Sad, sad, sad.
YOU HAVE TO WATCH THIS VIDEO FROM START TO FINISH!!!!
I have one thing to say. Never trust men. They’re all bastards. Lipstick lesbians for the mother fucking win!
OK, I take that back. Never trust men who are poor or take public transport.
Love is a game.. it drives me insane
Love is a game… it drives me insane. I feel no shame and won’t take no blame.
Before I begin with my usual spiel, let me tell you that my "111" (one pill, one fruit cup and one glass of milk a day) diet didn’t work for me. It was terrible. It fucked my head up completely. I spent the entire time popping sleeping pills because I got dizzy all the time from the lack of food. That’s why I haven’t updated my blog recently. Well, that and the bollocking typhoon too.
Envy… Envy Me
Saucer of Gucci Envy please.
I’ve somewhat lost interest in blogging over the past few days because of this big, bad world I live in. There are many, many cold-blooded and resentful people out there who have nothing to do in their lives. Their bloodstreams overflow with venomous bile hence the need to spread hatred to others.
If you’re gonna talk shit about me or other people, please…. for good times’ sake, be careful (and selective) as to who you talk to. You’re only making yourself look worse (you already LOOK bad darling) when your bitter messages reach the person you are talking about.
All I can say is… envy breeds malice, spite and ill-will. Why can’t these people get over with their own personal failures and insecurities?
Let me share some quotable quotes. They came from THIS article published by The Catholic News… don’t ask my why I quoted them in the first place. I don’t know what to tell you other than the fact that I’m satan’s shopaholic spawn. Shopping is my religion and the mall is my temple.
"Envy eats away at the insides of its victim, and from its self-torment malice ensues. Envy is particularly adept at noticing and pointing out the faults of others. What I cannot have, I will besmirch or bring low. Or I will say it’s not worth having in the first place."
"A levelling instinct dominates envy. It grows naturally, as Aristotle observed, in relationships between equals. If we’re all equal, why should you stand out? Envy is the besetting sin of all professional groups, a fact most noticeable in the faculties of universities, but not only there, of course. You find it also in prayer groups. The envious prayer group member finds it extremely galling that other people can pray “better” than he or she can. "
"Envy confuses being equal with being identical. We all have equal rights before the law, and equal access to God. But life is otherwise a field of unequal distribution. No matter where I look there’s someone who has something I don’t have, or something I have but in a finer way, or simply more of what I have. Comparison only condemns me to ceaseless torment. "
"The antidote to envy, on the other hand, is growth in self-love and self-acceptance. The envious are not grateful for, or happy in, what they are or what they have. They feel that they are nothing and their nothingness is exposed by the success, achievement, or good fortune of others."
Click HERE to read the full article.
On that profound note, keep in mind that the ultimate form of revenge to these bottom feeders is success.
Gucci Envy ME, anyone?
This blog entry goes out to people who deserve to read this message.
Besides, only the guilty knows what on earth I am talking about.
Set this is stone mother fuckers: don’t drag me into your acerbic and foul lives. Live… and let live. I **WILL** be fucking successful regardless of whatever it is that I want to achieve in life.
I know bad grass NEVER die so… fuck you. Fuck EACH and EVERY one of you.
I got up early yesterday morning cause I have a "Beauty Day" date with a friend. The first thing my mom told me was for me to stay indoors unless I wanna die.
You must have heard all the politics-related insanity going on in the capital of the land of the brown, l’exotique and the natives.
Riots or no riots, war or peace, heck, I don’t give a flying fuck if all hell breaks loose… I was fucking determined to get my hair done…
… and that’s exactly what I ended up doing.
I met up with friends at H-Salon in Rustan’s Makati to get a color and highlights. I LOVE that place. The service is good and Henry is a doll! I’m gonna go there for color from now on for color.
I thought I’d get my eyebrows done while waiting for their turns to finish their treatments.
Man, it was TORTURE! I wailed like a pregnant bitch who is about to give birth. I have a feeling it was my voice that stopped the riots yesterday.
Thank you Henry Calayag! I LOOOOOVE the color of my locks. I got a ton of comments last night how my hair is sooo nice. The pictures don’t do it justice.
This third world hell hole of a country can burn in hell for all I care but at least I’ve got FABULOUS hair!
Don’t get me wrong… I love my country…. but I have to love my own ass first.
