Protected: Aiming for Anorexia: The Official Bryanboy “DYING TO BE THIN” Diet and Faggotry in Motion #004
Delay Delay Delay
A big hello to all of you. I know I haven’t updated much in the past two days. I’ve been terribly, terribly busy. Plus, my colds and cough are still here. I’m fine though –
don’t you dare thanks for worrying about me. your thoughts of sympathy are good but I need a new Chanel bag.
Unfortunately, I started smoking again. Yesterday, to be exact… after a 6-day lung holiday.
Save the lung cancer sermon – I don’t need it. In fact, shove this imagery up your buttocks if you want. I look forward to the day when my lungs turn pitch black.
Err, ok, I take that back.
I’ll stop smoking. I promise.
I look forward to the day I turn 75 – at least I’ll get to wear Oscar de la Renta.
Going back to business, my god, I’m soo anxious to see what my best friend Kelly’s offspring are gonna be.
I actually know what they are already. (DUH)
It’s just that I can’t reveal them until Friday night. That’s what I said on the invite.
Everyone knows that patience is a word that does NOT exist in my vocabulary. A pretentious parrot such as myself will never, ever, voluntarily shut his mouth for a few days to stop himself from bragging.
Keeping this secret from each and everyone of you is nothing but pure torture!
I think y’all gonna die if you knew what’s inside those two eggs. I’ll give you a couple of hints:
- they’re both brown
- one of them has some of the world’s most exotic skins
- one of them is bigger than the other
- one of them can fit inside the other
I know it’s already quite obvious from those two pictures but please gargle and swallow that man cream cum like a proper whore so you won’t ruin it for everyone else.
Besides, it could be an iguana or a ferret.
You never know.
Keep an eye out on Friday, October 7, 2005.
And yes, I know what you’re thinking. Shut IT. Oh yes. Just STOP, STOP, STOP looking at my arms and my bulging stomach. I know I’m BALLOONING to UNBELIEVABLE PROPORTIONS. It’s hard being a surrogate mother. Contrary to what people think, I will never, ever, ever accept that dirty rumor our ancestors said over time. I REFUSE TO ACCEPT THAT the "joys of motherhood" is worth all that excess flesh and stretch marks that motherhood brings. That’s all bollocks, I’m telling you.
I’m not even a real mother yet I already have stretch marks.
Bah! I won’t dig my own grave any further. What would my future grandchildren think if they read this blog in year 2080 and see that I admitted having stretch marks on a public domain?
Louis Vuitton Goodies
Yesterday was quite productive. I accomplished a ton of stuff – went to my usual haunt in Greenbelt, enjoyed a huge lunch with my gal pal Tina. As always, I enjoyed our our favorites – baked oysters, foie gras with green apple tart, duck confit, green mango and prawns salad.
Picked up a few things at Louis Vuitton – bought a bag strap and a bracelet. My special orders from Paris also arrived – my ski bonnet and my fur gloves.
This Thing About My Age
Stop this ludicrous commotion about my age – all of you!
Since when did a number became so important in your backwater swamp gossip talks? Heck, the only set of numbers that are important to me is the number of unfortunate guys I’ve slept with, my American Express card number and of course, the number of times I ask my maid to fetch me a glass of water each and every day.
Let me clarify this once and for all.
I’m too old to be a runway model in Milan, too young to be a pensioner, too old to be a pedophile’s sexual prey, too young to be a parent (of any kind), too old to be barely legal.
In other words, I’m….
cha-chin,. cha-ching, cha-ching
However, I’ll leave it up to YOUR imagination on how many ++ (plus plus) you’d like to add to that age.
Have you guys forgotten my annual 18th birthday party this year when i failed dressing up like a proper
bloke on knickers ladyboy?
Now as for that special someone at the LVLU discussion forums who thought I’m 17 years old…
Well, I wouldn’t call you special for nothing.
Let’s leave it at that.
