Oh. my. fucking. God.
Oh I fucking hate it.
Oh Jesus Mary mother of Christ.
Since this is my blog (aka my personal, online, "dear diary", I’m gonna open up like the honest BITCH that I am and say what’s coming out from my head/heart/ass.
Words cannot express my fuckin anger.
Ugh. I can’t believe I didn’t took pictures of him.
My friend Natalya, being the pimp that she is (HAHAHAHAHAHAHA), introduced me to one of her gay friends.
His name is Evgenia (like my friend Jane… that’s her real name but Evgenia, pronounced as "Jhhhhaneya" or "John-ya"), he’s fuckin 32, soooo muscular, have very short dark hair (just the way I like it), some light stubble, (like Dima), about 6-foot-2, have soooo super strong arms and rock-hard abs…
I CAN’T BELIEVE HE DIDN’T HAVE A CONDOM WITH HIM.
(SHIT, I CAN’T BELIEVE I DIDN’T HAVE A CONDOM WITH ME.)
As someone who had experienced a shitload of crap just to have an HIV test earlier this year (thank god I CAME OUT as fuckin NEGATIVE…. since then, I’ve never had sex…), I’m sooo fucking scared to have sex cause of the whole HIV/AIDS thing — I hope you know where I stand on this; I want to be fuckin 75 years old and wear Oscar de la Renta… I don’t want to be HIV-positive and have the face of death right in front of myeyes.
Anyway…we kissed, we wanked each other off, we hugged, i blew him, we did all sorts of stuff except anal cause we both didn’t have condoms… I mean, shit, I didn’t expect this really… I’m not a sexual person… I’m more of a cock-teasing bitch… just look, be looked at, but no touch. HAHAHAHAH
(REMEMBER KIDS – NEVER DO ANYTHING PENETRATIVE UNLESS YA HAVE RUBBER – YOU MIGHT CATCH A DISEASE YOU’LL REGRET FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE)
blatttttttttt…. (I can’t believe I’m speaking Russian)
we did the deed (but nothing pentrative), chatted for about 30 minutes and I told him I want to go to sleep – he told me he has to go home as well.
Oh, before I go to bed, can I just say…
DAVID MCCULLOUGH, THE GUY I HAD SEX WITH TODAY LOOKS ALMOST EXACTLY LIKE YOU EXCEPT HE DOESN’T HAVE ISSUES WITH HIS SEXUALITY (UNLIKE YOU **DID**). IT’S FUNNY HOW HE’S GOT EYEGLASSES (AND SO DID YOU)… OH I STILL (SORRY BABE) HAVE FEELINGS FOR YOU BUT WE HAVE OUR OWN SEPARATE WORLDS.
to cut the story short, this guy I just did tonight sorta looks like this guy I had the hots for about 3 years ago…
Anyway, I think I’d rather sleep.
I’m so drunk and my mouth smells like his crotch. I need to wash my face and brush my teeth.
Stockholm Here I Come
Just a couple more days to go and I’m off to Stockholm. I just sent a majority of my clothes to be laundried and I’m busy packing my shit before sending some of it via Federal Express.
As you can see, FedEx is a traveler’s best friend; Why pay a ridiculous amount in excess baggage when you can send your stuff in advance to your hotel and have all your stuff waiting for you when you arrive?
After all, I intend to set foot in Europe with nothing but empty suitcases and only my Goyard bag as hand luggage.
I have this nagging feeling in my gut that my gal pal from the third world, Tina D., ain’t coming to Europe after all. I mean, it’s already November 30 and she still hasn’t submitted her visa application to the French Embassy. We’re supposed to meet each other in Paris mid-December.
Oh I don’t know. To be honest, I’m NOT even supposed to go to Europe. She persuaded me to join her because she hates the people she’s supposed to go to Paris (ok, she doesn’t really hate them, but she said they don’t have any money and their attitudes are crap). LOL.
Fuck it though. I’m sure I’ll have a blast whether or not she decides to push through. I spoke to her yesterday night and in all seriousness, I don’t think she’s gonna come.
