Who gives a flying fuck on all the dead rabbits used to create this wonderful, soft, warm piece. PETA can go spill paint all over my ass ala Sprouse, may god bless his soul wherever he is now. I love it though. I’m sure it will go to good use – keep my neck warm during my winter wonderland escapade later this year.
It’s a gorgeous little number that will look good with a plain white tank top or t-shirt, some fitted jeans and a knee-length or above-the-knee beige coat. Fantastic!
Sunday Shopping Fix
I was bored on Sunday afternoon so I called my gal pal Tina and thought we’d meet up to spend some time together.
Went straight to the Chanel counter at Rustan’s and bought Ruban Perle (Moonlight) and Double Perfection Fluide (45 Rose). Also went to Shu Uemura to get a new brush.
Took a quick trip where the clothes are, found nothing interesting but being the shopaholic me, I ended up buying a pair of brown, striped Baby Phat trousers. I know, I know, don’t laugh. Baby Phat is best for 14-16 year old girls in the Bronx but fuck it, the pants looked good on me. I also bought a T-shirt from Spanish designer Muchaha and a top from Anna Sui. All of them are old stock and are on sale.
Super Kawaii Origami
I’ll leave the Art of Origami to the Japanese.
Tina and I had an emergency Sunday craving for crabs (no, not the STD variety) so we decided to rush to The Red Crab restaurant. While waiting for Xeng, I huffed, puffed and folded one of paper placemats to create a paper crab.
Let me tell you in advance that it’s fuckin difficult. I followed the instructions religiously (see below) but my crab ended up as… crap.
After Red Crab, the three of us went to Nuvo for some hot tea and gin tonic.
Sunday was a great day indeed.
Sister’s Hell Hole Office Mates
I was cleaning out my camera because my memory stick is full and god knows how my sister’s office mates got in there. I know she borrows my camera from time to time. Take one good look at these photos.
So these are what British Expats in the third world do eh? Oh. My. God.
At least they aren’t wearing chav scum outfits. Hahahahahaha!
Bryanboy Loves… and Random Cheesemax
Big shout out to my devotees from Singapore and Central Africa – Congo to be exact! Bryanboy loves y’all out there, particularly Gloria M.!
Mademoiselle Celine R. Lopez – don’t I deserve a full color page after the almighty Queen Noor abused my brains? If only you knew how tormenting it was for me to answer questions. My 2 brain cells are as used and abused as a Makati Avenue pick up truck. *grin* Hope to see you soon!
Do designer clothes make you fashionable? Click here. I’d love to see the faces (and the looks) of the people behind their posts.
Here’s a pin I got for about $3 from a Vintage Shop. This message goes out to "he knows who he is". I bet he’s probably getting that mushy, mushy, "yeah I guess I love you too" feeling right now as he’s reading this message. It’s all about you babe – YOU, YOU and YOU.
Don’t deny yourself the fact that I love you. All you need to do is to reciprocate. Tell me you love me too and kiss me the next time you see me, if there will ever be a next time. Otherwise, buy me a Not Rational "Amy" bag for US$475. Click the pic for a larger image.
Whoever you are, wherever you are in the world, send me love via SMS Message at +63-915-785-1492. If you don’t have money to send me SMS, bombard my email account with messages of love, hate and cute guys with note-worthy jewels: Bryanty@gmail.com.
Hairy Mother Fucker
I love Jude Law. Seriously. I think he’s one hot trophy human dildo. But Jesus, look at those legs, especially the upper thighs. I can’t believe he’s one hairy mother fucker… well, I didn’t expect him to be THIS hairy. I bet Sienna AND the Nanny got a damn good flossing that their dentists will be proud of whenever they give this guy a blowjob.
Here’s some Kate eye candy, fresh from British Vogue.
Send A Tip To My Asshole
I got two of these "SendATip" recently and I found both of them quite flattering. Thank you, thank you, whoever you are.
Please identify yourselves so I can send you a Lalique ashtray or a Tiffany & Co. letter opener as a thank you present. If you don’t, I’ll throw them off to my frenemies’ faces.
This SendATip.com website is fun and quaint. It’s a shame I don’t fucking know the email addresses of the people I love (and hate) otherwise I would’ve bombarded them with tips. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Anyway, it’s so fun that I actually sent one to myself.