Seriously… some of these people should just stop all these riot/protest nuisance. It was effective for the first 2 times… but you can’t recreate the past. You’re scaring the tourists away and you’re destroying the economy, including my livelihood. Being the local dollar earning prostitute that I am, how the fuck am I supposed to get well-hung clients from far flung places?
Ugh. I don’t even wanna talk anything that has to do with politics. It’s a touchy subject and the only time I’ll talk about it in great detail is when I’m holding public office or when someone with ill-gotten wealth adopts me.
Anyway, yesterday was productive. I accomplished a lot of things. I bought 2 delectable clutch bags. One of them is real snakeskin and the other one is faux croc. I LOVE the way you open/close the bag. These lovely confections will drive a bag thief insane – it took me several hours to figure it out.
Yves Saint Laurent bag, Dolce & Gabbana eel skin and kid fur clutch, Mulberry bag, DSquared shirt, Tim Camino t-shirt.
I love my new Mulberry bag. It looks a bit weird in photos but it’s lovely in person. The color is astounding.
Yes mother fuckers, I’ll update InsideMyBag.com later today. PROMISE!
Mulberry bag, Hermes scarf, Goyard wallet, Goyard agenda, Alain Mikli eyeglasses, Gucci sunglasses, Shu Uemura face powder, Yves Saint Laurent concealer, pens, ipod, lighter, cash, passport.
I ***LOVE*** my Mulberry bag!!!!
It was a good day overall. There must be something in the air. Heck, we even went to the cinema to watch Big Momma. Celine and I packed far too many calories yesterday. We had 3 meals yesterday… in a span of 8 or so hours… oh, and I had 3 enormous scoops of Haagez Dazs ice cream while watching the movie.
We all went home after the film. I was exhausted at the end of the day.
And a little depressed.
7 of us went to the movie theatre. A gay couple, 2 straight couples and good ol singleton me.
JUST BECAUSE I’M A TRANSVESTITE HERMAPHRODITE, IT DOESNT MEAN I DON’T DESERVE TO BE LOVED.
SOMEONE JUST LOVE ME GOD DAMMIT.
This is Summer
Even my 2 younger sisters have boyfriends even if I don’t like them that much. Fuck love and fuck being in a relationship.
I have to rely on myself to get love. It’s only ME who loves ME, MYSELF and I.
Until I find someone who will love me, I’m gonna love myself by pouring out my frustrations by shopping.
This is summer right here. Well.. part of it. LOL.
Save the 5-inch Chloe shoe/sandal and Versace clip-on earrings for a rainy day. I wanna to dress up like a whore once or twice this year.
Dior Homme (can’t remember) tuxedo vest, Ann Demeulemeester tank, Paul Smith shoes, Dolce & Gabbana jacket, Dolce & Gabbana t-shirt, Dolce & Gabbana polo shirt, David Szeto pearl necklace, Fruit cowboy boots, Chloe shoes, Versace clip-on earings, Marc Jacobs bag, Dior sunglasses, Tom Ford sunglasses, Marc Jacobs sunglasses, Zodiac chrono watch, Dior Homme tie, Versace pin, Louis Vuittn bag, Strenesse caftan, Ike watch, Etro sneakers, Eme Jota gazelle fur bag, Oscar de la Renta faux croc portfolio clutch, Nancy Gonzalez python minaudiere.
Bryanboy Loves… and Random Cheesemax
#1 – Bryanboy loves people from Ca Quarta, Veneto Italy, Cambridge, UK, Cagayan De Oro, Philippines, Chicago, IL, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, Long Beach, CA, Braddock, PA, Mount Laurel, NJ, Hawthorn, VIC Australia, Honolulu, HI, Easthampton, MA, Kilmacanoge, Wicklow Ireland, Cote D’Azur, France, Kanagawa, Japan, Toulouse, France, Roslyn, NY and of course, people from Liberec, Czech Republic. I love each and every one of you mother fuckers. Email me and tell me you wanna fuck my fanny.
#2 – Watch out for Podcast #4 coming out in 6 hours!
#3 – See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil. YOU ARE EVIL.
#4 – Geography is no boundary when it comes to unconditional love and the infamous Bryanboy pose. Here’s one from good ol New York.
#5 – Be sure to go to my Discussion Forums. www.bryanboy.com/forum. Say hi, don’t be shy.