Oh well – that means I’ll get to have my room solely to myself (yay) and that means I’ll get to have a shitload of space for interracial sex orgies, drug-fuelles highs and of course, prime storage space for my conspicous consumption aka shopping.
I’m kidding. Bah!!!!
Natalya, Mark and moi went to Piramida yesterday evening to meet yet another one of Natalya’s friends. His name is Oleg and he’s an actor (theatre) here in Moscow.
(My black assymetrical top is from Balenciaga)
The Russians are really a nice, friendly and hospitable bunch.
They’d introduce me to their friends, treat me food/dinners/rides/vodka, invited me to a birthday celebration, brought me to their work places, drive me around town etc. They’re all oh so wonderful and they knew how to take very good care of me.
I can’t believe I’m leaving Moscow in 3 days and the thought of doing so brings tears in my eyes.
Travelling solo has its ups and downs – the ocassional pang of loneliness and homesickness etc. but it’s all worth it in the end.
I get exposed to soo many cultures, see soo many different things, meet all sorts of people from all walks of life.
Bah. I don’t want to be emotional. Last time I’ve checked, I’ve got the soul of a dirty brown bitch and a heart made out of fine
murano glass Italian marble.
Red Square at Night (and Moscow by Day)
Just got back here at the hotel and it’s only friggin 6:12PM. These pictures were taken at around 4 and it’s already fuckin dark. Ugh. Winter eh?
Can you believe it’s only 4 degrees celsius? Apparently this winter is one of Moscow’s warmer winters. By this time the city should be covered in a blanket of snow. Ya gotta blame global warming and old women matronairs who use airspray to keep their fuckin bouffants alive.
Yes, that’s a real monkey I’m holding in his/her winter regalia. Now THIS is real animal abuse, not me and my chinchilla fur; these monkeys must be fuckin freezing their balls off. Where the hell are those PETA fuckers when you need them.
I look sooo pale on that photo. I think it’s the camera flash… it’s too bright. Also, my skin is AWFUL! I haven’t had a facial in about 2 weeks now. I need beautiful skin when I get to Paris. Hell, I NEED cosmetic surgery AND a facial cause I sooo don’t have a fuckin jawline. UGH.
Believe it or not, I saw the SUN for the first (or second) time ever since I got here 2 weeks ago.
(view from my room)
Photos below were taken at Pushkinskaya Square where there’s a political demonstration whatever. It’s election time here in Moscow.
Yeah, like I care about fuckin politics. The only thing I like about politicians are their excesses, wealth and unlimited access to public funds.
I’m 23 years old and I haven’t even registered to vote let alone vote for anyone.
All politicians in my side of the third world are the same – they’re all old and they smell like soil on a rainy day. I should be the president you know… I’ll make my land sooo beautiful the first thing I’ll do is MASS CASTRATION and VASECTOMY for all males over the age of 13 and GENOCIDE just to get rid of all the bad and ugly elements of today’s society.
Everyone heil Bryanboy!
Sundays Are Gay Days
It’s Monday, 10:38AM and I just got up about half hour ago. I came back at the hotel at around 4:30.
Not too shabby for a Sunday night out.
Yesterday was fun – I even went to an Ukrainian restaurant. I wish I took my camera with me.
Here are pics from my quest (well, yesterday’s quest) for mixed-race cosmonauts.
Watcha lookin at? Hump me Sergey, hump me!
Dima’s eyes are soo soo sexy… you know, like little miss stoner pothead eyes. Love, love, love em.
He’s sooo lovely.
I’m taller than this guy but look how his arms are twice the size of mine.
Vova and I have this little whistle thing THING. He’s soo adorable.
Now that you’ve seen me flit from one boy’s lap to another (i’m telling you, it won’t be long until I become a pregnant mother fucker – I fucking have mixed-raced half-white, half-iced-cafe-latte cosmonauts swimming inside my tummy now), it’s time to show some female action.
That’s Natalya from Ukraine.
Jane dolled up and piled on my designer goodies like a proper bitch. I LOVE IT. Yes, they were purposely done in a in-your-face, distateful manner on a Novi Ruski can do. Click here for an in-depth article about Novi Ruskis by The Times Newspaper UK.
