Boy I love Hard Gay… what a character he is. Hahahaha!
Someone just make me famous god dammit! I’m glad to know the Japanese are keeping the faggotry alive.
I’ll update in a bit!
Boy I love Hard Gay… what a character he is. Hahahaha!
Someone just make me famous god dammit! I’m glad to know the Japanese are keeping the faggotry alive.
I’ll update in a bit!
The African-American BryanBoy?
I’m at a loss of words! OH. MY. GOD. That is sooo totally fetch. Felch. Fetch. Felch. Fech. Fetch. Flech. Hahahahah. The lovely folks at Crunk + Disorderly, one of the world’s BEST blogs dedicated to the fabulous black community, certainly knows how to make my day.
What’s up with the bag, girlfriend? It looks like I’m gonna be able to fit inside it! The belt totally doesn’t match your outfit… and that vest? SOOOO SEVERE! Oh dear. Hideous. Just hideous. I guess you’re trying to copy this look I did back on April… yes? Darling, fire your stylist and hire me instead!!! I love you though but you DOOOOOO look like you went on a lootin’ spree.
Shit, I used to be like that AGES ago… you know… I was MAJOR FASHION VICTIM GALORE! I slapped on all the logos AT THE SAME TIME…. I LOOKED GROSS AND HIDEOUS….but hey, there’s a thing called evolution and you, my black bryanboy friend, can change, just like me! There’s hope!!!!
In fact, here’s a photo from before. Icky!!!! Look at all that logo a gogo madness!!!! NASTY! I swear to my grandfather’s grave I will NEVER, EVER, EVER, EVER DO IT AGAIN. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Anyway, take note how BBB got at least 100 comments. Click here to read them all. All of them are fucking hilarious.
He is a hot tacky ass mess! Labels do not equal fab! I’ll have to submit some pics of some of my true fab friends who really bring the heat in the style dept. Bryan Boy does it better. Noah’s Arc is a really cute show, too bad the "boys" don’t feel it though.
Who let this fool out the damn house. Honestly is the 1st GAY HOODRAT I’ve seen in a long time…
He’s doing too much! Belt, bag, sunglasses, vest, scarf, necklace, cell phone… uh… tether, sidekick. This brother looks like the accessories aisle in Macy’s.
This fool dressed up with too many accessories…Looks like he just came from lootin and grabbed anything he could get his hands on through the broke windows..
I’m gonna hafta disagree wit’cha on this one Fresh…whilst dude may be stylin’ he just doesn’t have that saguafaire (sic) that Bryanboy has…maybe Bryanboy can tutor him to get his faggotry in motion swagger on…Bryanboy is simplistic in his fashion but it says alot, plus he’s just not as sexy as Bryanboy is either…Baboosh!
I have checked out that Bryan boy blog and he is the truth. I love almost everything he wears. It is always coordinated. Unlike this creature who threw on everything he owned with a namebrand on it. This dude is a walking billboard.
About Dwen Curry not AS fabulostic as Bryan Boy (because the gayest gay that ever gayed has beautiful skin and he is so cute you just want to eat him to pieces) but he is very FABULOUS nonetheless, kind of like a step above Kimora and her sausage link neck, and plus is always good to have us a national FWLL (Fag We Love to Love) in deep chocolate brown
Having fierce labelz ain’t shyt, unless ur workin’ it to proper effect! The effect given here is just plain ova the top; ver, ver, geto booster. It can work at the ball, but if you walk into Saks, Neiman’s or Barney’s, with this look homebuscuit, ur azz is mos def gonna be trailed by security lovely!
I guess it’s nice to know that thousands of African-Americans out there love me. YO’ BITCHES SEND ME "I LOVE BRYANBOY" SIGN PICS!
FOR GOD’S SAKE SOMEONE JUST FUCKING SEND ME ON EXILE TO AMERICA AND GIVE ME MY OWN TV SHOW AND A SHITLOAD OF SPONSORSHIPS AND MAKE ME FILTHY RICH!
Photo credit: Willy Saw
There is only one Bryanboy… keep the faggotry alive!
I love each and every one of you, as always. Email me… email@example.com!