I’ve had it. I’m gonna work on my podcast and post here in a bit.
More updates later.
Talk to me you maggots! Email firstname.lastname@example.org or SMS +63-915-785-1492.
It’s almost midnight here and I’ll be awake for the next 6 hours.
I love each and every one of you. Someone please buy me a Boucheron watch!
PS. Discuss this blog post here.
Red is the Color of Love
10 more days and it’s Valentine’s Day. My ugly little brown ass is still single, just like it had always been (for the past 3-4 years).
I’m not being demanding. In fact, I’m probably the most reasonable person EVER.
I’m not even asking for a boyfriend. All I’m asking for is a date with a tall, cute guy who will buy me expensive dinner, expensive champagne and give me a tiny red box with a large shiny gift from Cartier.
Anyway, I was cropping the latest batch of photos and I suddenly remembered (OUT OF NOWHERE) an online chat conversation I had with a French one-night stand. I met him a couple of days before I left Paris; we now talk on MSN (webcams and all) every once in a while.
Here’s how the conversation went:
Me: You know what’s weird? The older I seem to get, the younger guys I attract. I hate it. I need a nice man to protect me, not a friggin fetus. All of the guys I get these days are young ones.
Him: You get old… so they’re looking for a sugar daddy.
Me: Some of these guys have disposable incomes so I’m sure that’s not the case. But maybe you’re right. The young ones tend to be attracted to me because of what they see. They think I have money. Oh I hate it. I could never win in this game.
Him: Hahahaha! You are NOT classic enough for the old guy. You are too fashionable. LOL.
Me: I am not "too fashion"
Him: But you are young and young people are like that. Older guys, they want Ralph Lauren Polo and gray pants. SOMEONE THEY CAN SHOW TO THEIR PARENTS LOL
I wanted to slap the mother fucker right then and there.
When you think about it, maybe he’s right.
Perhaps that’s the reason why I’ve been single all along. I’m sooo OUTRé! I am soo in-your-face. Everything about me is distinct: my drug-fucked drag queen voice, my in-your-face clothes, my scary eyes, my trademark onion bulb nose etc.
Maybe… just maybe… I’m good enough for a fuck.
Maybe two fucks. maybe three fucks.
No, make that four fucks.
Shit, I’m probably even good enough as a mistress… or someone in a relationship would cheat with.
But will I ever be good enough to be shown to someone’s parents, cigarettes, bad makeup, warts and all?
I don’t know.
Nobody has tried!
Perhaps the Frenchman was right this time.
Oh well. I’ll tone down when I get my Senior Citizen Discount card.
By the meantime, I hope you enjoyed my paparazzi-style pics. I really need a full-time paparazzi to be on call on my shameless self-promotion PR shots. Hah! Anyone willing to take my photos for free? Email me. I have nothing to give other than sexual favours.
Believe it or not, it’s been quite awhile since I’ve set foot inside a gay bar/club here in the third world.
Government reopened its doors last night after a quick renovation and it was the perfect time to do a "GAY NIGHT" with gay friends and acquaintances.
Bah, everyone is gay these days anyway. There’s the gay-curious brigade, the gay-acting straights, the gays-in-denial… the list goes on and on.
I had soo much fun yesterday… considering I only went out for no more than 3 HOURS! I lost a ton of weight from all that sweating, dancing and roaming I did around the club. I remember getting there at around 1:30AM and I got home at no later than 4:30! It was speed-clubbing at its finest.
Bryanboy Loves… and Random Cheesemax
#1 – Bryanboy loves people from Lancaster, Blackpool, UK, Houston, TX, Manama, Bahrain, Camberwell, VIC, Australia, Stettenberg, Bayern Germany, Moriyacho, Kanagawa Japan, Istanbul, Turkey, Oviedo, FL, Loughborough, UK, Lersen, Staden Kobenhavn Denmark, Tempe, NSW Australia, Malmo, Sweden, Boulogne-Billancourt, France, Askim, Norway, Tokyo, Japan and of course, all my friends from Micarone, Abruzzi Italyyyyyy! I love each and every one of you. Say hi, don’t be shy!
#2 – Big shout out to Altair Drexel of Kelowna, BC Canada! No… I haven’t seen Bareback Mountain yet. Feel free to burn my toes with a cigarette… I’ll watch it soon though. PROMISE!