To quote Simon Mills:
"You can spot a bunch of holidaying Novi Ruskis at 200 yards. It’s not just their brusque, bear-baiting mannerisms or the linguistic glottal-stopping. The men are portly, and look like plutonium salesmen with terrible taste in swimwear; the women sport an affluent effluence of logos, diamanté-studded accessories, metallic belts and the sort of vertiginous shoes that make the debt-set dollies of Cheshire look sartorially restrained."
Jane, being my friend and all, had to do the infamous Bryanboy pose. Hahahaha!
Mark oh Mark
I met up again with one of my first Russian friends, Mark. He now lives in South Russia and took a train just to see me in Moscow.
Not only he’s changed physically (he lost weight, he’s got long hair, he’s got facial hair), his life also changed tremendously.
Our conversations were really deep and heavy… how his life has been so good last year and how it’s been worse this year: he lost his flat, his father disowned him, some of his friends passed away… ugh.. his stories were quite scary.
Remember Natasha from last year? Click here for last year’s post.
Apparently she passed away this year. Mark and Sergey were unclear on how she died (their English aren’t perfect and they couldn’t find the right English word, however, they said something about her brain/head etc) so I assumed it was due to a brain tumor.
To The Club
Mark, Sergey, me and Nataly went to Propaganda yesterday (YOU DON’T KNOW HOW MUCH I HATE THE WORD "PROPAGANDA" AND HOW EVERY FUCKIN CITY IN THIS PLANET HAVE A BAR OR CLUB CALLED "PROPAGANDA") because it was gay night.
Yes, they let us in this time.
No, there wasn’t any face control.
No, we all didn’t look gay.
OK, I looked pretty gay.
(Duh! What straight man would wear a Dior hat, a Marc Jacobs cardigan, a RED striped t-shirt from Urban Outfitters, a Chanel belt and a dead fox draped on his body?)
Apparently the woman in the middle is a famous Russian star. I have absolutely no idea on who she is.
I know I need to lose 15 more pounds. It’s NOT fun to be a heavyweight champion you know.
Dontcha just hate taking pictures inside a gay club and all these men in their finest (or rather not-so-finest) wifebeaters act as a backdrop? Ugh.
Bryanboy Loves… and Random Cheesemax
#1 – Bryanboy loves people from Ulsan, Korea, Kew, VIC Australia, Melbourne, Australia, San Diego, CA, Nashville, TN, Oxford, United Kingdom, Pudu, Malaysia, Calgary, AB Canada, Toronto, ONT Canada, Kangkar, Sinapore, Taipei, Taiwan, Mortdale, NSW Australia, all the lovely people from MOCKBA, Russia and of course, my hometown – the national capital of the land of the brown, l’exotique and the natives, Manila, Philippines!!!!
#2 – If you’re in Manila, have you bought a copy of Fudge Magazine yet? Please buy a copy of Fudge AND MEGA Magazines. I got a text message from Tanya (thanks babe) that I’ve got a photo there or some sort (Mega). Buy a copy bitches, scan the page with my photo on it, email it to me and I will forever be indebted to you. I wanna see if I look pretty there or not.
#3 – I’m going to STOCKHOLM, SWEDEN this Saturday. I gotta buy some furniture and say hello to Scandinavia. If you’re in/near Stockholm (or know anyone in Stockholm) and would like to rescue me from feeling the effects of being a lonely planet solo flight traveler (aka being lonely and miserable), please EMAIL me – firstname.lastname@example.org or SMS +63-915-785-1492. Let’s have coffee. or a drink. YOUR TREAT. Hahahahaha! Because I’m soo damn poor now.
#4 – BRYANBOY LOVES SINGAPOREANS!!! I’m telling each and every one of you bitches… I am soo goin to Singapore early next year. Heck, you better give me a a shitload of cigarettes and chewing gum to celebrate my arrival. I love you all!
#5 – Mike B. from Tampa, Florida says it all.
Keep the love coming bitches. I need some FOOD!
As always, you know where to contact me. Email email@example.com or SMS my Moscow mobile number, +7-926-437-6332.
