The typhoon, rain and all, being stuck in traffic for 2 hours inside the car from 2:38PM – 4:52PM, didn’t stop me from going out yesterday afternoon. I was utterly bored inside the house to the point where I’m just fucking desperate.
I have a love-hate relationship with rain. I love it because in some ways, it acts like a temporary pain reliever to the 34-degree celsius heat we people in the tropics have. I hate it because it’s, well, rain. Wet clothes, wet shoes, water droplets falling from the sky, wet everything.
Thank god someone rescued me from boredom and sent me a text message. An hour or so later, I dressed up, got into the car and went to a mall. I spent some time in a coffee shop discussing a possible project with a director before I met up with my gal pal Tina Daniac.
Then we had some oysters (yum) and looked around for stuff. Tina’s just moved to a new, bigger house and she was looking for some household chu-chu crap: we went to a Home Depot-like store called True Value.
I ended up buying a new optical mouse for my PC at an electronics shop because my wireless one had failed me – again. We stayed at the mall until 9PM or so before going to her new house.
Saguijo, M Cafe
After Tina’s, we went to this place called "Saguijo". I’ve heard of this place a TON of times in the past. I’ve always wanted to check it out because some of the people I know go there… but then again, some of my friends have been THERE and they didn’t like the crowd.
Anyway, it’s this apartment-like thing where there’s a non-smoking bar, a patio where people can smoke, a store called "I Love You" and a little exhibit room. Most of the crowd’s a bit on the indie/alternative/grungie bungie side so it’s definitely something different. A band called "Drip" (whom I don’t really know/haven’t heard of) was supposed to be playing there last night. Someone even gave me a flyer for an event called "Rockestra": perhaps you can make your own conclusions from there.
It’s funny cause Tina and I went there just to take a look at the store (being the shopaholics that we are) but we didn’t expect to see Tesa (who, btw, just *ugh* so pretty) and Carlos Celdran the moment we got there. Said our HIs and Hellos and chatted a little. Check out http://www.celdrantours.blogspot.com.
Saguijo’s alright. Perhaps not my usual scene but it’s refreshing to go to different places from time to time.
Tina and moi went to a nearby ATM machine and to Makati Medical Hospital to buy Xanax. We went to 3 drugstores all over Makati, which is a different area from where I live and as usual, the damn thing is sold out, that makes it a grand total of 8 fucking FARMacies who don’t carry my wonder drug.
What can I say… I guess there are far too many similar and deranged people in the third world.
And I’m just one of them. Har har.
Our final stop for the night was our usual haunt, M Cafe. We were starving and was hoping to have a proper, full meal but little did we know that there was a crowd/friday night thingie going on there. Saw some of our friends, Ronald Passion (who made me want to go to Thailand now for the full moon parties), Steve, Kiko Escora, etc. I ended up having a couple vodka red bulls, foie gras and green apple tart.
I ended up going home at around 2AM, which, to be honest, is FUCKING EARLY, in my standards. But then again it was a Friday… a weekday, my lungs were killing me and I feel sort of sick.
It’s my granddad’s (dad’s side) first year death anniversary today and we’re gonna go for late lunch at my grandma’s. He’s the only granddad that I’ve known (my other granddad died back in the 70′s… I was just eggs on my mum’s body) and he was a courageous, generous and loving man. I miss my grandpa to bits, I love him and I hope he’s happy wherever he is right now.
Here’s a picture of my grandpa’s hands inside his coffin a year ago.
People from Washington DC, people from Hartford, CT, people from Toronto and Montreal, Canada, people from Athens, Greece (yes, again… too many Greek fans emailing me), people from Tel Aviv, Israel (oh my) and people from Istanbul, Turkey.
As always, email me and show me some love – firstname.lastname@example.org.
P.S. I’m going out tonight, despite me not feeling well. Ugh! I’ll update when I get back tomorrow.
7:04AM and I just got back home from a new friend’s "dinner party" for one of my friends..
Yes, without our driver. Yes, without my sister. And yes, I had to take public transportation in the form of a taxi cab without my hardcore sunglasses to protect me from the perils and the devastating rays of morning sunlight.
It was a long journey home, I’d say 45 minutes to an hour, on my own, trying to keep my eyes open inside of the cab while drinking orange juice, staring at the window all the time.
It’s almost always like this.
Well, not the cab scenario — I couldn’t remember the last time I took a cab, but still.
"Always like this" in the sense where I have to go home all lonely and just.. let’s just say the meds my shrink that prescribed me doesn’t work. Seroxat my fucking asshole.