Oh, btw, here’s another Devil Wears Prada clip. I fucking can’t wait for this movie!!!!!
The British Royal Family farts, too.
Hahahahaha! I highly doubt this ever got published in any UK media but the following set of photos are hi-fucking-larious.
The following photos were taken at the Queen’s Birthday celebrations where members of the British Royal family are in full force. Take note the sequence of events.
All prim and proper. God I want Prince Harry to rape me. He’s wayyy cuter than Prince William, who’s got awful teeth and a bald patch. Prince Philipp, on the other hand, sent out a loud and smelly fart…
see Prince Harry and Prince Philipp unable to control their laughter.
Prince Charles to Prince Harry: "we’ve got a shitload of people staring at us so watch it, bitch."
Take note of the look on the Queen’s face. Priceless.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA I love it!
I love you all!
Big update coming in a bit. Email firstname.lastname@example.org or SMS +63.915.785.1492.
Familia de Horreur
I’m sure you’ve heard the news how we’ve got this huge storm that hit my motherland, the land of the brown, l’exotique and the natives aka Las Islas Filipinas. I feel terrible knowing that over 21 people died, over 6,000 people are left homeless. At least that’s what the Washington Post said.
But that didn’t stop me and from getting my nails done and a massage yesterday. Hurricane or not, I won’t let mama nature steer me away from pampering myself.
To hell with gray skies, rain and the nasty wind. I LOOOVE the weather! It’s supposed to be hot, hot summer hot in this tropical archipelago but we’re blessed with a beautiful, gorgeous, rainy gray yesterday – I finally got the chance to layer up underneath my Norma Kamali for Everlast gray puffy-sleeved cropped cardigan.
I spent the entire afternoon with all 3 of my siblings. Everyone’s got a busy schedule and it was rare for all 4 of us to be together. We’re not by all means a "perfect" family but it was nice and refreshing to enjoy each other’s company without fighting or having a argument even for a second. I think it’s because of the fact that none of us are getting younger these days. In fact, we even ditched the maids and we all took turns taking photos and videos of each other. It was amazing and fun.
Our first stop was Tips and Toes where we had manicures, pedicures and back massages.
Cropped hoodie by Norma Kamali for Everlast, sunglasses from Dior, white t-shirt from Topshop, silk scarf from Chanel, fish necklace from Chanel, faux pearls from a store I can’t remember, chain, leader and bead necklace from a local boutique called "Firmas", jeans by Acne (Sweden), boots from Chanel, metallic spy bag from Fendi.
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Work it like you own it. Fake it till you make it!
Anyway, we all used to fight one another and our parents would always tell us that we shouldn’t be fighting cause at the end of the day, we really got no one else other than each other. Fuck friends. "Friends" come and go and these days, they are dime in a dozen… and screw "life partners" and their variants. Boyfriends, girlfriends and "life partners" only last till they dump you.
(That’s ***MY*** turqouise necklace right there that Mrs. T gave to me and I haven’t even used yet!! UGH!!. The evil bitch troll gets to use some of my things first I hate it! LOL)
After Tips and Toes, we went to the Coffee Bean where I had a tuna sandwich (I only ate the tuna and the lettuce) and the usual vanilla ice-blended with NO WHIPPED CREAM.
Buy this month’s (MAY) Mega Magazine because I have a photo of me there somewhere.
I know all my siblings are fatter than me and believe it or not, there were times… many, many times how I thought I was the adopted child or I got switched at the nursing room at the hospital when I was born. The hell with it, my siblings probably think I’m soooo ashamed of them because of the way I act whenever we’re out in the public and they’d go all weird and loud and crap. Sometimes I’d take the piss at them and tell them they’re all short, fat and they dress like hookers or how they should stop borrowing my shit cause they’ve got theirs or other silly, random things. God, I must have hurt their feelings. Hahahaha!
If I may so, I’m a complete pig myself and I’m not the skinny young twink I used to be.