SMS Messages are fucking cheap. Don’t just sit there and do NOTHING. Grab your mobile phone and tell me you love me.
I love you all.
From Moscow with Love
It’s 1:30PM and I just got up.
I ended up coming back to the hotel at friggin 7AM, just like the good ol’ days in Manila, Philippines.
Ugh my head and eyesockets hurt from all that booze I had yesterday.
Went to all these places, from this ethnic/arabic place that looks like a huge tent inside followed by a quick stint at Billionaire, Skazka, Fabrique and then this American diner called "Starlight" or "Starlite" which was quite cheesy though lovely – it’s just like in the movies where teenage Americans yankee doodle people hang out and drink milk shakes LOL.
Oooooooooh I’m so happy with all the love I got last night.
last but not the least…
Did you know that Russians give us, citizens of the land of the brown, l’exotique and the natives (aka Philippines), a run for our money when it comes to the MAIL ORDER BRIDE business?
Go check it on google yourself.
"Philippines Mail Order Brides" (1,480,000 results) vs "Russia Mail Order Brides" (2,220,000 results)
On that note, I proudly present you
This is Jane doing one of those Russian bride poses.
I love you all. I really do.
I’m gonna do a Random Cheesemax maybe later or tomorrow.
I need to take a shower, have lunch and meet Mark.
Kool, Kold Kremlin
It’s 6:19PM here in MOCKBA and I just got back from a 5-hour expedition around Moscow with my personal guide.
Spent a couple of hours in/around Kremlin… it really is beautiful.
I’ll keep this post short and I’ll play pictionary instead.
You gotta love men in uniform. Ugh. Sooo hot. Not the fat one in the middle though.
If this ain’t winter, then I don’t know what it is.
I know, I know. I JUST HAVE TO HAVE TO HAVE TO HAVE something with a logo on it. It’s my biggest weakness. Don’t worry… I’ll definitely go logo-free when I go to Paris.
They’ve closed down Red Square because of some concert/event whatever.
That canon is SOOO huge I could fit inside, I swear.
That’s it for now. I have to go. We’re gonna have a huge night out today. Jane just called me and I gotta meet her.
I love you all!
Shopping with Jane
I kicked off the night by a small meal at the Ligne Roset Cafe, followed by a visit at Chanel with my gal pal Jane because she needed to pick up her bag.
We both want these gorgeous pair of gray leather boots. The fuckers were almost US$2,000 a pair and since I’m going to Paris anyway, we both agreed we’ll just get it there so they’re much, much, cheaper.
Aren’t they gorgeous?
Also went to a shop that sold Chloe and found this gorgeous, gorgeous beige coat and it suited me well. Would you believe – I’m a size 36 in CHLOE!!!!!
I know, I know. Like Paris Hilton, I, apparently, have one pose/facial expression on my photos. It’s the trademark sideways/head tilted on the side etc.
I toyed around with the camera yesterday with me making these faces. Ugh. I look awful.
This is probably the first time you’ll see me wearing eyeglasses.
Yes bitches, I’m going blind. It won’t be long till I fucking need a guide dog (I wonder if my furry pets, i.e. William, can guide me on the yellow brick road to glamour.)
I’m like -1.50 on both eyes. Eyeglasses by Alain Mikli.
I finally got some booze into my system yesterday evening.
After hanging out with Jane, I met up with Simon (one of my few remaining Russkyi friends) and we went to this club called the "Three Monkeys".
The doorman asked Simon how old I was because apparently, in spite of the Lagerfeld Galery stole, the Marc by Marc Jacobs hardcore wool cardigan (that was as rough as a fuckin Brilo pad), they thought I looked under 16.
This is what I love about cold weather… closed pores, good skin, youthful looks.
Simon told him I’m 24, that bitch!
We stayed there for like an hour or two because it was soo damn boring and empty. It was a Thursday night afterall.
After Three Monkeys, we went to Propaganda, this bar/club packed favoured by the dirty commoner crowd (ha ha!) – think baggy jeans, jeans and more jeans, sneakers and t-shirts. A lot of foreigners and tourists also like this club because it’s the antithesis of the Muscovite club scene where cash should be flashed and crass is better than class.