I’ve been thinking of going dropping by Tallinn, Estonia (and Riga, Latvia) mid-trip on my Russian holiday. Like most countries, I need a fucking visa to go to that "Nouveaux-Euro" country. One of their visa requirements is the fact that I need to have some invitation to visit their country, even as a tourist.
Blah blah blah Kabbalah.
Unfortunately, there are no Estonian embassies in South East Asia so I have to fedex my passport and visa application to some far-flung place (i.e. USA).
I’m just waiting a response from their immigration people to see what they have to say.
2 names baby.
Carmen Kass and Tiiu Kuik.
If that country can export fine specimen such as those two, I’m curious on what they have in store over there.
Grocery shopping you ask?
Believe it or not, I had my first ever encounter with someone Estonian yesterday. We exchanged quite a few messages and he seems to be nice.
Hold the malicious thoughts right there. All we did is talked about friggin Estonia.
I’ll keep you posted in the next few weeks to come whether or not I’m going to Tallinn as well.
Bryanboy Loves… and Random Cheesemax
#1- Bryanboy loves people from Zaventem, Belgium, Reading, MA, Wellers Hill, Queensland, Australia, Pennsauken, NJ, Saint Paul, MN, Woodhaven, NY, Piedmont, CA and of couse, people from Manila, Philippines. Identify yourselves, bitches – Bryanboy loves each and everyone of you.
#2 – People from Finland are talking about me. God knows what they are talking about though – and I don’t care. It’s nice to get some attention from the far north. Click here to read the thread on some discussion forum. Big brownie points if you can understand what the hell they are talking about. Hello Finland!!!!
#3 – Jesus, the heat here is FUCKING killing me. I’ve got my airconditioning set to the coldest temperature it’s capable of but the heat seeps through our fucking roof – yes, we have third world roofing. We’re poor!
#4 – The Kate Moss cocaine video is out. Let’s all put this issue down to rest shall we?
More upates later. Promise!
As always, you know where to contact me… +63-915-785-1492 or email@example.com.
Forgive me father for I have sinned.
I admit. I’m not the type of person who usually watches TV. I refuse to have a TV set in my room. I’m so anti-TV. I like to shelter myself from the evils of cheap, commercial culture for the masses. The television is for people who cannot entertain themselves by doing "normal" stuff. The only time I’ll make an exception is whenever I watch a movie (DVD) or when Paris Hilton is there (that’s not watching TV… that’s getting education) or whenever I watch CNN.
For the past 3 weeks now, I found myself watching the TV more and more. Normal TV shows for normal people. I’d say I now spend around 1 hour a day watching TV. Although yes, you will never see me sit in front of the damn set for 30 consecutive minutes, I’ve discovered all sorts of shows… and commercials.
There’s this one commercial that has been all over the place – McDonald’s Beef Prosperity chu chu thing. I swear it’s on every 5 minutes whatsoever.
I have a love-hate relationship with McD’s. Generally, I despise em. After all, McD’s is to blame for all the god-forsakened fat people all over the world. McD’s is pretty much the mecca of all fatdommeccas: this is where the word FAT got invented.
Anyway, look at Asians as an example.
For years, we have been stereotyped as the chinky-eyed, short shorty midget-y, submissive, fuckwhoring bitches to dirty-old-hairy-fat-white-trash gorillas.
While Asian females are fantasized upon as real,
live, human sex toys, Asian males fall into 2
categories: either you’re a kung-fu flighting, black-
belted, ching chong man ala <insert Asian action
person here> or the short yet lanky straight-A
But ever since McDonald’s invaded the continent decades ago, things have changed.
Whenever I go out to the scene these days, there’s an abundance of tall Asian kids. I’m just as tall as my brother, and I’m 5’9. He’s 15 years old and still growing… and no doubt he’ll be taller than me. The heights 5’11 and 6-foot is starting to become extremely common. Fine… perhaps the odd 6-foot-7 male types are still rare here but everyone seems to be tall these days… particularly the young ones. Heck, I even know 2 girls who are at least 6-foot tall. And yes, they’re Filipino natives… originally from rural areas.