Nevertheless, yesterday was the only day that I realized that in spite of my sibling’s flaws…. OUR flaws (mine included), these are the people who have stood by me through thick and thin and will always be there for me no matter what happens. Blood is thicker than water indeed. I’m so fortunate to have them and I would NEVER EVER trade them for anything else. I’m also lucky that my siblings keep me close to reality… they’re the perfect antidote to all my drama and pretentions. They keep both of my feet on the ground. Unlike me, they’re all modest and humble, which makes my life balanced.
After the Coffee Bean, I went to the Body Shop to pick up some essentials.
And then we all went to meet up with the parentals for dinner at this Thai/Asian restaurant called "Banana Leaf", which I keep on mistaking for "Banyan Tree", which is a lovely chain of lovely hotels and spa in South East Asia.
I guess I should never be ashamed of my familia de horreur. Afterall, I’m lucky, very lucky, that in spite of being the black sheep in the family, they love me so much.
I JUST WISH I HAVE EXTREMELY WEALTHY POLICITIANS OR BUSINESSMEN AS PARENTS WHO WILL SPOIL ME ROTTEN BECAUSE THEY’RE ALWAYS BUSY WITH WORK OR THEIR EXTENDED NUCLEAR FAMILIES. I WANT SKINNY TALL MODELS AS SIBLINGS!!!! WHO NEEDS LOVE WHEN DADDY CAN EFFORTLESSLY BUY ME A BENTLEY? WHO NEEDS MOTHERLY ADVICE WHEN MUMMY WILL BUY ME EVERYTHING I WANT AT CHANEL? I WANT MONEY MONEY MONEY!!!!!!!! I WANT THE SPOILED CHILD WHO NEVER HADE FAMILIAL LOVE!!!HAHAHAHAHAHA!
All I can say is, my family may not be "picture perfect" but at least we’re SERIOUSLY not dysfunctional. I know I shouldn’t be judging other families because every one has a story to tell but I can’t help it… I have to share this sense of pride inside of me. I’m very proud that my parents have never cheated on each other, they don’t have unwanted spawn with some third party demon, they almost never fight and in spite of them not spoiling me rotten to the core and giving me EVERYTHING MATERIAL that I want, having a family who is ever so loving, accepting and understanding such as mine makes me want to forget all the fabulous material things in the world.
On that profound note, I’d like to greet my obese mother a happy mother’s day. Thank god you’re losing weight. I’m sooo jealous of those kids with skinny mothers. HAHAHAHAHA! But yeah, I’m glad your newfound DVD addiction helps. Keep up the good work. Losing 11 pounds is quite an achievement.
Oh and I know you guys got married on October and gave birth to me on March the following year. You can deny that I’m a love child (or a result of premarital sex) all you want but I’m still proud of you mum and I love, love, love you.
Today’s Obligatory Paparazzi Shot(s)
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God I’m fucking gorgeous in spite of the rain. Thank you lord almighty for making me pretty.
Coming up in a few hours… a new podcast and a new video. Stay tuned!
Email me and tell me you love me. Email email@example.com or SMS +63.915.785.1492.
I love you all!
PPSS. Keep the love and the pose photos coming!
LATEST UPDATE (12:55PM): FUCK IT. I’M TOO TIRED AND I’VE BEEN UP SINCE 8PM YESTERDAY NIGHT. I’LL GO TO STARBUCKS TOMORROW WITH *MY* DRIVER AND MY MOM’S MAID.
OH AND JAKOB, MY LOVERBOY FROM BUMFUCK MIDDLE OF NOWHERE SWEDEN, I’LL DO OUR SIMPLE LIFE PICS LATER WHEN I GET UP. I’M GONNA SLEEP NOW. BABOOSH!
Bryanboy Loves… and Random Cheesemax
1. Bryanboy loves people from Shanghai, China, Slacks Creek, QLD Australia, Paterson, NJ, the country of Singapore, Suita, Osaka Japan, Sekudai, Johor Malaysia, Buenos Aires, Argentina, Federal, Entre Rios Argentina, Huntsville, AL, Guildford, UK, Madrid, Spain, Dublin, Ireland, Corvallis, OR, Mahwah, NJ, Adelaide, Australia, Revere, MA and of course, all the super kawaii people of Tokyo, Japan. I love each and every one of you mother fuckers. Say hi, don’t be shy. You know you wanna get my pregnant.