Here’s the catch.
The "art director" (think Ian Schrager and Steve Rubell in Studio 54) REFUSED me entry. Simon can get in with his scruffy clothes whereas I was TOO glamorous for the club with my white-tipped fox stole etc.
Welcome to FACE CONTROL.
All clubs in Russia are armed with "art directors" who selects who can get in at their club. Face Control is what you call such art. Many people get refused entry to clubs because of a lot of reasons:
a) they look too ugly for their club
b) they look too beautiful for their club
c) they’re wearing the wrong clothes
d) there’s too many of you (i.e. a group of 5 arrived but they’ll only let 2 people in)
e) you arrived in the wrong car (this is where the Mercedes, Bentley or Jaguar comes handy)
f) you’re not "IT", you don’t have the attitude
g) you’re rude to other people
h) you look poor
i) you look too rich
etc etc etc etc etc
I still can’t believe I got refused entry to Propaganda! In fact, I’ve been here a couple of times last year.
Screw them though.
According to World’s Best Bars, Propaganda is:
Another Propaganda but we forgive them since this is Moscow and they’re the past masters of the dark art. A laid back clubby bar that attracts middle class Russians and moneyed ex-pats plus local and foreign students into techno and acid jazz.
Note the word MIDDLE CLASS.
After Propaganda, Simon and I went to this other club called "Skazka". Again, face control was in full force; in fact, there were a SHITLOAD of people outside waiting to come in,
I’m like, fuck it. Told Simon not to even bother trying because there’s all these people outside.
Where I’m from, I **NEVER** fuckin queue.
Where I’m from, bouncers kick people out in the VIP area just for me to have a table.
Where I’m from, everything is handed to me in a rose-gold platter encrusted in pave diamonds – think Patek.
You wanna know why?
BECAUSE EVERYBODY IN THE LAND OF THE BROWN, L’EXOTIQUE AND THE NATIVES LOVES ME… AND I LOVE THEM, TOO.
All dressed up and nowhere to go, we decided to go to this place called Galereya.
I asked Jane a couple of days ago that we check out Galereya sometime but she said it’s full of pretentious people. It’s the "poshest" place in Moscow where people go to see and be seen (actors, models, etc) and all people do here is show off their wealth etc whereas she’s a low-key kind of gal (although trust me, Jane is ELITNY.. she’s just not into the flash flash car crass crash kind of thing).
Ignoring Jane’s hint not to go there, Simon and I decided to go and boy we had fun.
The place is beautiful, the food is very, very good, there’s this skinny woman with slick blond hair (not the cheap hooker blond hair) with a chinchila shrug… it’s a nice place.
And believe it or not, I didn’t get refused entry. In fact, the service is soo good there.
According to Conde Nast Traveler, Galereya is:
This is a creation of Arkady Novikov – the king of the Moscow restaurant scene who has made Moscow into a place where eating out is the norm, as in New York. It is fittingly glamorous, pulsing with atmosphere and full of beautiful people. Photographic exhibitions give the restaurant a creative edge; Mercedes and BMWs block the road outside. If your face doesn’t fit – too old, too fat, too lacking in Dolce & Gabbana, you won’t get in here. Galereya is not gourmet but everything, from the tuna tartare to the mashed potato, is divine.
I ended up at the hotel at around 4:30AM and promptly went to sleep.
It was an ok night, last night. Not too shabby despite the Propaganda entry refusal. It’s funny how in the past and when Simon and I go to "elitny" (Russian word for elite) places, it’s HIM who gets refused and it’s me who can get in. But this time, at fuckin ghetto Propaganda, it’s the other way around!!!!
At least I know where I belong.
At fuckin Galereya.
It was only Thursday… just a pre-emptive strike for this coming weekend.
BRING ON THE BLING BLING THE NOVYYE RUSSKIYE WAY!!!!!
More updates later. I gotta pack my bags and move to another hotel.
You know where to contact me, as always. Email firstname.lastname@example.org.
Winter’s at its full swing here in MOCKBA.