Don’t even mention the D-word.
I am NOT D____________ and I refuse to acknowledge that I am D______.
Well, not that I know of.
Maybe I am, in a way, but to be honest, my problems are NOTHING and PETTY compared to, say, people with cancer, or whatever.
C’est la vie eh?
I had 2 outfits for the night – I showed up overdressed in gucci + rabbit fur + faux pearls cause it’s raining but I had to change, after a couple of hours, to an old Dior t-shirt cause it was hot… and I wouldn’t want to take a cab in full-blown "there you have it" outfit.
The dinner was fun. At first it was so-so because there was a lot of people there.
Then it became more intimate. Close friends and all, which was fun.
Saw quite a few of my friends – big shout out to everyone and say hi ;)
I told myself, no more alcohol and stuff. But I just have to give in.
Gawd, I just couldn’t give up, considering it was only saturday that I got drunked to the bone.
And it was a Monday night for god’s sake!
It’s a MIRACLE for me to go out on a weekday. Seriously. I’m usually confined to my mother’s birdcage but she had to make an exception cause it was one of my friend’s birthday. Oh well.
But after this… ugh. God knows what happens next.
I guess I have to deal with it.
I’m supposed to be young, carefree, irresponsible and stuff.
But as each day comes, I’m dealing with restrictions. limitations. etc. I feel there’s a nagging voice inside my head that says I’m doing too much.
I need to sleep. I’ll sleep for a few hours and I’ll wake up impossibly fresh-looking and, erm, whatever.
Good night my readers and I’ll talk to you soon.
P.S. Big shout out to people from the Philippine Daily Inquirer, Philippine Star (Newspaper), Summit Media, Preview Magazine, people from Miami, FL and people from Miscrosoft. I love you all!
Identify yourselves bitches and send me an email. email@example.com.
Ra Ra Rasputin Lover of Bryan da Kween
Moscow, Russia, here we go!
I’ve booked my plane tickets from Hong Kong to Moscow, roundtrip, business class (they don’t have first class on the plane). Apparently it’s only US$1,849 return with American Express. It’s soo cheap and it’s about the same price as the Dior boots I’ve been salivating on.
I figured this time I’ll stop at Hong Kong again to do some last minute major winter wonderland wardrobe shopping: – must visit Cavalli. Must visit the soon-to-open Harvey Nichols Hong Kong. Must visit Etro. Must visit Dior. Must visit Valentino. Must visit Fendi. Must visit I-T. Must visit IFC mall. Must visit Landmark. Ugh. Names, names, names, labels, labels, labels. My head is spinning thinking about the opportunities. I’m a fashion victim, label junkie and a lunatic.
Someone please hand me my xanax before I burst into flames.
Speaking of Russia, gone are the days where my tight Asian hoover vaccuum hole gets filled with Aryan sperm cells enough to lift off a thousand mixed raced cosmonauts into outer space, no matter how good, warm, moist, wet, mushy it feels inside.
After my HIV scare (click here to read more about it) and surviving it STD-free and HIV-negative, I promise this time I won’t have unsafe sex with the Russians. The 3-4 month waiting period was the worst mind fuck I ever had.
But then again, to think about it, I ended up being negative.
I should’ve enjoyed the moment and get fucked by as much as I can.
Why I’m a Fantastic Travel Buddy
So what are you waiting for? I can be a good travel buddy. Here are the reasons why I’m the best travel buddy. Expect fun, expect the unexpected. Just don’t expect Claire Daines being arrested for drug possession in Bangkok like in the movies. I’m not one of those Euro Trash Bohemian Junkies who will tell you to carry their bag for them when in reality it’s filled with kilos of heroin.
* I won’t be selfish when it comes to bathroom sink space
* I won’t bring excessive amounts of luggage
* I promise to keep my luggage under the 150 kilo mark, which is roughly about 230 pounds
* I never take any illegal substances with me
* I won’t argue with you when it comes to the remote control
* I won’t induce pillow fights
* I won’t let you stay awake when I couldn’t sleep
* I won’t wake you up when I get up earlier than you
* I won’t invite boys back to our room without your permission.
* I won’t come home 5AM drunk, drugged, fucked or drugfucked
* I promise to only limit myself to 2 hours in "getting ready" to go out (which usually takes me 3-4 hours minimum)
* I’ll let you shower first I won’t sing in the shower
* I won’t touch any of your toiletries or your makeup
* I usually treat people with alcohol at bars/clubs when I’m drunk
* I’m not a thieving bitch. That’s because I probably have more spending power than you.