2. Is there anyone out there who wants to commit suicide? I need a suicide partner. I hate this whole Labor Day Holiday bullshit. My maid, Eunice, embarked on a month-long vacation and won’t come back till late May. My driver, who I’ve had for the past 5 months, took the day off to spend time with his family. Believe it or not, I can’t, for the life of god, remember his name. I call him "Manong", which is a Filipino word for "respected elderly man". And then there’s my evil bitch troll of a sister, who promised me she’ll drive me to Starbucks 4 HOURS AGO because I’m having this weird iced cafe latte craving. I wanted to take that opportunity so I can pose for the camera and have pictures of me taken… but no, her shitty boyfriend went here for lunch so now he’s her main priority. That guy makes me feel weird. He goes here ALL the time… for hours… sometimes to sleep over. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have anything against him. He’s a nice young lad and he takes good care of the evil bitch troll sister. You see, I roam around the house with nothing but boxers on. Ever since I was a child, I walk around the halls of my humble abode, half-naked. I wore nothing but tight, white, y-front briefs when I was a child and before I had my menstruation. When my tight, cherry got popped for the first time (hello incontinence), things changed so I had to switched to boxers. Isn’t it kinda stupid? To feel RESTRICTED in YOUR OWN house? I don’t feel good when there’s a stranger out there who can see me in my underwear. I have no choice but to lock myself in my room and pray that god take him, or anyone for that matter such as an unwanted visitor, away. So here I am, sleepless at 1PM, with no personal maid, no driver, no sister to act as a driver AND maid. Fucking assholes. All of them are fucking useless assholes. I was gonna borrow my mom’s maid, Margie, but there’s no one to drive me to Starbucks. You know, I really feel shit. So this is what it feels like not to have anyone when you need them most. ALL I WANT IS A TRIP TO STARBUCKS AND GET MY
WHY OH WHY OH WHY OH FUCKING WHY DOES GOD
HAVE TO TAKE THAT TINY LITTLE THING AWAY FROM ME?
#3 – I think I know who to blame on today’s misfortune. It’s those psychopath religious fanatics who have been emailing and texting me in the past couple of days giving me flak because I replaced Mama Mary’s face with mine on this illustration. Look assholes, save your religious sermon for someone else.
I’ll update in a bit cause my evil bitch troll sister told me she’s gonna drive me to Starbucks.
THERE IS A GOD AFTERALL!!!!!
HALLELUJAH HOUSE OF CHANEL!
Back to Square One You Sad, Pathetic Fag
Yesterday was one heck of a night. A night I’ll (sadly)always remember… a night I most certainly want to forget. Posting about it probably won’t help but I need to vent out.
Before going to the party, I had a feeling something’s up in the air.
Remember how I told y’all I got so drunk each and every night when I went on that mini island holiday?
I’ve been told last night that I really hurt and offended a lot of people last weekend. I got absolutely drunk one night and I verbally lashed out on everyone who was with me at the time – the same people who believed in me and supported me right from the start. Apparently I was being obnoxious, rude and said a lot of painful shit.
I honestly can’t remember what exactly happened and what it is that I said to everyone that night. I simply have no recollection whatsoever. At all. I do remember going back to the hotel at 4AM and I passed out on the floor after taking a sleeping pill.
I cringed with horror when I heard about my (unacceptable) behavior. I had tears in my eyes when they told me about it. I apologized to the people involved but one can tell the damage I made was irreparable.
Anyway, I saw someone I haven’t seen in the longest time. I always have fun everytime I see him. I’ve learned a lot from this person. I gained insight every time we had a conversation… conversations that sometimes lasted for hours. I’ve always felt confident and I trusted this person completely. His words are extremely warm and comforting. He understands everything I’m saying without any fail.
I opened up to him about things that are going on. How and what I feel. We talked about my behavior over the weekend. We talked about a lot of things, some of my problems etc. I felt happy again. Shit, happy isn’t the appropriate word to use. I felt secure. Yes. Secure – someone I can open up with, just what I needed at the time.
