Freeloaders Galore

The answer is NO! I’m *NOT* going to charge a fee for you to read my blog. Not now, not tomorrow and definitely not in near future. No, no, no, never, ever, ever, ever, ever, infinity, ever. *

And no, I am *NOT* going to put a password for you to read my entries on Bryanboy.com either. I really don’t understand where that came from – I received 161 emails (PLUS all the comments on my blog) from people telling me not to charge a fee.

* except for my members-only area

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Mail Call: Imelda Marcos Collection, NYC and How do I go to Alaska?

Parisians aren’t the only ones who mail postcards inside envelopes… Nueva Yorkers do it as well.

Postcard from Thomasco

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Weekend Bender

OMG. I think I’m destined to be a matron.

I finally had the chance to wear my nice, new (well it’s vintage so whatever) sweater that I got from "I Love You Store". It’s sooo cute. I really really really love it. I was looking at some of my weekend photos and thought "damn, I look like someone familiar."

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Gawd…

What a night! I’m still nursing a fucking hangover. I’ll update in a few hours when I get back.

SO STOP IT WITH THE EMAILS ASKING FOR AN UPDATE. IT’S SOOO NOT FUNNY WAKING UP TO OVER 350 EMAILS ASKING FOR MY LATEST BLOG ENTRY. DON’T GET ME WRONG, I LOOOVE GETTING EMAILS BUT I’M NOT GOING ANYWHERE SO THERE….

Ugh. I think I’m on a funk so ignore me. Hahaha! How can you not be on a funk when you ate this thing at three o’clock in the fucking morning.

I’m going straight to hell. SMS me god dammit! +63.915.785.1492. I love you all!

Obsession du Jour: Imelda Marcos

Ugh. I am soo going out in a few hours. I need to burn major calories after all that nonsense bingeing I did over the past couple of days. I ate so much shit I’ve lost track of whatever it is I ate. I hate the fact that I don’t have inhibitions whatsoever when it comes to eating… I’ll shove it down my throat provided it’s edible.

I had dinner with Dr. Babaran (of Belo Westgate) the other night at one of my favourite places, the French Corner.

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"I don’t care!" – Yeah, Cheers, Thanks a lot. (Season 2)

I have three words: Tragedy. Casualty. Disaster.

Oh dear. I tottttttttttttttalllyy did it again. Yes!!! I totally had a "yeah, cheers, thanks a lot" moment. This is exactly why I could never have a career in television. I was crap!

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Don’t shoot the messenger.

It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it? NOT! I don’t even know where to begin. How’s this for starters?

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Blame it on the weather.

[Bryanboy's note: I recommend that you download this track and listen to it while you're reading this blog entry. We all love a bit of drama and everyone knows good drama requires good sound effects. Now sing after me: I can't sleep. I can't speak to you. I can't sleep.]

It’s raining bullets here in the third world, my flu’s gone but I still have a cold. I’m telling you, it’s been a slow recovery. I’ll be fine though. I know I will.

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking over the past few days and I have this funny feeling at the back of my head telling me I should pack my bags, run away, hop on a plane, move somewhere and start a new life from scratch, erasing all traces of the old/current "me".

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