I’m telling you, it’s sooo fucking cold my balls are turning into the size of raisins it’s not even funny.
It’s been rather snowy today. It’s not even proper snow because it’s only like 0 or -1; it’s slush slush slush.
I met up with good ol’ Jane and her best friend Jane.
I learned something Russian today.
You have to make a wish if you’re a third person or sitting in between 2 people WITH the SAME name because it will become true.
That’s what I did.
No, I didn’t wish for a brand spanking new black crocodile Birkin bag with a clasp covered in pave diamonds.
We had dinner at this Italian place followed by dessert at this restaurant "Akademia" then we went to the Moscow version of Harvey Nichols/Saks/Joyce/Harrods: GUM Department Store.
I found 3 sweaters that I like – 2 cashmere ones from Marni and 1 blue + white + red plaid from McQueen.
Thank god their American Express terminal was DOWN otherwise I would have bought them (even if they’re like 30-60% overpriced).
I figured I’ll just buy them when I go to Paris… or Milan.
I need a chastity belt otherwise I will go there first thing tomorrow morning.
Who would have thought I’d spent my Saturday night completely WASTED?
(God my arms look fat on this photo)
Wasted in the sense where:
1) I didn’t have a strain of alcohol or illegal substances on my system
2) I didn’t go to a bar, night club or any public place where procreation is inevitable
3) I didn’t preen, pose, mince, dance or did any activity that results in weight loss
I had a nice little dinner by myself at my favourite MOCKBA haunt, the Vogue Cafe. The service is REALLY good. The coat check man still remembered me from last year. The pastries woman said hi. My waitress took really good care of me from start to finish. When she saw me hang my Dior East/West Flight bag on my chair, she gave me a mini-chair for my handbag. When she saw me whip out my Marlboro Ultra Lights cigarette, she quickly rushed to me with a lighter. It was comfort and service at its finest.
Anyway, I had a crab salad, veal tenderloin, some orange juice and 2 xanax pills.
All of my Russian friends were busy last night, i.e. some were still at work, some had prior engagements etc. In other words, yes, I was alone yesterday night.
I don’t mind it though; I’m sure they all have their lives and it would be rude of me to demand that I see them every single day when I’m gonna be here for the next 12 days.
I got back to the hotel by 7PM, slept at around 9PM and got up at 6AM.
I am sooo homesick. I have no idea why.
Travelling solo flight is definitely a mind-blowing experience. It makes you realize how alone you are in the world and how you miss things back home.
I have all the time in the world at the moment and I hate it.
At least my Russian sable fur hat is gorgeous.
Ignore my thunder thighs. I swear I’m not gonna eat carbs from now on.
I haven’t had a single grain of rice since I got here.
I miss my family, my home, my room (that feels like a fucking sauna, even with the airconditioning on).
I miss Filipino food.
I miss my maid, Eunice.
I miss my domestic, short-haired, breedless, cat, Pinkie.
I miss my dauchshund, Bruno.
I miss my crappy car and calling poor people to pay them US$10 to drive me around for an entire day because our family driver is soo unreliable.
I miss going out at night only to go home at around 9 in the morning, no questions asked from my familia de horreur.
I miss sashaying down the third world malls in my first world outfits with typical Filipino people thinking my Birkin bag is a working woman’s bag (i.e. bank tellers etc).
All I can say is, when the going gets tough, the tough gets Dee-yor.
That’s exactly what I said back in July 14,2005.
I’m currently staying for free at my hotel in Moscow. I redeemed some of my Starwood Preferred Guest points. I know it’s not a suite but hey, I’ll take it if it’s for free. I’m transferring though to another hotel in a few days.
My room is soo messy and it’s my fault. I’ve got all my shit scattered all over the place.
It’s times like this that I realize, shit, I’m so lucky to have my own maid in the land of the brown, l’exotique and the natives.
NEVER underestimate a household help’s magic. Even if they have ruined a Lucien Pellat-Finet sweater in the past by getting in laundried instead of dry-cleaned.
I’ve been in Moscow now for 3 days and today is the first day I saw slush since I got here. I hope it’s a sign that it’s gonna snow soon, this way I’ll get to wear my Dior snowboots.