I showed him several messages on my phone. This is my biggest mistake and this is clearly where I’m at fault.
There were 4 messages.
One of them is a snippet from the anonymous blog comment/email I got. I didn’t have time to print the entire thing so I sent myself a text message the part where it said "we actually hate u even just a glimps of ur shaddow or just hearing the tone of ur barked up voice. "oh here comes trannie agen, pretend were all dolled up on him and amazed about his bags". That was 10:51PM.
The other 3 messages were genuine advice from friends. 2 of which came from the same person while the other came from somebody else.
The rest is history and better left unsaid.
To cut the story short, I ended up igniting an argument.
It’s hard to put words on how I feel. I think disgust is the right word.
I’m disgusted at myself.
I’m digusted at my poor judgment of people.
I’m disgusted for taking other people’s precious advice for granted.
I’m disgusted for betraying people’s trust in me.
I’m digusted for not being sensitive enough on all of my actions.
I’m disgusted at myself for trusting people too easily I break other people’s confidence in me in the process.
There really is no one else to blame other than myself. Why did I even bother showing my messages and advice I got (even as part of conversation) when it’s none of his business?
And you know what’s really sad? This isn’t the first time it happened. It happened to me many, many times and I still haven’t learned from my mistakes.
All of my friendships and relationships have always been short-lived because I fuck things up big time. I have this (effortless) tendency of breaking other people’s confidence in me because I simply don’t know when AND how to shut the fuck up.
Perhaps this is exactly the reason why I am quite possibly the most materialistic son of a bitch in this planet. My life is one big mess. I’m a complete failure everywhere I go, everything that I do and everyone I deal with. And sometimes… no… and most of the time, I delude myself into thinking things will get better by shopping. Reality check: what else do I have at this point other than a bunch of designer bags that will depreciate its value over time?
I have no one.
I have nothing!
This experience taught me a lot of things.
Friends eh? You gain some, you lose them all.
Here’s the funny thing: I’m at that stage where I want to call someone… anyone… anyone whom I consider a "friend", just to reach out, open up and burst.
But I won’t. Because I know one way or another I’ll fuck up. Just like what I’ve always done in the past.
Err no. that’s not the reason why.
I won’t call someone/anyone because I don’t have the balls and the face to put up after this whole thing happened.
I need a clean slate. Yes. That’s what I need.
A clean slate and a new me.
Hi. I’m Bryan. Will you be my friend?
I think you’re better off by saying NO.
I’m destined to be alone forever. Always have, always will.
It’s 2:30PM, Sunday, April 9, 2006.
BRYANBOY EXPOSé: I’M A TEENAGE MOM!
I think it was my mom who once told me that no one can really keep a secret forever. You can’t bring your secrets to the grave. All secrets (apparently), no matter how dark or well-kept they are, get revealed at one point.
I don’t know what your secrets are but I, for one, had to face one of the skeletons in my closet, thanks to my stomach-sucking skills, who failed me for the first time last night.
Cha-ching! What the fuck is that????
That’s me with the birthday girls, Tessa and Xeng.
Yes bitches, I’m fucking pregnant. Again!
You’d think the little fucker got flushed the last time I had a round of diarrhea but little miss bo peep peep got wolverine claws.
I don’t even know who knocked me up! Shit, if only I knew who the father of my unwanted fetus is… I’d be knocking on their fucking doorstep and ask for liposuction money!
Photo credit: Mark Nicdao
I went to my usual haunt La Embajada last night for Xeng and Tessa’s party. The usual suspects were there and boy I had soooo much fun.
It was a good night… shit, I got home at fucking 5:30AM!!!!
So many pictures, so little space.
Believe it or not, people I don’t even know came up to me and talked to me.
I. met. new. people!
It’s amazing how I meet sooooo many people these days.
Around the same time last year I didn’t know shit. I love it. I really do.
I mean, let’s face it, I might as well enjoy it now while I’m at my peak because if I don’t play my cards right, I’ll look like that in a couple of years time.
I HAVE SEEN THE FUTURE AND I SWEAR TO MY DEAD GRANDFATHER’S GRAVE THAT I AM NOT GOING TO END UP LOOKING LIKE THIS.
