You should’ve seen the look on my face when I got up. I only had 4 hours of sleep (slept around 8:30AM got up at 12:30PM) and man, I feel AWFUL.
Hand me the eye cream bitch – I don’t want people to think I’m a heroin addict because of the dark circles under my eyes.
I started early yesterday; left my parents’ birdcage at around 7:30PM to meet P&A for dinner at L’Opera. I didn’t eat a lot at the restaurant cause I ate at home; I think P&A were trying to poison me with the pasta (though it TASTES very good) because I’m lactose intolerant-ish. They had this steak thing with foie gras – I’ll DEFINITELY have that when I go back. Who knows, maybe tomorrow? We’ll see.
Apres-dinner, P&Me quickly went to Nuvo, followed by Luce and hanged out with a lot of wonderful folks.
I had far too many drinks… far too many double gin tonics, vodka etc.
I think I may have to cut back on the booze.
The liquid running through my veins is probably 144 proof (70%), I swear to god, all you gotta do is rub cashmere against my skin (think of the static) and I’ll burst into flames in no time,
I’m gonna pamper myself today. Facial and all.
If you weren’t born with a pretty face, the next best thing to have is fantastic skin.
Sadly, I have neither.
Bryanboy Loves Alison
It’s about time I get some lovin’ lovin’ from girls.
My little narcissistic shrine of love is infested with adoration from gay males… I don’t want people to think this is the International Male catalog.
Meet Alison from St. Louis, Missouri, US of A!
Bryanboy Loves… and Random Cheesemax
#1 – Bryanboy loves people from Apple Valley, CA, Toronto, ONT, Canada, Las Vegas, NV, Honolulu, HI, Portland, OR, Irvine, CA, Lucky Park, Singapore, Frankel Estate, Singapore, Wooroloo, Western Australia, Malmo, Sweden and of course, people from Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Bryanboy loves y’all!
#2 – If you live in the land of the brown, l’exotique and the natives, be sure to grab a copy of this month’s JUST SHOP (Philippine Daily Inquirer’s monthly shopping supplement) and FUDGE magazine.
#3 – Living it Large, my self-asked, self-answered Q&A thing is now available online. Click here to read the article.
#4 – Shu Uemura and Motorola are throwing another party again next week. Can’t wait to see the new Shu limited edition cleansing oils.
#5 – I WANT A MOTOROLA PEBL phone!!!!!!!!!! It’s sooo gorgeous.
#6 – Nice little black Dior logo a gogo jacket… and it’s available in my size (well, I’m a size 36 on Dior trousers, size 38/40 on tops)…. it’s on SALE at US$795. I’m pondering whether to get it or not. I’ll give myself 24 hours. It’s black! It’s shiny! It’s….. LUREX!
#7 – Somebody from Helsinki Television visited my site. OI YOU FINNISH BITCHES, SAY HI TO ME LIVE ON TV (I know CNN greeted me at one point). Tell all those Finnish people that YOU LOVE BRYANBOY and BRYANBOY LOVES FINLAND.
#8 – This is my DREAM holiday. I’m REALLY serious about going to the North Pole. I mean, I’ve never really heard of anyone from the third world go up there. Fuck civilized countries… I want to go to a place where humanity is at bare minimum.
It’s a 2-week expedition. The cheapest is US$18,995 for a twin cabin (1 person). If I’m going alone, I may have to share this cabin with a smelly white geek person, probably a scientist or a senior citizen. There’s a mini-suite available, at US$21,995.
Expensivo, innit? It’s a journey of a lifetime!!!
Think of all the shopping you can do for that much money…
I’ll stick to shopping.
More updates later.
I love you all!
As always, you know where to contact me. Email firstname.lastname@example.org or SMS +63-915-785-1492.
Armpit Hair: The Root of All Things Evil
I don’t understand why millions upon millions of men, boys and guys worldwide blatantly show their armpits whenever they get their pictures taken.
I mean… WHY?
Why oh why oh why oh why?
Especially those with armpit hair.
Armpit hair is the root of all things evil. That’s why I shave (or sometimes, wax) mine.