#3 – I just found out not EVERYONE can view photos hosted on a Flickr website. Several people emailed me and there are some companies out there who blocked their servers from accessing Flickr. My oh my. Don’t worry though… I’m **THIS** close to coming to a solution. I’ll be hosting all my new images at a different hosting site now.
#4 – I HATE MY FRIEND LOUISE FROM SWEDEN. I made her 2 "I Love Louise" pictures and all I got was a crappy photoshopped piece of shit. You know how ****I**** despise photoshop. I’m not even gonna post what she made.
#5 – I can’t believe I missed the Goyard Boutique opening in San Francisco yesterday, Friday. It’s the first Goyard boutique in the world aside from the one in St. Honore in Paris! I’m truly honored to be invited (in spite of haven’t been to San Francisco in my entire life. Oi!) and I genuinely appreciate the gesture.
#6 – JUST KISS ME ALREADY. I AM TIRED OF PLAYING THE GAME. YOU KNOW I LIKE YOU, I KNOW YOU LIKE ME TOO. OK, MAYBE NOT. BUT PLEASE, FOR THE LIFE OF GOD, JUST FUCKING GRAB MY ARM THE NEXT TIME YOU SEE ME AND GIVE ME A GOOD TONGUE ACTION.
#7 – Small favor to those of you who live in the third world. Does anyone around here have a copy of yesterday’s (FRIDAY) Philippine Star newspaper? I have a photo there somewhere. Please, pretty please, look for my photo and scan it for me. I’m begging you. I’ll give you a kiss on the cheek and an oreo cookie if you do this teeny weeny favor for me. Email email@example.com. Thanks!
I think that’s all for now.
Email firstname.lastname@example.org or SMS +63-915-785-1492. TELL ME YOU LOVE ME.
Be happy, be pretty and be gorgeous. Don’t do anything I won’t do.
What to Look for in a Guy
Calling the attention of all single mother fuckers out there. Hear ye! Hear ye!
After all these years, now I know why I’m still fucking single. My standards are way too far up my own ass… I shouldn’t take my little guide religiously… and so…. seriously.
Whoever said love is blind should be shot to the ground and squished like roadkill. Fuck ‘love is blind’. Love is much better behind a pair of Boucheron (or in my case, Gucci) sunglasses.
For those of you out there who might be interested on what my standards are, feel free to read below. I added some nice celebrity (and pornesque) shots to illustrate what I meant.
1. He must be taller than you by at least a couple of inches… even with heels.
Save the midgets to the little people. People like you and me need a man who is taller than us.
2. He must be fit, well-proportioned and have better-than-average looks.
This is a tricky one. Someone who looks nice and presentable enough is good. On the other hand, going for someone who has a killer body and a hollywood smile is pretty much asking for trouble.
Skip the beautiful boys and go for the beautiful-but-not-so-beautiful kind.
3. He must be well-off.
One of our mantras in the Bryanboy School of Golddigging is "why date a parasite when that parasite can be YOU?". Let’s face it – nobody wants to date a fucking leech. Unfortunately.. most men here (who bat for my team at least) are fucking leeches. At least that’s what I’ve been told. Not that I’ve ever dated a guy here… in fact, I HAVEN’T!
Perhaps this is one of the main reasons why I’m still single in this cesspit of the third world. It already makes me sad knowing the fact that I’m not attractive. So why make me feel worse by going out with me only because you think I have money?
I’m not saying that we should all root for the wealthiest guy in the world… all I’m trying to say is it’s a matter of balance… like the picture above. Besides… who wouldn’t want to get nice orange boxes with brown ribbons once a week?
BTW.. AVOID students at all costs. That’s right. Those damn creatures (no matter how wealthy they are) will fuck you in the head.
4. Go for a gentleman.
It’s always nice when a guy treats you like a princess. A true gentleman is very, very hard to find these days. They are so hard to find that even our old hag Kate Moss goes for the young ones. I wonder, who the hell is this 20 year old mystery guy?
Would it be nice if you have a man at your disposal to help put your shoes on? Isn’t that sweet?
5. Always opt for the er.
Bigg-ER. Bett-ER. Great-ER.
Never sell yourself short. There is nothing wrong for wanting anything that ends with an ER. Bigger, better, greater.
Email me and tell me you love me. Email email@example.com.
NOTE: BEFORE YOU READ THIS POST, I WANT YOU TO DOWNLOAD THIS TRACK SO YOU CAN FEEL THE INTENSITY OF WHAT I’M FEELING.