* I’m nice and sweet. I’m not an asshole, no matter whatever you heard/read from the rumor mill
That’s a lot of effort on my part already. Oi!
Safe Sex Only Kids…
Seriously kids, stick with the condoms, the dental dams, the vagina condoms, the spermicide and everything. Just play it safe kiddies so you won’t catch anything. What would everyone think if you die from an STD? That you were a careless slut? Just imagine the backtalk going on while your coffin is being buried 6 feet under the ground.
"Oh I can’t believe he was such a dirty sex slut."
Which I’m not.
I haven’t had sex in like 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 months?
Heck, the next time I have sex, I’l even bring a magnifying glass and a flashlight with me and hell, I’ll do a CSI-type search on someone’s crotch to see if there are any infestations of crabs, syphillis and herpes before I even do the bad deed.
I don’t want to be like Katie Holmes.
Not even the thickest concealer, Dermablend, can hide facial volcanoes eruptus such as THAT.
And then there’s UNWANTED pregnancy. Screw having a sexually-transmitted disease. Let’s say you’re both clean. But, but, but, but, what if you ended up having an unwanted spawn? Think of the stretch marks you’ll get! A couple of stretch marks are already bad enough (trust me, I know), but an entire tummy full of it — there goes the slinky Eres bathing suits you’ve been lusting for….
Loves make the world go round. And there’s no other way to spread the love by sending it to my email account, firstname.lastname@example.org or making comments on my blog.
The London Pop Trash Kid sent me a really fantastic photoshop gift via MSN Messenger. Enjoy!
A reader from one of the world’s best cities sent me a nice little online Hallmark card. How sweet of you, thank you, thank you, thank you very much from the narcotics-filled upper arteries of my heart.
Now that I know where you work for, do you have gorgeous, hot, fit, tall-ish but not that tall, investment bankers or analyst officemates, in nice black suits, earning $250,000 or more per year? Let me know and I’ll give them a good pipe cleaning for free.
Bryanboy loves TR3NT of PinkistheNewBlog. Yes, yes, he ran out of TR3NT stickers but to hail his highness, I had to copy/paste a trent thingie majigie on my graphics program.
Bryanboy also loves people from Anchorage, Alaska (I don’t know the state abbreviation), people from Osaka, Japan, people from Finland, people from McKinney-Silver and people who use Sympatico as their ISP in Canada.
Identify yourselves you cockroaches by posting a comment or emailing me.
As always minions, you know where to contact me. email@example.com.
I’m gonna take my poop now. Call of nature babes.
It’s this 1 thing that’s got me trippin
It’s this 1 thing that’s got me trippin
Yes, Bryanboy was watching CNN just now… and waves *hello* to Max Foster.
Bah. While waiting for John & Jessica’s trash book recommendation from Amazon.com, I popped by my local bookstore yesterday night after consuming a 12 ounce steak at my mom’s birthday dinner party.
Yep folks, that’s right. 12 ounces of whatever steak. I had so much calories yesterday from the soup, from the salad, from the vegies, from the meat, from the skewered thingies I shared with my dad, the prawn thing I nibbled on etc.
All that calorification is enough to put
the entire population of Ethiopia to obesity.
As soon as I got home, I downed my benzos to knock me off. I don’t even want to think how I’m gonna digest the damn thing considering I was almost PUKING when I got out of the Steak House.
Anyway, there wasn’t anything to buy in the bookstore so I decided to stock up on a couple of trash mags. They’ve ran out of V. They’ve ran out of W. They’ve ran out of Wallpaper*. They’ve ran out of British Vogue, which is the only Vogue I like. The August Philippine Tatler ain’t out yet.
So I settled for Hello, In Touch, Star, American Vogue, American Elle and 2 books: The Hookup Handbook (A Single Girl’s Guide to Living It Up) and My Friend Leonard.
Don’t you just love it when Bryanboy is IN TOUCH with his lower middle class roots?
Calling Dr. Love
I love fan mail. I really do. I read and reply to them as many as possible when I have the time. That’s because I love each and everyone of you. Heck, if only I could give you sexual favours, I would. But you know I live in the third world and it pretty much involves a plane ride on seat 2A to meet up with y’all.
Yes, I’ve only had 4 long-term relationships/ex-boyfriends. Yes, I’ve slept with around 390 males from Reykjavik to Bangkok and Moscow to Bali, most of them recorded on my Smythson of Bond Street litte black book. And yes, I’ve been with 7 females.