When it rains it POURS…
Sorry for the lack of personal photos lately. It’s been raining heavily recently and I’m confined indoors, in the deepest corners of my mother’s birdcage. As soon as I have the next opportunity to fly fly fly away, I’ll be sure to post some photos.
And sorry Gian for missing your fluxe it whatever party for the 3rd time in a row.
I was planning to go out yesterday night but the thunder and lightning scared the heck out of me. I guess it really does take a miracle for me to go out on a weekday night.
Spare Change Anyone?
Guess who sent me spare change in the mail? It’s no other than Google!
That’s right folks — Google, the world’s #1 search engine sent me a check enough for a facial (speaking of which, I haven’t had one in quite a long time now) or 3 tubes of lip gloss.
What would YOU do if Google sent you a hundred and one dalmatians (and 36 stray hairs) in the mail?
Big, sloppy kisses to people from Greece! I love you all.
Just recovered from my recent weekend bender and it’s all living la normalite for me again from this point onwards. I also just finished — gasp — eating breakfast.
Saturday was fun! My little swimming party didn’t push thru because I left the house really late and got into the city by 7PM. Who the hell will parade in bathing suits in a hotel pool at that time of the night other than desperate, sex-starved, i’ll-pull-anyone-in-the-pool tourists?
There’s this hotel, New World Renaissance, that I usually stay at on whenever I’m having Saturday Night Fevers. I’m never the type of person who would get out of the club before the sun rises up. And since my parents forbid me to go home at 8 in the morning all looking fucked up, I would rather stay at hotels or at friend’s houses to recuperate.
Anyway, early Saturday night I went window shopping (Bottega, YSL, Gucci, Vuitton, Prada) and then to M Cafe, alone, while waiting for my friends to arrive. Kicked off my night with a light snack — foie gras with green apple tart, a lychee martini, a vodka red bull and a gin tonic before I get dressed.
While waiting for some of my friends to arrive, I rang up Hannah Matronic – the long lost "twin sister" I never had, that I recently "met" online. I thought it would be nice to meet her once and for all. And god, she’s like 4 years younger than me. She had her driver drop her off at my hotel, had a chat and showed her my little lip gloss collection. LOL.
Then Kiko Escora arrived, followed by Tina and Gian. We then went to Cuisine to have dinner. I settled for a salad and some more foie gras. This foie gras craving is the one responsible for me being fat. Ugh!
After Cuisine, we all went to the usual weekend spot, Embassy. I really need to start going to other new places. Each and every weekend everyone ends up at a Embajada one way or another. This Thursday I’ll definitely go to that other place, MDC/Manila DJ Club, where my friends are spinning/throwing yet another a la "Miss Shapes" party.
At La Embajada, Hannah and I hanged out and tak about all sorts of stuff. Heck, we even did some lesbian action just for the camera. Priceless!
Curious how the fuck does Bryanboy get drunk?
Life’s a bitch and we live in an alcoholic world.
We all left the club at around 5 or 6 or so in the morning and thought it would be fantastic to take some shots and play pictionary. Thanks June/Jun for the brilliant shots.
Post-partying, we all went back to the hotel and spent about 6 or 7 hours gossipping and chatting. Imsomnia galore at its finest. I slept for about 2 hours cause god damn Gian won’t stop waking me up. Hah! I checked out at about 4PM and Tina, Gian and Ignacio (just like the old days) went to Masas for some good ol Filipino food – food food food.
(Thanks, Ignacio Loyola, for the pics)
On a different note, I thought I’d let you in on my
You see, i-D Magazine, ShowStudio and Nick Knight had this little "Bring and Buy" project where people send in some of their outfits that they’ll sell for charity. I sent in my entry, an Issey Miyake hoodie back on July 21st. The deadline is today, July 25th. I checked the FedEx website and my parcel of love is now in London, ready for delivery today.
Here’s my little parcel of love:
I hope they like my entry. My entry is nothing compared some of the stuff they already receive. But hey, who knows eh? Anything for chariteeeeeeeee.
I’ll keep you guys posted later. As always, I love you all.
Welcome to the fantastic third world, Manila, Philippines!