And there’s only one reason to blame. McDonald’s.
So yeah — this Beef Prosperity commercial made a huge impact in this household. Everyone had seen it for god knows how many times. The total airtime it had in our heads is probably longer than a 180-minute movie.
Early this afternoon, my mom, my sister and I had enough. Right after watching yet another commercial, we all had this desperate craving churning in our stomachs.
We didn’t even bothered to beautify ourselves. Usually, we’ll never step out of the house gate wearing house clothes. It is a must for us to look our very best even if we are stepping out a mere 2 inches outside the house. Today was an exception — to hell with taking a shower, spending 2 hours on what to wear, etc… we just have to taste the nectar of that that well-publicized Beef Prosperity thing.
Wearing plain house clothes and armed with the Visa card, all three of us asked the driver to bring us to the nearest McDonald’s, about 5 minutes from our house.
My mom stayed inside the car while my sister and I went in. I swear to god, going inside the doors of McDonald’s was like entering the gates of hell… errr a frying pan. My brain was filled with mental images of lard and frying oil.
I had intense hallucinations that I’m turning into the Nutty Professor, with the Ronald McDonald’s mascot giving me the fuck-you finger.
As we arrived to the counter, we placed our order.
* 8 Beef Prosperity Burgers (2 for me, 2 for my mom, 1 for my sister Grace, 1 for my brother, 1 for my other sister Genie and 1 for our driver)
* 1 Double Cheese Burger (for my sister Grace)
* 2 Large French Fries (for Grace and me)
* 1 Large Twister Fries (for Grace and my mom)
* 2 x 6-piece Chicken Nuggets (for Genie and me)
* 1 Oreo McFlurry (for Grace and my mom)
* 1 Large Coke
The verdict: Beef Prosperity burger was a complete disappointment. It had bad odour.
As soon as you unwrap the thing, it reeked of
this onion smell (because of the onions), similar to
sweaty, filthy armpits of Eurotrash people.
Also, there was way too much pepper on it. Beef prosperity indeed — it was prosperous with spices you’d think it came all the way from India from the Tsunami.
I know I’m not supposed to be making sensitive jokes after 100,000+ people died but seriously, they should’ve named this the Tsunami Leftover. The burger must be one of those things that reached our shores.
The only good thing that came out of this mini trip to McDonald’s was the fact that I bought one of those happy-meal child toys for $1.03 (58 Filipino bucks).
My sister and I have been looking for big, fuzzy cellphone charms that you can hook at the bottom of your cellphone. Currently, I have a small cat thing I got from a flea market. I used to have the $75 Gucci handbag cellphone charm but I lost it in Moscow. And now I want a bigger, fuzzy doll-like cellphone charm.
Both of us fell in love with the mini stuffed toys the first time we saw them at the counter. There’s about 18 of them I think. I got the gold monkey while my sister bought the pink pig. They’re kinda cute-ish. But alas, they didn’t fit my phone.
Oh. my. god.
My mother recently bought this digital weighing scale and she asked me to try it out. It’s been ages since I last weighed myself and I think I got a bit skinnier after going through 6 lipodissolve sessions (on my stomach and arms) before I left for my holiday.
Imagine genuine shock and horror when I found out my true weight.
A staggering onehundredtwentyfuckingnine pounds. At fivefuckingfeetnine short.
Never in my life I have been so obese. Ever. I have always thought I’m in the 110-117 pound range. Perhaps the digital scale was a cheat? Perhaps it’s the breakfast I just had? All I had on was a cotton t-shirt and boxer shorts.
That’s it. I’m really taking the Reductil pills I’ve been keeping. I stopped taking them yesterday because reading the insert made me freak out… I only took 2 capsules so far, one on Sunday and one on Monday.
Before I left for Moscow, my doctor told me it would be nice to meet up with her after my trip so we can "catch up" on things…. and now I’m terribly ashamed because I think I gained weight.
Ugh. I’m sooooo pissed at myself it’s not even funny.