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.
I have never felt soo stupid.
I did cry for a little bit on my way back from the train station (where I dropped Jakob off cause he has to go back to middle of nowhere, Sweden) to the hotel. Thank god I had my brand spanking new Gucci sunglasses to conceal my tears.
(God I look awful on that picture.)
I’ll be honest. I haven’t cried in a long time.
Heck, I didn’t even cry when my grandfather died last year.
I don’t even know why the fuck I’m sobbing like a little bitch.
It seems soo petty and shallow, you know.
I bet you he’ll probably laugh it off (or feel embarassed) when he reads this post. Am I right, Jakob? Hah! *kiddin*
Nah, he’s a really cool guy. I’m glad that we met. I have to admit though, the chances of me and him seeing again are pretty much slim to none. History repeats itself and it’s ***ALWAYS*** been like that whenever I go on holiday.
I told him yesterday when we were walking around Copenhagen, "Merry Christmas, Happy New Year and Happy Birthday."
Here’s a funny pic taken on Friday (thanks Sebastian!!!!)
I look like a midget compared to all those guys. Ugh! Someone just make me 6 foot 3 already. Please? All I want for christmas is to be 6’3… or 6’4.
While true love comes in the form of a Hermes croc birkin bag or a Vacheron Constantin watch, looking at some of these pictures will suffice when I’m feeling shit.
Thank you, thank you, thank you all for loving me.
(Bryangirl in the making. She’s only 16 months old. Thanks Sharon!)
(Here’s some Swedish lovin’ lovin from Ola and Linn… they’re some of Jakob’s friends. The left sign says "Go for it Jaqy" aka Jakob.)
AL from the Philippines even had their maids do the Bryanboy pose. I love it! (Hello to JS!!)
I love girls from the land of kangaroos and gorgeous surfer boys.
Here’s a big one from Singapore. Bryanboy LOVES EACH AND EVERYONE of you.
Keep those pictures coming. A lonely, sobbing bitch like me can never have too much love. True love comes in the form of a photograph. Email prima facie evidence of your unconditional love to firstname.lastname@example.org.
Anyway, I need to get my head fixed. I’m gonna roam around Copenhagen for a bit, stock up on Georg Jensen and see more Danish people.
I need a good kick up my ass so I’ll *snap* *snap* back to reality.
I have a little gay video surprise for you all.
I’m cleaning up my digital camera and came across this small video of me posing in a club. Niklas must have pressed the wrong button and took a video instead of a picture.
Click here to download/view it. It’s quite dark though. Oh well.
Here’s more Stockholm pics for you to look at. Some of the pics were taken at Sturecompagniet. I’m telling you, that FOX goes everywhere!!!!
Ok, ok, I know she’s gorgeous. Her chinchilla is better than mine though. I love you NAOMI!
You Got the Love
Sometimes I feel like throwing my hands up in the air. I know I can count on you. Sometimes I feel like saying "lord I just don’t care", but you’ve got the love I need to see me through.
It’s 7:50AM and I’m off to bed after this post. I’m gonna clean up and crop my blog to a reasonable length as soon as I’ve risen from my rivotril-induced
coffin beauty sleep. The entire page is just far too long and I think it’s high time for me to just create some sort of a "Classic Bryanboy" drop-down thing with some of my Academy Award-winning posts.
Here’s my final abuse to those of you on dialup and homoerectus-era internet connections: I am proud to present you the boys who have a special place in my heart.
Yeah yeah. Whatever.
Fall in line bitches. One at a time. If you want to go technical I can only manage three at a time. Ok, maybe four because I have 2 hands.
Especially Alex. Oh yes, Alex. I love you too.
D as in D, there’s still that "Erin O’Connor" thing ever since I first saw you.
Time after time I say oh lord what’s the use, time after time I say this just won’t do. But sooner or later in life the things you love you’ll lose… just like before I know I call on you.
Send me pictures of love, love and even more love. Bombard my email account: email@example.com. Genuine, true and unconditional love only please – NO photoshop.
Goodnight! Good morning.
Say a big pink hello to Max Foster.
He’s an anchor for CNN International, who is based in London. Despite him being almost balding, there’s something charismatic and CAMP with this guy when I was watching the TV earlier. And you know how I despise TV. I only watch CNN whenever I watch TV. I’m so over my couch potato phase. So to me, yeah, this moment was kinda special.