Nothing disgusts me than that endless strands of hair on someone’s armpits… not to mention the musky, pungent smell that comes from good ol armpit hair.
It doesn’t matter whether you take showers twice daily, use antiperspirant, use deodorant etc.
Armpit hair is still awful and disgusting.
I don’t care if it brings warmth to your bodies in the middle of the winter.
It really is not funny cuddling up to someone only to end up with your face shoved on someone’s armpits and you don’t have a choice but to INVOLUNTARILY use their armpit hair as dental floss.
Armpit hair has to be abolished on the face of this planet.
Women… or men alike.
Even for a day.
On that profound note, I am proud to present The First Annual International Armpit Hair Shaving Day.
Mark your calendars boys and girls.
On December 1, 2005, wherever you are in the world, I want you to participate by shaving your armpits.
Shave all that excess auxilliary hair that you’ve got there since god knows when.
I know I’ll be travelling during that time but what I want you to do is to send pictures of your BALD armpits.
Let’s rewind the clocks, take a ride in the time machine and go back to our prepubescent years.
Send me pictures of you and your HAIRLESS armpits on December 1, 2005. Email email@example.com.
Best armpits will win an award.
HELP ME SPREAD THE WORD ABOUT THIS VERY IMPORTANT GLOBAL SHAVING EVENT. POST IT ON YOUR BLOGS, SPREAD IT TO THE MEDIA, FORWARD IT VIA TEXT/SMS/EMAILS TO EVERYONE YOU KNOW.
INCLUDING YOUR HAIRY GORILLA FATHER.
I love you all!
As always, you know where to contact me. Email firstname.lastname@example.org or SMS +63-915-785-1492.
Thai Airways. Smooth as Silk
[Disclaimer: get some red bull, some amphetamines, coffee or whatever you can grab to keep you awake because this post will most likely bore you to death. But frankly, I'm a happy camper.]
Who would have thought my Wednesday would be soooo productive?
I think a ton of people are still suffering from post-mortem syndrome.
Everything is starting to go back to normal; the country’s government and business sectors have been closed since Friday last week and today is the first day all the office workers, clerks, 9-5ers, the yucky yuppies brigade and their ilk, go back to work.
I got up at 5AM earlier this morning. I don’t care if I didn’t put make up on and I had a bad hair day – I was determined to file my visa application with Embassy #3.
Wore my Elie Tahari trousers tucked in my brown Frye boots, a Lacoste pique polo and a Zara cardigan. Brought my Birkin with me. It’s the only respectable bag that I have.
I originally plan on channeling my inner Madonna for Versace ad campaign but I ended up looking like a woman in her 40s. I don’t give a shit though. I was probably the best dressed person in the Embassy.
Can I just say how wonderful that embassy is? It was Thai Airways galore – everything was smooth as silk.
Sure I have to queue for about an hour and a half but when they opened their doors at 9AM sharp, I was out in no more than 20 minutes.
I handed the Filipino lady at the counter 2 sets of folders: one containing all my original documents – tax returns, bank books, financial statements, birth certificate, all my passports, bank statements, everything… and another containing my visa application, pictures, itineraries and photocopies of EVERYTHING in folder 1.
I told her I need to get my passports back AND folder #1 (originals) cause I’m also applying for a visa with Embassy #4. She told me there’s no problem.
I was totally surprised that the lady was nice. Seriously. She even SMILED! She even talked to me! It’s quite refreshing actually.
In other words, SHE WASN’T A ROBOT.
She quickly went through my documents (yep, all 8,491 KILOS worth of documents) and told me they’re all ok and she’ll accept them. She asked me as to when I got the passport photos (that I submitted) taken. I said March. She replied: we can only accept photos taken within the last 6 months, come back with new photos.
Other than that she told me to contact the hotel I’m staying at and ask them to fax the Embassy with a hotel confirmation.
I asked her whether or not I’ll be interviewed and she said there’s no need. It takes about 10 days for processing.
It was simple as that.
I was so excited and relieved that I minced my way out of the door thinking there’s still enough time to go to Embassy #2… soo excited I completely forgot to get my passports.