However, may I request that you avoid asking me questions about love and relationships? Well, I don’t mind them. Seriously. But when I get advice ala Teen/YM Magazine, my head goes into a rush and it pretty much drives my mere 2 brain cells crazy.
On that note, meet Julia. She sent me the following email. Actually, that’s just one of it. The rest of it were pretty much "forwarded" emails between her and the guy. Take a peek at what she sent me. Julia, I hope you don’t mind. Why settle for one opinion (mine) when you can possibly have many?
So my dear blog readers, help this young ‘un out. You know you want to.
Julia my dear, here’s my advice: DITCH HIM. Stop talking to him. Get him out of your system. Have you not heard of the saying "purge, purge, purge"? You shouldn’t be the one quasi-begging guys to get serious with you, it should be the other way around. IMO, I think he’s just a mind fuck. Stop dealing with people who clearly don’t know what they want.
You know what I do with mind fucks? I flush them out of my system like I flush evian (I only use evian) when I douche.
Sorry if I come across as harsh but I think that’s the best advice I can give my dear.
Fluxe it! Whatever
Thursday nights at the Manila DJ Club at Fort Bonifacio, Global City. It’s right across shell and 7-11. Music by Spoonmao, Adrian Cuenca and guest DJs.
If you’re in the cesspit of the Third World, Manila, Philippines, please pop by tomorrow for some electro/pop/punk/rock/80s/kitsch fun. I’m going there tomorrow and I still don’t have an outfit!
When I went to Hong Kong, I discovered (and bought) a couple of pieces from a Japanese Young Designer called "Tatsuro Ito". He got this thing about customizing bags with patches from Charlie Brown/Snoopy Etc, add crystals and faux gems, etc. I bought his take on the good ol Birkin but sadly, I’ve used it once. I found no use for it because the straps are kind shoulder-lengthy and you know how I only like HAND bags. Shoulder bags are just too… erm… feminine.
This bag has 6 patches on it, crystals, a sequined applique. It’s made of gray, distressed, curduroy-like denim with houndstooth-like prints. The photos doesn’t do it justice, however it’s gorgeous. If I ever ue it again, I’ll have my paparazzi take pics of it in broad sunlight. It’s a bag that I promise only YOU will have. Ok, perhaps if you’re not in Asia. However, I’ve only seen one gal with a similar bag where I live. But nevertheless, there’s only one of this piece since each is customized. If you’re interested in buying it, I’ll sell it for US$750. Price is negotiable. Email firstname.lastname@example.org if you have questions. That’s just one item off my soon-to-open mini emporium of my old wares. ;)
Now you know why I could never get guys for myself. I’m soooo camp and gay! But seriously, I’m bisexual. Hah Bloody Hah.
P.S. Bryanboy loves people from Australia, Neiman Marcus, CloseLandArch and Louisville, KY!
5:44 AM where I’m at and boy do I feel so miserable.
You know you’re missing out on life when you spend your Friday 3AMs eating corn out of a can.
Yesterday was alright. Been raining on and off where I live. But that didn’t stop me from getting my treatments done.
I accomplished a lot yesterday actually. I had my usual facial, power peel, massage and a body scrub.
I also have bittersweet news – my aesthetician, Joyce, will quit on August 10 because she got her US immigrant visa approved and she’s moving to the USofA with her familia as a caregiver to wrinkly old people.
It’s saddening cause she’s the only person I’ve entrusted over the past year and a half digging and extracting my face, scrubbing each and every slit and crevice on my body, etc. In other words, she’s the only person in this world I’ll get naked for each and every week; she knows my body and all the hidden secrets and gossip it has — more so than my ex-boyfriends and shag buddies.
But hey, I totally understand her need for greener pastures, so to Joyce – I’ll definitely miss you.
On that note, I did some normal things people do. I went to the gas station, went to an ATM machine and went to a fast food place – no more big macs for me. I’m on a diet. I only had fries and lemonade.
I was planning to go to some gay speed dating thing yesterday but as one of my friends said, gay, speed dating and Manila doesn’t belong to each other. It can never fit into one sentence.
A couple of moi-gang threw a mini "Miss Shapes" party at Manila DJ Club but being the hermit that I am, I decided to stay home. As always, I needed recovery time from the facial abuse I got yesterday.
So… here I am. All lonely, miserable and feeling crap.
Gawd I need change. I need a breakthrough. I need something to stimulate my poor soul.
Everything is just ugh, so tedious.