Y’all think he’s gay or not? Like most CNN imports, this charming, I-wish/don’t-mind-that-he-was-dirty-old-gay man came from the beeb (BBC). He does have a fugly photo too, fresh from the BBC website, circa 2004. Look at the awful face and imagine the look when he’s giving it to your shithole. Gawd, when I saw him on TV earlier, all I wanted to do is to smash my TV set, pull him out of the box, rip off that suit and see what kind of treasure awaits me.
He’s probably uncut. Oh well. whatever.
But yeah, I think whenever people from the beeb transfer to CNN, they somehow become cuter. That’s what "private funds" and "budget" does versus "public funds". More makeup, better clothes, plastic surgery….. hah! ;)
Penny Martin is God.
There is a GOD and her name is Penny. Screw nickles, dimes and pounds. Everyone get down on yer knees and hail the name "penny". Enough said.
Let’s go guy s-hopping now, shall we?
Admit it. If you use the internet and unless you are married (heck, even married people still hunt for shags on the side), chances are, you’ve probably created a profile at some website(s) looking for love, lust and well, lusting love and lovingly lust.
Like any internet geek such as yourself, I, one of the beautiful *vomit* ones, have all sorts of profiles EVERYWHERE. There’s one at myspace, friendster, outeverywhere, fridae, thingbox, gaydar and all sorts of places. Even at places where it involves an online translator where people speak french or russian.I believe in biodiversity and I think you have to put yourself out there. The world is a big, big place and you don’t want to miss opportunities.
Sadly, some of the opportunities I get are:
I’m at a loss of words when I saw that. Actually, not really. I’m used to it. If you’re a chink, chances are you’d probably be getting a ton of messages such as the one above.
What never ceases to amaze me tho is where the fucking hell do some of these "types" get the audacity to even think I’d go for them. I think perhaps just because I’m a chink they automatically have it programmed that I’d go for their hairy large buttocks. Can I say purge? Not that there’s something wrong with em, I mean, they’re humans too you know. But still. Gosh.
Fine. I promise I won’t be critical of other people.
Has it even occured to them that despite me being of the exotic kind, that I’d actually go for someone within MY age range? Or at least close to it? I give them A+ for Effort though. Seriously. It takes BALLS to message people. I think it comes with the ageing process.
Now don’t get me wrong, I have LOTS of friends and acquaintances with people coming from all sorts of ages, backgrounds and lifestyles. I do talk to people regardless of who/what/where/etc they are.
But sometimes… just sometimes….. well, let’s just say I kind of turn into Beyonce. Nasty Girl. That sort of thing.
Anyway. Next one on the line is…. Errm, Actually, this one more of a "confession-type" thingie. But you know what, I, Bryanboy, have no shame. He and his friends will most likely read this but fuck it.
For the longest time ever, I had this little only crush thing with a certain guy. Oh yes. For like over a year, I’ve checked his profile out probably like at least once a week. Or something. I thought he was cute. Well, he is kinda cute.
The way the profile system at OutEverywhere works is the fact that when you check someone’s profile out and vice-versa, the system leaves a "track" automatically, therefore notifying you that he/you had visited each other’s profile. But god, this guy must have thought I’m a stalker.
So after about a year or two of me checking his profile out, he FINALLY took notice and sent me a message. This was like way, way, way, way back ago.
I was gobsmacked when I got that message. Again, bukkake facial at its finest.
And you know what?
I let his message sit on my inbox for an ENTIRE MONTH because I just didn’t know what to say.
Do I seem "assey" to you, my blog readers?
Last time I’ve checked, I’m the epitome of nice. And sweet.
One month later, I decided to send him a reply once and for all when I moved on (and my little infatuation is over).
Guess what? I didn’t get a reply since. I think I scared him off. Hah bloody hah.
Well, aren’t Mormons come from like Utah? Bah.
Now you know why I’ll be perennially single.
There’s just something about me, oh god save me, that kind of um, either attracts… or scare… people off.
Believe it or not though, I’m shy when it comes to boys.
It is EXTREMELY rare for me to actually send someone **I KINDA LIKE** a message.
Yes, I’ve got no shame when it comes to most things. Seriously.
But when it comes to me sending random people I kind of fancy… erk… I just can’t do it.