I ran back to the elevator and went straight to the counter again and told her I forgot to get my passports and my folders back.
She greeted me with a smile, told me she was just about to call but she’s glad I came and that’s about it.
As I’ve said earlier, I have two phrases: Thai Airways. Smooth As Silk.
I hope I get approved… otherwise I’ll commit suicide.
Diplomatic Faux Pas
I take back whatever I said on THIS post. I would like to express my sincerest apologies to Mrs. Isthatanold Dior for calling her a bitch.
I encounted her again today (who, btw, wore a vibrant floral ensemble) at Embassy #2. I was supposed to go there Tomorrow – they were going to open the Visa Section strictly for me because I whinged I’m busy on Wednesday.
But since I finished at Embassy #3 early, I thought I’d drop by at Embassy #2 to see what they can do for me.
THIS TIME HOWEVER, SHE GREETED ME WITH A SMILE!
I couldn’t help but wonder why all these consuls are suddenly smiling when they have reputations that they are colder than cold-blooded animals. It’s quite mind-boggling actually.
Have they really opened up to the fact that I’m NOT going to be one of these?
Anyway, I explained to her my case THOROUGHLY, gave her the bank receipts that I paid the expedited payment fee.
She told me it’s going to be VERY, VERY, VERY cold in December.
Then I told her it’s going to be MONEY WELL SPENT. I’m wearing my FUR!
She laughed (it requires more than a MIRACLE for a consul to do such thing).
Then she pointed on her calendar, did some calculations.
Visa Approved. I’ll pick it up early next week.
She gave me a double entry visa.
I’m a happy, happy young man!
More updates later.
Did you know November 1st of each and every year is a public holiday? That’s the case here in the heartlands of the third world.
It’s the time of the year where millions of Filipino people pay their respects to the dead kind. They flock cemeteries like rodents in the dark.
I went to the cemetery today with my dad, my sister and my brother to visit my grandmother (mom’s side) and my grandfather (dad’s side) and boy oh boy I had the ultimate "snap-snap" reality check today.
When I saw my grandfather’s grave, I realized, SHIT…
WE MUST BE SOOO FUCKING POOR.
It really is not funny to see one of your ancestors buried in a nasty plot when clearly there are others ON TOP OF THE FOOD CHAIN who have full-blown familial mausoleums.
The ones on those pictures aren’t even the top-of-the-line mausoleums. These are the cheap ones made out of stone (and not marble). It made me think: surely my clan must be REALLY poor not to be able to afford one of those mini dead person houses.
I told my dad I DONT WANT TO BE BURIED IN ONE OF THE NASTY REGULAR plots.
I asked him how many plots do we need to get in order to get a decent dead person house.
He made this funny "let me calculate" face and said that in my case, I’ll be needing 4 bathrooms, a kitchen, a living room, a salon, a maid’s area and a huge walk-in wardrobe to store all my material stuff.
In other words, he told me I don’t need a mausoleum. I need THIS:
After visiting my grandparents’ plots for a few minutes, we went back to the car and drove home.
On our way back, I had this dirty thought at the back of my head.
My dad had always taught me and my siblings to LOVE OUR OWN.
I do love my own… in my OWN little ways…
But in all seriousness
I found the answer why I don’t.
How can I love my own when my own looks like this?
I miss my grandparents. :(
The only thing that cheered me up was this random old woman at the cemetery with a Dior (probably a FAUX DIOR) bag.
Long live the new-moneyed ones (like me, you and others) with illusions of grandeur.
Happy all saints day!
I’m NOT Happy…
at the moment, that is.
Sorry for the lack of updates – I’ve got sooo many things going on in my life.
I’ve NEVER been this stressed. EVER!
At least my skin’s good this week. NO breakouts whatsoever.
Blame it on the facial that I recently had. Har har.
I’ll give you drama.