One day, I’m gonna meet a tall, gorgeous, filthy rich man with ill gotten wealth (gambling, corruption, drugs, extortion, weapons of mass destruction, whatever).
Just as my Mexican buddy Mauricio told me, I’ll be a trophy wife.
We’re gonna be going out in our Lanvin pearls, our Givenchy skirt suits, Roger Vivier stilettos, De Grisogono watch, huge Nancy Gonzalez crocodile satchels in shy black, Stephen Jones hats, Boucheron sunglasses and Revillon furs.
We’ll have lunch at Alain Ducasse, dinners at Le Voltaire and have cocaine-fuelled romps at the Ritz in Paris.
We’ll run out hysterically to the Dior Joaillerie dropping mad plastic. We’ll even have weekly liposuctions.
Shit, we’ll be just like Brigid Berlin (Andy Warhol hanger-on) and her sister Richie, who goes to Bloomingdale’s after getting amphetamine shots just to pick out new clothes and walk out of the store with them on, leaving their old clothes behind.
Not at Bloomingdale’s though… Alaia!
Oh god. I can’t wait to resurrect the fucking concorde… spend my morning and afternoons in Paris and evenings in New York.
Oh I love Mauricio. He’s in Madrid now though. *sigh*
Bryanboy Loves… and Random Cheesemax
#1 – Bryanboy loves people from Hanoi, Vietnam, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, Kelso, NSW Australia, Seoul, South Korea, Kuching, Sarawak Malaysia, Hoogvliet, Holland, Darch, VIC Australia, Banksmeadow, NSW Australia, Glasgow, Scotland, Beijing, China, Bangkok, Thailand, Jonkopping, Sweden, Kareela, NSW Australia, Zamboanga Del Sur, Philippines (OMG they have internet down there?), Wuliao, Taiwan and of course, all the cuties who live in Calgary, AB Canada!! I love you all! Identify yourselves bitches and say hello.
#2 – I have another live interview coming up in a few days. This time I’ll wear Helmut Lang. We’ll see.
#3 – If you’re near the Quezon City area, be sure to visit Green Papaya Art Projects (www.greenpapaya.org) at 124A Maginhawa St., Teachers Village East, Diliman QC on Feb 16 or 17 at 9PM. Tickets cost P100 (or US$2).
Anatomy of Humiliation in Desire (Anatomy Project 3) is a collaborative research project by artists from diverse disciplines as contemporary dance, video, new media and sound, that captures the awkward, hesitation and poignant in human relationships. It aims to investigate the paradox of love by venturing into the ambiguous space that separates love from hate, violence and tenderness, anticipation and hesitation, fear and bewilderment. Dancers research on the physicality of naïve and inexplicable emotions by exploring the gestures, movement and bodily attitude suggesting the violence, fear, irony, humor and humiliation of falling in love. Both audience and artists attempt the cartography of humiliation in desire in an evening of frenzied awkwardness, anxious hesitation, laughter and frustration.
#4 – Lots of stunning photo submissions from my readers all over the world.
Holy shit. Even an entire class (from the top law school/ivy league unis in the country) sent me a photo of their unconditional love. Say hello to these lawyers/future lawyers. Click here for the full-sized version.
It’s nice to see the faces of the people who will defend me in the event I murder someone in the future for life insurance money or a good handbag.
God. I’m shocked!
This is what happens when your girl_friend (or should I say girlfriend?) forced you to wear stilettos and carry a Longchamp bag.
These kids are soooo adorable.
Isn’t Riza sweet?
#5 – I have one thing to say to all these Swedish faggots in denial:
Om du inte vet din stil, maybe its maybelline!!!!!!
#6 – I hate it when old flames rekindle well, old flames. Where’s Dr. Phil when you need him most?
#7 – Brazilian Michael Camiloto (Gucci boy) is just hot. Hot, hot, hot, hot, hot! Courtesy of BlogMadeinBrazil.com. I’m telling you, I am soo going to Brazil one day and get myself a hot Brazilian papi to bring me shopping to Daslu (if they’re still open by the time I get there).
#8 – I would like to thank Thomas Ruppel for telling me what I already knew.