Anyone… or anyone who knows anyone with a big, thick 10-inch cock who wants to receive some sucking from me? I’ll do you for free. Yep – pro bono work. Charity indeed.
I love you, you love me, let’s get OD’ed on valiums.
People often think on how I have this so-called "glamorous" and "expensive" life. I don’t. I’m also just a middle class twit (honest!) who loves everything ghetto, what’s that term, ghetto fabulouzzzzz.
Like normal commoners and mere mortals such as yourself, I, too, have this thing about McDonalds. I’m actually worse than a pregnant bitch when I get these food cravings. One day I’ll crave for true, hard-to-find Indian food, the next day I’ll crave for a calorie fuck-my-body-with-lard fest at McD’s.
Meet my "Big Breakfast" — an assortment of
cardboard pieces deep fried in oil, lard, and anal
lubricant of all sorts.
Since I were having my facial at my aesthetician today, my sister and I decided to pop by at McDonald’s before hand. Yes — I do like McDonald’s even after years of bitching on how I don’t do McD’s. I mean, the last time I had McDonald’s was something around either earlier this year, or last year. I can’t remember. It’s not often though.
Curious what goes on behind the doors of my aesthetician’s + dermatologist’s office? Here’s me having my usual glycopeel cleaning/extraction facial sessions. I do these either on a weekly basis (if my skin is crap) or bi-weekly if god loves me. I just have to have to have to have to do these regularly so I won’t get a zit etc.
You know how bad a single zit can be for your
self-esteem. It’s pretty much social suicide.
So why risk it when prevention is better
Here’s the fun part after all the extraction work etc. I don’t know what they call it but this is supposed to help close down your pores. Take note how red my face is afterwards — my aesthetician removed white heads etc. It’s facial abuse at it’s finest. But hey, 6 hours of a red face is worth a week or two weeks of flawless, beautiful skin. Try it! Get an extraction facial today and see what happens. :)
Wanna take a peek at the usual day at the clinic? It’s full of MatronAirs at their full force.
All I can say, I don’t care about you all cause I’m a pretty little thing and I loves it.
P.S. I’m 1-month overdue to see my shrink. I was supposed to see him back on June 15… I think I’ll see him sometime this week. *fingers crossed*. I’ve run out of Xanax and god knows when my next anxiety attack wil strike. I’m scared!
What a fun weekend it was. Let the pictures say it all.
On Saturday, I finally had the chance to u-haul my fat ass to my friend Tina’s apartment. I was bored and thought I’d hang out with some of my friends before going clubbing. As you know, my friend Tina is a local designer – and since I was kinda bored at the time, I went to one of the rooms and found a really nice dress. To shock everyone (well, nothing shocks my friends anymore. hahaha), I decided to wear the dress.
There has been that disgusting drag-wannabe picture of me on those blue tights scattered around the internet. But this one really bites the cake. Meet my 2nd official attempt in drag. LOL.
My arms are sooo fat thought. Actually, erase that. I’m SOOOO FAT!!!!! I need a couple more lipodissolve sessions. Ugh!
Both Lindsay Lohan and moi love Gaultier tank tops
After Tina’s place, we all had dinner, Japanese, at Zen, then went off to Club Embassy, as usual.
Sorry if I haven’t updated my blog in the past few days. Been slacking the past few days because of my meds. Ugh! And I still have cough. Terrible.
I’ll keep you posted in a bit. I’ve slept the entire Sunday off and it’s like 1:11AM in the morning. I need to gather my thoughts and my act together.
Love you all!!!
Good morning bitches! It’s 4:41AM on a Monday and I just got up.
I’ve been out since Friday afternoon, playing Little Miss Tour Guide to the recepient of the International Award for the Longest Gay Long Distance Relationship Ever.
How did I do? I sucked. Not literally, of course. I’m not a slut.
I failed to show them around places because there’s just absolutely no time… and I don’t know of any places to show them to. I’m a boring old fat hermit who has a sheltered life. If my memory serves me right, I brought them to 3 malls, my favourite cafe, a museum, an oyster bar, a Filipino restaurant, a club, a cafeteria restaurant and then a quickie drive to the railroad slums.
How generic. How boring eh? Well, I hope they did have fun though, in a way. I’m just bad at this "show me your city" thing because I’m clueless. If they had more time, we could’ve explored the city further.
The only thing that I can wish for at this point is that I hope they had a good impression of Manila and not think of it as a crappy third world place with nothing to do etc — which it is, in a way. LOL.
All of that aside, I had a little realization.