1. My baby bitch (literally), Daria, is really sick. In fact, she’s been sick for the past 3 days. The vet said she’s got kidney and liver problems, according to her recent blood test. She hasn’t peed since yesterday (Wednesday) – I know my pooch, she’s the crown princess of all things related to urine but for some strange reason, she hasn’t peed at ALL recently. My maid brought her to the vet (again) as I’m writing this for another check-up cause her stomach is REALLY bloated. Poor Daria. hope she gets well soon. Thinking about her makes me want to cry – she brings so much life in this household!
2. Xerox is my best friend these days. You won’t believe the amount of time I’ve spent hanging out with the trusty old xerox machine – the paper cuts on my fingers are prima facie evidence that all I’ve been doing the past few days is handling paperwork.
The embassies do want everything. Income tax returns, business registration documents, bank statements (HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO PRODUCE BANK STATEMENTS WHEN 2 OF MY "DAY-TO-DAY" BANK ACCOUNTS… WELL, BANKS, DON’T EVEN SEND PRINTED STATEMENTS CAUSE I JUST VIEW MY TRANSACTIONS ONLINE??????? THANK GOD I HAVE THE ODD, PASSBOOK-BASED SAVINGS ACCOUNT HERE AND THERE AND I’LL JUST USE THAT INSTEAD), credit card statements, photocopies of all my passports’ stamps and visas, etc etc etc. I even asked my driver to fucking go to the National Statistics Office to get a CERTIFIED copy of my birth certificate printed on some fancy schmancy paper. I simply don’t get it – isn’t my passport and my gorgeous self enough to validate my existence?
Obviously not cause I’m a MODEL CITIZEN of the THIRD WORLD.
You gotta love bureaucracy and red tape baby.
3. I have 19 days before I leave good ol’ Manille for my winter escapade and I’ve only sorted out 1 visa so far. I need to get 3 more tourist visas to my destinations and I only have about 2 weeks LEFT!!!!!! God knows if I get my visas in time. I may have to do some begging (so they’ll process my visa applications FAST) at the embassy.
I doubt they’ll do it though. I’m Mrs. John L. Nobody.
OHHHHH I FUCKING hate it.
The worst position next to "doggie style" is that one of being at the mercy of others.
Will my fabulous looks (yuck – go on then – make faces) and fantastic charm work with my visa interview officers/consul people so that I can fulfill my fall/winter 2005 escapade and return before Christmas?
Ugh! Just tell me I don’t look like this guy/these people. (BTW, I got this pic as it is FROM google. search for "illegal immigrant". No offense to people of the coloured kind. Hello – I’m a certified gook! I know what it’s like to be on BROWN ENTERTAINMENT TELEVISION)
These ones are courtesy of the BBC.
Where’s the fun in that?
The best part of travelling is going BACK HOME and all the PRETENTIOUS BRAGGING RIGHTS that come along with it. Let’s face it, anyone who fucking travels changes as soon as they get back.
"Oh darling, I went to so-and-so place, you have to go there!"
"OOOOOOOO The shopping is fantastic!"
"The food is to die for, you should go to so and so restaurant!"
"You have to see X, Y, Z"
Blah blah bullshit.
I love it though.
I’m guilty as charged.
I like to give myself a period of post-vacation bragging fun of about 2 weeks. Brag and blab to everyone I know – within a 2 week timeframe. Any bragging beyond those 2 weeks is pointless.
Funny I said that – I know of several people who keeps going on and on about where they went… even if the fact that the last time they went there was more than a DECADE ago.
Anyway, I’ll keep it "hush-hush" for now as to where I’m going.
I know I’m not supposed to buy plane tickets UNLESS the visas are approved but I’m an impatient mother fucker. I bought all my plane tickets, from one destination to the next, booked my hotels, etc. It will definitely help me budget. I know most fares go up at the last minute – it’s always better to book in advance. Besides, I *NEVER* fly economy. All my flights are on business and they’re fully changeable, refundable, etc. My losses, in the event I get denied, are gonna be miniscule.
Nevertheless, I’ll try my luck.
I mean, if I was meant to be denied, then I’ll be denied. If I was meant to be approved, then I’ll be approved. The world is such a huge place anyway. If I wasn’t meant to go to the places I want to go before Christmas, there’s always the mall.