#9 – Thank god I’m NOT the only one in the world looking like crap leaving the dermatologist’s/aesthetician’s clinic after a facial.
#10 – 12 MORE DAYS AND IT’S FREAKIN VALENTINE’S DAY!
If I’m not mistaken, I have been single for 22 out of 23 years on Valentine’s Day. There was a year when I was with someone but the loser was in New York and sent me home-baked sugar cookies via FedEx.
I NEED A DATE GOD DAMMIT.
I’VE NEVER BEEN ON A VALENTINE’S DAY DATE IN MY LIFE. EVER!
Tell me you love me. Tell me you wanna buy me dinner at my favourite Italian restaurant, L’Opera, here in the Third World on Valentine’s day. Tell me you wanna give me a dozen red roses, a kilo of Pierre Marcolini chocolates and a tiny red box with a shiny big present from Cartier.
Email firstname.lastname@example.org or SMS +63-915-785-1492.
God. I hate ageing.
I’M GOING TO TAKE OVER THE WORLD… AND I’M SCARED!
God knows why my throat is friggin sore. It’s been like this since late last week and it only keeps on getting worse. It feels as if there’s someone cutting my throat with a pair of garden shears. I haven’t been a bad boy; it’s been more than a month since my mouth got in contact with an unidentified throbbing object.
I think it’s time for me to seriously stop smoking.
Fuck, I’ve been smoking since I was 14, possibly younger. You can blame it on my cousins who taught me how to smoke while listening to Alanis Morisette in their car right on my grandma’s wake/funeral.
It’s 5:39AM and I can’t sleep. At all. I haven’t been to my shrink since last year so I don’t have any prescription manna that would put me to heaven. Oh god, did I just say that?
I have this icky feeling at the pit of my stomach that won’t go away.
I tried to count sheep hoping it would induce dreams that involve a gorgeous, fit, 20-something prince charming with nice teeth and a nice smile plus a shopping spree at Chanel.
(OH FUCK IT. WHO THE HELL NEEDS A PRINCE CHARMING WHEN DIY IS MORE SELF-SATISFYING THESE DAYS?)
I got really disturbing thoughts instead.
May god rescue me from the horrors of insanity. I’m too young to be a nutcase!
1) I thought about my lower back pains. I’ve been getting these weird lower back pains the past few months now. It’s bad enough if I’m sitting in front of my desk… it gets worse as soon as I lie down. I asked myself (mentally, that is) ‘I wonder if I should go to my dad’s room and tell him to bring me to the hospital now cause my back pains are really bad?’
2) I just spent 2-3 hours (we ended our conversation at 5AM!!!) chatting to a wonderful, new-but-not-so-new acquaintance who showered me with her wisdom and wise words. One thing she said that hit me really good was something along the lines of "you really gotta love what you do because in the end it’s really not about the money that makes you go to work… it’s the love of the job."
3) I really don’t know where I’m heading right now. I want a sense of direction but my mind’s all over the place. I want to do this. I want to do that. I forgot to do this. I forgot to do that. I gotta do this. I gotta do that. I KNOW I’m definitely going somewhere but it FEELS I’m not going anywhere.
Errr maybe I should change that to ‘I KNOW I’m not going anywhere but it FEELS I’m going somewhere’?
Know what I mean?
4) I think I might have lost weight. I felt my pelvic bone and my rib cage again!
5) I’m gonna die a happy woman if I get to meet former First Lady Imelda Marcos.
6) You know, I actually thought about death too… I HATE IT when things like that pop in my head randomly. It feels as if I’m actually gonna die. I like to think of myself as immortal. Hello – I’ve said it many, many times. I want to be 75 and wear Oscar De La Renta.
It’s sooo creepy. It’s like, the more I think about death, the more I feel I’m gonna die soon. I wanted to bring it up on my blog before but the thought of me dying soon as a result of TALKING ABOUT DEATH itself bugs me.
Am I making sense? I hope so.
Shit, I think it was yesterday that I actually made a mental will of some sort. I don’t even wanna talk about it because of the fear that I might die soon.
Do you talk about wills and all? Probably not.