Bring on the fucking blizzard you mother nature you.
Time Magazine will probably name you as "Person of the Year" when it could have been ME you fucking bitch.
I paid VERY good money just to experience a fuckin blizzard.
If all you’re giving me is fuckin slush (i.e. green mango/white grape shake) that I could’ve bought at a restaurant in the Philippines, I should’ve just stayed at home, throw ice cubes in my blender and throw it in the air like glitter at a Studio 54 party.
Bryanboy Loves… and Random Cheesemax
#1 – Bryanboy loves people from Pittem, Belgium, Kingsthorpe, Queensland, Hartsdale, NY, Mobile, AL, Littleton, CO, Davis, CA, Lemon Grove, CA, Maryknoll, NY, Sunnyvale,CA, Austin, TX, Evanston, IL and of course, people from my home town, the national capital of the land of the brown, l’exotique and the natives, MANILA, PHILIPPINES!
#2 – Notable Mentions. I appeared at VH1′s Best Week Ever’s website again…. and at MetaFilter.com.
#3 – Chloe Paddington bags are available at the Chloe Boutique in Beijing. Oh yes, there’s a couple in black, olive green and a maroon-like color.
#4- Louis Vuitton in Moscow is the place where you can get all your Limited Edition pieces. Boy, they have a shitload of limited editions over there and it’s not as expensive as what you think. In fact, most of the pieces there are the same price in Manila. I think it’s Louis Vuitton’s policy to have the same price everywhere else (except in local currency conversions).
#5 – Lots of love from all over the world. I know I said NO PHOTOSHOP but I guess I’ll make exceptions because I’m FUCKING homesick. Miami, Copenhagen and Paris.
(Sebastian darling, I know Copenhagen loves me but will YOU fuck me?)
(Say hello to Pablo Chester, Paris’ Black Diva. Loves it baby, loves it!)
#6 – If you’re in Manila, will you PLEASE, pretty PLEASE, buy a copy of this month’s Fudge Magazine with Harry Potter on the cover? I think I’m there and I need you to scan the pages where I’m on it. I’ll forever be indebted – I’ll give you sexual favours when I get back. I promise. Email me the scans.
I think that’s it. I’m meeting a few friends today, it’s Sunday and I hope to get decent pictures done later.
As always, you know where to contact me.
I’m homesick you fucking bitches!!!!
Email email@example.com or SMS my Moscow number, +7-926-437-6332.
I love you all.
Vroom Vroom Vuitton
(image courtesy of Vuitton.com)
Yes bitches, I totally missed the Vuitton event of the year. I know, I know, if only I could kick my fuckin ass, I would.
Consider it as a blessing in disguise though.
I’d be bankrupt by now with all the shopping I could have done that night had I gone to that event.
Seriously, I’d be found at the nearest street corner selling my soul (and sperm cells) just to pay for my credit card bills.
But yeah, the store is gorgeous.
Get ready to salivate my dear minions.
Click any of the images below for the larger version.
(image courtesy of Vuitton.com)
Whether you like it or not, when you say Paris, I say Louis. When you say France, I say Vuitton.
When you say Louis Vuitton, I say HAIL MARC JACOBS.
Wanna know the other thing that made me palpitate?
Trish Goff is alive and well!
I was researching my accommodation options for my upcoming fall/winter escapade next month and one thing that caught my eye is the new (and Moscow’s first) boutique hotel that opened earlier this year.
I know, I know, I’m getting 14 nights FOR FREE at a different hotel because of my frequent hotel points. Gotta love American Express!
According to my Russian sources, the hotel is quite stylish. The rates aren’t that bad, too. They range anywhere between US$180 – US$300 per night. Whereas the cheapest room at the Hyatt hotel runs at US$600 PER night!!!!
That’s the thing about hotels in Moscow – they charge extortionate rates so this Golden Apple Hotel is truly a gem, budget-wise.
Moscow is not THE place to be if you don’t have dough… unless of course you want to stay in a soviet-era type hotel room with hookers on the street and cockroaches that crawl the walls.
Check their website out: www.goldenapple.ru.