It absolutely sucks being around with a fucking couple. It’s the worst feeling in the world. If you could only see them the past weekend when we went shopping, They were just absolutely sweet.
It’s not just that — it’s the priceless bond that they have between them. The fact how they know each other well, how they accept and understand each other, blah blah blah. What a lucky couple. They’re very nice folks so I guess they deserve each other.
What about me though? How come I don’t get any offers?
And there I was, thinking, fucking hell, how come I don’t have a boyfriend after all these miserable years. Am I ugly? Am I undesirable? Am I really that complicated?
Fuck, do I have to sell myself and be a bloody prostitute and force-feed my customers with Rohypnol or any of those date rape pills and make them fall in love with me?
Or am I destined to be lonely forever?
Well, only time can tell. But at this point, all the roads lead to me being an old maid in the future.
Thank god for friends though. Oh yes, thank god for my friends force-feeding me vanilla ice cream on a cone to help me get past of those weird pangs of loneliness. And materialism. Temporary happiness can indeed be found by dropping by at the Louis Vuitton store. Hah! At least it’s better than sulking.
This is the Damsel in Distress calling.
After this post, I expect to be sent a couple of thousand well-wishing notes, "hope you feel better soon" emails, and "I hope you die you ditzy, shallow bitch" memos, not to mention a ton of flowers, balloons and fruit baskets — no chocolate please, they’re fattening and they give you pimples.
It’s 3:42AM, got up an hour ago and here I am, sweating like a pig. I think it’s because of my meds. I got really sick Friday night/Saturday morning to the point where I had a doctor come up to see me in my room and inject some meds to make my 103.1 degree Fahrenheit (that’s 39.5 Celsius) go down.
Apparently I’ve got fever, sore throat, dry cough and a chest infection of some sort. The doctor prescribed me some cough syrup (Robitussin-DM), Augmentin, which is an antibiotic, Extra Strength Sinutab, and some paracetamol.
Thanks to my meds, I got diarrhea too.
But you know what, I love diarrhea.
I mean, I love having diarrhea, but I don’t love diarrhea as in I’ve got a liquid poo fetish. There are some sickos out there. You know what I mean.
A couple of years ago, I read somewhere that diarrhea can cause dehydration. Surely dehydration can’t be that bad cause like it drains water from your body, which is a good thing – some people get fat from water retention, right?
If I were to do an equation:
Diarrhea = Dehydration = Loss of Water
Loss of Water = Weight Loss
Weight Loss = Nice thing
I mean, one can never lose too much weight, right? Unless you’re anorexic.
Armed with a couple of paracetamol tablets in my handbag, I went to the Preview Magazine party on Friday night. Yes, with fever. Yes, despite the doctor telling me Friday afternoon that I shouldn’t take alcohol and I shouldn’t smoke. But fuck it, you only live once eh? And you know what they say about bad grass. Bad grass never die.
Tons of people at the Preview party on Friday night even if It rained sooo hard. While most complied to the "Modern Indigenous" dress code, some went way, way, overboard with the theme, especially a ton of faggots who end up looking "Mother Indigenous" instead of "Modern Indigenous".
But yes, I settled for plain black and plain Gucci yesterday in addition to a belt that I bought in the last minute. And boy do I look, well, rather large! If you’re fat in Gucci, you’re fat everywhere else!
So yes – prime proof that you can have fun despite being sick.
I got back at around 5AM on Saturday morning and that’s when the doctor injected me some paracetamol. My fever went down and I went to sleep.
The fun didn’t stop there though.
Despite having fever, hideous clear sunglasses (big mistake — but hey, you learn from mistakes eh?), a bad hair day, I took a quick stroll at the park with my sister and her friends and had lunch at our favourite weekend haunt, M Cafe. We also went to the cinema and I finally saw "Monster-in-Law" starring no other than fat-arsed J.Lo and J. Fo (so that’s the Jane Fonda person.). I love the film. You know how I like chick-flicks… and cute guys in chick-flicks. This Michael Vartan person yeah, I think he’s hot. If you know guys who are like that, please send them my way, thank you.
So here I am, suffering the consequences. I’ll get better though. I know I’ll get better. If I don’t, here’s a note to my lawyers: my clothing collection should be sold at Sotheby’s, my handbag collection goes to my sisters, my internal organs are to be donated to those who need them and please make sure I get a manicure, pedicure and armpit waxing from Tips N’ Toes before I get cremated.
It’s 4:46AM and I’ll go back to bed. Good night.