UGH! DELETE DELETE DELETE THIS THOUGHT OFF MY HEAD.
*PURGE* *PURGE* *PURGE*
I HAVE 5 HOURS TO SLEEP AND I’M GONNA SURVIVE IT! I’LL WAKE UP STUNNING AND FRESH.
Today’s gonna be one heck of a day – I gotta be up by 11AM cause I have a meeting with one of the biggest fashion magazines in the Philippines. I’m gonna meet their Editor in Chief as well as a couple of editors. I’m also meeting a creative team later this afternoon to discuss a project I’m brewing.
It’s 6:24AM and I’m gonna try to go to sleep… for the umpteenth time this morning.
On that note, check out this video of Kate Moss. This is exactly why I love her. I loved the part where she banged her head to the fan.
Email email@example.com or SMS +63-915-785-1492. Tell me I’m pretty. Tell me you love me.
Heck, if I managed to be the most beautiful creature Champs-Elysees had seen in years, I’m sure you can, too.
Sweet dreams and good night!
I Finally Look Like a Boy Again.
It’s 4:46PM and I’ve been awake for the past 24 hours. I should really go to sleep but I thought it would be best if I post here before doing so.
I left the house early this morning to go to the salon. This is me at around 11AM.
The last time I had a haircut was a day or two before I left…. back in November.
Long hair doesn’t suit me because my hair is really thick.
I had some color work done, some highlights, a haircut and my nails…
Meet my coiffure… after 2 hours…
It’s amazing how a polo t-shirt can wipe an entire decade off my age.
I feel (and look) like I’m 14 again!
I’m knackered to the bone. I’m gonna hit the sack.
More updates later including my celebrity issue. Check in a couple of hours.
Y’all know where to contact me. Email firstname.lastname@example.org.
P.S. A big big hello/NI-HAO to all my readers in China, especially from my friends and frenemies at BBS Trendsmag !!!! I noticed a huge surge of traffic from there… I love you all! I miss Beijing.. and I wanna go to Shanghai!
He’s from the Netherlands. He’s this aspiring young male model who will go to Milan this January for the shows.
I started talking to him a couple of weeks ago whilst I was in Copenhagen. Or somewhere. He’s nice and sweet though a little immature — I don’t blame him, he’s only 18, practically a fetus in my books.
Here are some pics of him at his modelling agency’s website.
and some of the pics that he sent me before… mind you, he’s such a cam whore as well. He must have sent me over 500,000 pictures of himself. I love it. Isn’t he adorable?
He’s also the reason why I ended up going to Musee D’Orsay in Paris (he told me I have to have to have to have to have to go there) and take "I love Tim" pictures.
Overall he’s a nice guy but the fucker is too high-maintenance. He’s someone who constantly demands attention and he has to be complimented, praised and admired all the fucking time.
Today, however, I unleashed the monster from within him… and it all started from a screen capture of one of our webcam conversations.
Yep – he loves his webcam alright.
Look closely at his fingernails and tell me whether you can see what I saw.
I for one don’t have 100% flawless nails 24/7/35 and I certainly won’t deny that there are times when my nails look as if they belong to a gardener or a farmer.
Take a closer look. Tim continously said his nails are white, short and clean.
If those aren’t long then I don’t know what is!
Anyway, he became a complete bitch, telling me I’m mean. Heck, all this guy tells me 99% of the time is the fact that I’m FUCKING mean.
I say something a little aloof, he comes around telling me I’m mean.
If I’m sooo fucking mean all the time, I don’t understand why he continues to talk to me.
Stupid fucking kids.
Don’t you just hate them?
I’m kidding!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHA =)
Remind me NOT to talk to
young immature people any more.
What I need is a young-looking, late 20-somethings (25, 26, 27, 28, 29) or 30-somethings (31, 32, 33….) *hint hint* who will spoil me rotten and treat me like a fucking princess.
Fuck all those boy toys. Everyone knows that they are only good while they last.
P.S. My Paris Photo Album is now up and available for public view. There are over 300 pictures in my collection. Feel free to browse it and tell me what your favourite photo OF ME is. Let me know what you think.