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.
Breaking News: ANNA WINTOUR
Oh my god. American Vogue Anna Wintour went to the advanced private screening of The Devil Wears Prada (the movie) at the St. Regis Hotel on Tuesday night with her daughter, Bee Shaffer.
Guess what? She wore Prada. I LOVE Nuclear Wintour!!!
From New York Post’s Page Six
ANNA Wintour has a sense of humor, but there are limits. The icy Vogue editrix accepted Meryl Streep’s invitation to Tuesday’s screening of "The Devil Wears Prada" – which she wore – but avoided posing for a photo with Streep, who plays an icy fashion magazine editrix in the film. Wintour bolted from the Paris Theatre with her entourage as soon as the credits rolled, skipping the dinner and charity auction at the St. Regis. Wintour, whose entourage included boyfriend Shelby Bryant, daughter Bee Shaffer, and Dixon and Arianna Boardman, "thought the movie was very funny," said her spokesman, who also said Wintour never planned on staying for dinner. One insider denied Wintour purposely avoided posing with Streep, who had never met Wintour before publicist Peggy Siegal introduced them.
"It was so chaotic, we couldn’t set up the shot," said our source. In the chaos were Streep’s castmates Anne Hathaway, Stanley Tucci and Bridget Hall, plus News Corp. president Peter Chernin and 20th Century Fox co-chair Tom Rothman. Martha Stewart, in the elevator after ward, said, "Wow! Who ever had a boss like that?" Silence.
Did you know Anna Wintour’s got a son? His name is Charles (Charlie) Shaffer. According to my fag buddy Mauricio he looks gay. I think he looks fugly. Non? Nothing worse than a fugly fag if you ask me. No wonder’s leashing out to everyone in the fashion world. He’s got a weird-looking fag son.
I don’t mind sucking his cock for a couple of nights though.
Imagine having Anna as your mother-in-law.
All the FREEEEEEE clothes and accessories!
Charlie Shaffer photo courtesy of Style.com
Click here to read more about the Advancec Screening of The Devil Wears Prada from Rush & Molloy of the New York Daily News.
I REALLY can’t wait to see this film! That’s it… I’m gonna sleep now. It’s 9:32AM for god’s sake!
Meet Andrés, an 18 year old guy from Argentina. I HATE YOU YOU FUCKING SKINNY BITCH! I AM SO GONNA SMOKE CRACK AND CRYSTAL METH ONE DAY AND BE SKINNIER THAN YOU.
I love you though cause you sent me an I love Bryanboy sign pic.
Fuck the haters. You know who you are. Jealousy and envy breeds malice my dear. Hahaha! All around the world, from far away places and faraway lands… everyone loves BRYANBOY!
I hope no more nightmares for me today. God forbid if Anna Wintour tells me I’m fat in my dreams. Hah!
PS. Discuss this blog post here.
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 email@example.com 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.
PS. Discuss this blog post here.
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.
PS. Discuss this blog post here.
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.
PS. Discuss this blog post here.
"Everybody wants to be us."
Lookie lookie at what I found on the internet earlier. It’s a trailer of The Devil Wears Prada.
So far so good. I like the movie already!!! My favourite line? EVERYBODY WANTS TO BE US.
Hahahahah! Classic. I LOOOOOVE IT.
I suddenly had this huge burst of mental images in my head!
MySpace faggots hear ye hear ye. That "Everybody wants to be us" line is going to be MY line of the year!
I can totally picture myself as a nasty, catty, bitchy, self-centered, delusional, egotistical, so-full-of-me-me-me-and-no-one-but-me Mean Girls (Regina George) queen bee-type of person saying that line (over and over and over) to my latest fledgling minions.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! I can’t wait to see this movie.
Screw Anna Wintour. I know I love her dearly but I like Carine Roitfeld (Vogue Paris Editor-in-Chief) more. Carine is amazing.
She’s extremely edgy and chic, she has impeccable taste, she’s got a fuck all fuck you attitude on things and she seems lively and fun.
BryanBoy: i really wanna see carine roitfeld and anna wintour go into a fight and then carine take over american vogue
mauricio: they won’t, they love each other
BryanBoy: they do???
mauricio: haha no. they can’t stand the sight of each other. that’s why they’re never in pictures together
Oooooh I want to be just like her when i get older.
She’s got 2 children, Julia and Vladimir Restoin. I like Julia.
I think she’s pretty… and she used to date Starving Nachos. The Vladimir guy looks like a vampire. Too gothic-looking. Maybe it’s the poor quality of the scan. He sorta looks like Olivier Theyskens in this photo.
My favourite Carine quote: "Black? ‘It’s finished.’ Leather? ‘No good as you get older.’ Jewellery? ‘I hate watches. I never wear these things.’ Thongs? ‘Before I love strings. Now I hate strings.’ Handbags? ‘You can wear a completely transparent shirt and show all the breasts – I don’t care. But I prefer to have my hands in my pocket than to have a nice little bag. So I am not good for all these fashions. They have to sell bags, bags, bags, bags, bags, bags. I hate handbags.’"
Click here to read the full article from the Daily Telegraph.
Bryanboy Loves… and Random Cheesemax
#1 – I’ll keep this entry short and sweet. It’s 7:10AM and I’m knackered to the bone. I’m gonna sleep in a bit cause I have to wake up early in the afternoon… I’m gonna go to my aestheticians and get myself pampered.
#2 – Bryanboy loves people from Gibraltar, Irvine, CA, Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada, Svartskog, Norway, Seould, Korea, Atlanta, GA, Perth, Australia, Tampere, Finland (where the hell is this???), Dublin, Ireland, Orrius, Cataluna Spain, Kaarina, Finland, Pico Rivera, CA, Durham, NC, Tulsa, OK, Pasadena, CA, Nueva York, Chiapas, Mexico, Juprelle, Belgium and of course, all the fabulous people from Kingston, Jamaica. I love each and every one of you. Say hi faggots, don’t be shy!
#3 – It’s been quite awhile since I posted your renditions of the infamous Bryanboy pose. I’m gonna create a photo album with all your images sometime this week. Just give me time.
By the meantime, take a look at these photos. You’re all adorable and I love the photos!!!
Kate from Illinois
Francis from the Philippines
Hannah and Judy
Someone who wants to remain anonymous…
…and of course, Tatiana from France.
Send me more photos assholes! Be creative! Have fun! Be spontaneous! I want pictures of you doing the ‘pose’ or you holding an I LOVE BRYANBOY sign. You know where to send them. Email firstname.lastname@example.org.
# 4 – Speaking of Stavros, oh my god. He looks really rough and dirty. Eeek!!
#5 – Lookie lookie on who stole my Fendi spy! Isn’t it great how she lost weight? The face is still flat out fat though. As soon as she sorts out that chin she’ll forever remain OBESE in my books.
I loooove the image change. Give yourself a good pat on the back sweetie!
#6 – Tora B from Los Angeles emailed me a photo of that Bobby Trendy character. I have NO words. HAHAHAHAHA! Take a look at his skin… and the clothes. My oh my!
So this is what "FAAAAAAAAAAABULOUS" looks like. Oh dear.
#7 – Ooooo. Look at what I got via email!! Isn’t it loverly?
I think that’s all for now. I’ll update later in the afternoon.
I love you all as always. Email email@example.com or SMS +63-915-785-1492.
PS. Discuss this blog post here.