Even in person. Oh yes. Even in person.
I guess I’m one of those passive-types.
If people (I don’t fancy, at least sexually) talk to me, which thankfully, some do, I think it’s fantastic.
But for me to come up to someone I like… that’s a different story.
I need balls dammit.
Oh just bloody go out there, my blog
reader, and pimp me out to someone.
Baboosh for now.
Good morning to all of you worldwide cunts wherever you are. It’s 1:35AM on a Tuesday and I just got up. I’m starving!
Before I confess and unleash my inner demons to you my dear readers, I thought I’d pop in a couple of extra side dishes here and there. I hope all the sins, evil deeds and everything else that’s wrong, stays within this website. May god bless, forgive and fortify my soul.
First off, Sarah, thank you very much for bring to my attention my um, *cringes with shock and horror*, well, my alter-ago, www.brianboy.com – that’s Bryan spelt with an i, which makes it www.BRiANboy.com. Yes, my loyal readers, after months of concealing what my job is, Sarah finally discovered what I do for a living. NOT!
Next, I just got back from my pulmonologist and my paparazzi-slash-sisterette was able to take some shots. God I need a proper paparazzi this way I don’t have to pose. Hah! Crystal, here are some pictionary moments at the hospital parking lot. I’ve been trying to resurrect a skinny-off-duty-model-pre-brazilians-old-25-inch waist-earl jeans-wearing-effortless-rock-look but I made the dreaded mistake of wearing my fave cowboy boots instead of my Dior biker boots. Anyway, my arms look fat and it totally ruined the kodak moment.
Enough of this taken from the car shots. Man I look like a street tramp. A Chanel sunglasses, Balenciaga Bag wearing street tramp.
Wanna see me rough? I’ll give you rough.
I haven’t shaved my face for like a week
and a half now. I think I’m gonna grow
Now that pictionary is over, I might as well proceed with my confession.
I’m infatuated with someone. Deeply, madly, infatuated with someone.
The one that is almost borderline obsession because I googled to search for everything there is to know about him.
It’s been a few days now and I just can’t flush him out of my head.
I really like him.
His eyes says it all. Oh yes his shiny, shiny, shiny eyes.
You see, I don’t even like muscle marys. At all. I find them icky. I find them intimidating. I find them… awful.
But there’s always exceptions to the rule. Yes. EXCEPTIONS. You know who you are so fuck me. (Hint: his first name is Raul, his last name is Bova)
It’s so horrible that I’ve been living the past few days on a diet of sheer wishful thinking.
Why can’t I get this guy?
Is he even a fag?
Is he really a fag?
Is he even "bisexual"?
Does he have a girlfriend?
A cover-up girlfriend to keep the public satisfied?
All I can do at this point is to pray to the good lord almighty and the patron saint of fagdom, Patsy Stone, that he turn out to be gay.
And no, I haven’t thought about stealing his underwear contrary to what people think. As if that’s even possible. Hell-o.
As one guy told me, infatuation is worse than heroin.
If you’re infatuated but he isn’t then it’s obsession. Obsession can be as soon as 5 seconds after you’ve checked each other out.
But he hasn’t checked me out.
Not that I know of.
All I want is for him to look at me eyes and the give me a good ol hug and then a nice little snog action.
Again – wishful thinking. Hah!
Yes, he’s attractive. The first time I saw
him – shit, I had goosebumps. I was
gobsmacked. Fuck clouds in my coffee,
it was bukkake facial slapped on my face.
Ready boys and girls?
Thanks, Tr3nt, for the picture.
Vomit inducing drama eh? I bet you were
just as disappointed as I am. Heh!
Oh well. I like him.
So har dee har har.
P.S. To you my dear friends at Marc Jacobs. Did you guys get my fax? I know, I shouldn’t have don that Gucci Gladiator bag.
P.P.S.S. Email me and tell me you love me. You know who you guys are. firstname.lastname@example.org Or better yet, post comments and tell me you hate me.
P.P.P.S.S.S. According to my pulmonologist, my pill popping days are over. I can now safely smoke like a chimney again and ditch my bronchitis pills. I’m a healed man! All I need now is this nasal spray for a few weeks and that’s about it!
As my newfound friend Lucifer from Mexico says, a bottle of Fracas anyone?
I’m off to have lunch. Yes, at 2:05AM. I’ll update later.