I’ll update later. Promise.
(Afterall, it’s my blog’s 1 year ANNIVERSARY today.)
I love you all. Email email@example.com or SMS +63-915-785-1492.
Today’s a good day. The sun is up, the sky is blue and I’m wearing some jeans, a Dior Homme t-shirt and an Hermes scarf as a belt.
It’s so good that it only took me 18 minutes to travel from my house to a place where it usually takes 45 minutes to go to.
(god I look like a cadaver on this photo. my skin is awful!!!)
And then you’ve got all these public rallies and politics-related protesters going on around the nation’s capital.
Thank god they’re far from where I’m at.
Thinking about politics gives me a headache.
I don’t even want to talk about it.
I won’t deny the fact that I’m a horrible citizen.
I really could care less about politicians.
In fact, I haven’t even voted. I’m 23 years old and I’ve never voted.
The only time I’ll vote is when I’m running for a position – I’ll vote for myself.
I’ll leave that ‘vote’ job to 80 million other Filipinos.
I already have my own personal drama to deal with let alone deal with others.
YES, I LOVE BEING SELFISH SO SCREW YOU.
Rally or not, I have a lot of things on my plate that I gotta finish.
I’ve decided to rent, for an entire year, some mini office space at one of the prime buildings in Makati, the Enterprise Tower. For those of you out there living outside the land of the brown, the l’exotique and the natives, Makati is Manila’s premier financial and shopping district.
I’m meeting a gal there in a bit so I can sign the contracts and pay for the entire term. It’s a really small office; in fact, it’s one of those "serviced" office things – I get like a teeny, tiny room where I get my own desk, workstation, chairs, etc. I have to start somewhere.
This is quite momentous for me because I’ve been working out of my home for the past god knows how many years.
Who knows, perhaps one day I’ll have an ENORMOUS office with tons of beautiful people as my worker bees and then I’ll have an office fling etc. that sort of thing. Hahahahaha!
I have always wanted to know what it feels like to be sued for sexual harassment.
What I meant was
I have always wanted to know what it feels like to be sexually harassed.
(I know it’s not a laughing matter because some of you have experienced such thing but really, a pervert like me would be more than happy to pay someone just to rape moi. Sadly, a rapist won’t even rape me even if it was for a million dollars.)
I’ll update you guys later. I’ll take some photos, go shopping and see what happens.
I love you all.
As always, you know where to contact me. Email firstname.lastname@example.org or SMS +63-91-7851492.
Out with the Old, In with the New
Before I continue with my usual inane ramblings, I thought I’d say bye bye Miss American Pie to my crusty 2-year old desktop computer. The thing gathered dust a couple of days ago but it was only until today that I got found out that the thing can no longer be resurrected. All my files, all 100+ gigabytes of it, my precious and priceless Outlook emails, several thousand songs, my collection of imagery (no, there’s nothing incriminating there) and my life are inside the 2 hard drives. Both drives didn’t have backup so I’m permanently screwed.
I thought I was protected because I’ve set my Norton anti-virus to autoupdate but for some strange reason, both hard drives fucked up on me.
Even my 17-inch Sony Vaio (the one I got back in March or April for like US$3-4,000) can’t be fixed. I spilled a drink on the keyboard and the damn motherboard (or whatever term a techie calls a laptop’s guts) corroded.
I went to the mall today and bought a new laptop. It’s an HP Pavilion. It’s quite alright; it cost my pocket friggin US$2,000… it better be ALRIGHT.
You know what’s strange though?
My entire life can be found on both computers that died on me so I should be crying my heart out.
But I’m not crying.
In fact, I have no tears whatsoever.
I have NO idea why.
I really have no idea why.
I think it’s a sign.
A sign that says "out with the old, in with the new".
Perhaps this new laptop acts as if it is a small token confirming that I have a NEW life.
Ugh. I don’t know what to think anymore.
aka "New Russians" or новые русские (in Cyrillic)
Fall is in full swing and winter is fast approaching.
It won’t be long until people in the northern hemisphere bring out their luscious coats made out of the most fabulous tweeds, the most exotic furs, the warmest wools, the chic cashmeres and of course, puffy, faux-down-filled puffy bomber-style jackets worn by the unfortunate poor ones.
I’m doing my 2nd winter pilgrimage to the land of the the matrioshkas.
You see, I always get that dreaded "Why Russia?" every time I talk about Russia.
No, it’s definitely not about the caviar… even if I eat the finest beluga, sevruga and osetra thrice a day until my poop looks like miniature hershey’s kisses (aka goat poop).
No, it’s definitely not about the vodka… even if I drink vodka all day long.
No, it’s definitely not the gorgeous, tall, skinny, runway model lookey-likey girls.
No, it’s most definitely not the hunt for gorgeous, fit, toned boys aka my own personal Olympic gymnast/swimmer/sports person.
No, it’s definitely not the cold weather.
No, it’s definitely not the ostentatious display of wealth by the New Russians
So why Russia?
No amount of Russian Tourist Board propaganda (I don’t think there’s one) can convince me to go to the land of the czars and the communists other than these 2 pictures can.
Now THAT is something.
Come visit Russia, land of vodka, caviar and um, um, um…
I’m at a loss of words on this one.
A couple of friends and moi have been toying around the idea of buying one of those gorgeous Vertu phones.
I don’t care what y’all say – you can all burn in gold digging hell but one day, oh yes, on day, once I’ve found that good-looking special someone who will spoil me rotten till fruit flies feast on my internal organs, I’ll have him buy me an US$18,750.00 Vertu Yellow Gold mobile phone.
Unfortunately, I’m not flash-cashed enough to warrant such ostentatious appreciation for something a mere Nokia can do. I lose a handful of phones year after year after year and I simply cannot afford losing US$18,750 Vertu phones like candy. Afterall, I’d rather buy precious haute couture for the price of 4 Vertu Phones.
1) Trusty old (it’s so trusty that it’s already crusty) Nokia 6680
2) Fendi mirrored squirrel charm
3) Dior cellphone charm
4) Dior charm
5) Bottega Veneta crocodile leather charm (elephant)
Why settle for 1 charm when you can go all out? I don’t care if my phone weighs like a fuckin brick, it’s all about what’s hanging on there. I’m gonna buy more and more charms and keychains for the electronic device that has gotten me into all sorts of drunk dialling misdemeanor and social trouble for far too many times.
I need to buy 2 new phones, probably either the same model.. or a Moto Razr V3 in black. The Nokia 8800 looks tempting too but it’s too expensivo for a phone.
Bah! I’m always like this; I’m such a penny-pinching, cheap-ass bitch when it comes to spending on all other material items but I guiltlessly throw money away when it comes to designer handbags and clothes.
This post is sponsored by:
Hair Heaven and Hell
I went to the salon today, in spite of feeling very sick. I procrastinated long enough already. Looks like my bronchitis is back. I have the worst cough ever, the crappiest colds, a sore throat and slight fever. Let’s leave my health out of the question now. Save it for tomorrow when I go to the doctor.
I really don’t know whether or not my new hair style/colour is a disaster. All of the comments I received so far (especially the ones coming from my familia de horreur) are good.
As far as I’m concerned, I have always loved my locks my
African-American, African, Euro-Carribean, Carribean, etc. counterparts
woud be proud of – black, black and black.
You see, I don’t care about those who get their locks dyed like a dead hairy animal that Saga Furs would be proud of.
If people want to colour their hair a ridiculous shade of bubble gum pink or a fabulous shade of brown, let them be.
I think this post calls for a Bryanboy Life Archives Moment… haha!
Back to the past we go…
I lost my hair’s virginity to peroxide back when I was 15 or 16. The culprit: one of those cheap, tacky, blonde-in-a-bottle stuff. God knows where I found the courage, the balls and the guts to do it back then.
At that time, everyone must have thought of me as a freak. Even my ex-bf thought I was a freak.
We used to go into one of those fun photo booths that spit out a postcard with what your children will look like based on both of your facial features. They’re called "LoveLove Simulation". 2 people go in, the machine takes a photo, then you wait for like 30 seconds before it prints out funny cards that look like these.
According to the machine, if procreation was possible, our offpspring would look like these:
BTW, I covered my face and that of my ex. Trust me, we both look extremely hideous at that time.
As if I don’t look hideous these days.
Point is, the fact that I had faux blonde hair at one point of my entire life is sufficient enough to give me goosebumps the size of Canada.
That blonde moment is still giving me nightmares right until this day.
If you regret living the 80s, then I regret living 1998.
Life Archives Over.
Now… 7 years later, my hair looks like this.
My stylist at Franck Provost used some shade of brown as base and then a lighter shade for highlights.
It’s really hard to describe what my hair looks like NOW. You have got to see it in person before you make the judgment. The camera flash was prolly too bright, making my hair look awful.
When I look in the mirror, the colour isn’t that noticeable. My hair is still dark… very dark… oh yes… it’s just that there’s a slight difference.
Personally, I think it’s nice… well, nicer than my usual jet black (+ white strands here and there) locks. Even my familia de horreur thinks it’s nice. They thought it’s refreshing.
I dunno. *sigh*
I still have doubts at the back of my head though.
We’ll see how my friends will react when I go out over the weekend.
When I get better that is.
I’m sure I will.
Bryanboy Loves… and Random Cheesemax
#1 – Bryanboy loves people from Edgware, England UK, Stavanger, Norway, Miami, Florida (especially to the one who sent me an SMS/Text message earlier), Calgary, Alberta, Chicago, IL, Windsor Park Estate, Singapore, Nedlands, Western Australia, Tempe, NSW in Australia, Boca Raton, FL and finally, people from Studio City, CA! Bryanboy loves y’all bitches! Identify yourselves and tell me you love me.
#2 – Bryanboy loves Cosmo Magazine! Buy Cosmo Magazine’s (Philippines) October 2005 issue. I’m totally honored, honored, honored to be there. Buy this month’s issue now! I’m scanning the entire page once our maid wakes up and put it on my press archive. My scanner/printer isn’t plugged to the extension cord therefore I can’t turn it on and I have a phobia on plugging all things electrical. I took a picture using my camera though.
#3 – Bryanboy loves The Pepper Mill (by Pepper Teehankee) at the Philippine Star. I know my picture looks awful on the monitor cause I didn’t scan the thing but yeah, I think that picture is one of the best pictures I have – on print. I should try to practice that pose often. I shall name it the "little-miss-innocent-princes-takes-a-peek" look. Hahahaha!
#4 – The gold bracelet that I wore today is from Louis Vuitton. I bought it after seeing it at V Magazine (issue 37 – Fall 2005). It’s sooo ghetto fabulous. Wear it with a Birkin bag and it’s very Eurotrash! I love it. There’s a necklace version of it but I don’t think I want to get it.
#5 – I’m being talked about on this forum, Authentic Louis Vuitton Addicts.
Unfortunately, the powers that may be requires all sorts of private
information, including your first born child’s social security number,
date of birth, blood type and DNA/Paternity Test results because you
can’t figure out who the father of the chid was.
It’s fuckin 1:48AM now… I’ll update later. I got up at friggin 3:00PM yesterday because of this damn respiratory-related disease (bronchitis, cough, colds) that I have. Ughhh why can’t my health fuckin deteriorate at a different time. Trust me sweetheart, no more Dunhill Lights for me.
Believe it or not I haven’t had a cigarette since Wednesday around 4AM!!!!
You know where to contact me… email@example.com or +63-915-785-1492.
(as always. say it with me now… Bah-boosh! No, not Ba-bush like George Bush, but, Baboosh as in Baboosh-ka!)
P.S. This one’s courtesy of MadeinBrazil.Typepad.com and for all the girls and faggots out there.
Meet Mateus Verdelho.
Click here for pics… and even more pics.
Do you think he can make you cream your panties?
Y’all tell me when you want to go to Brazil and I’m buying first class plane tickets for myself pronto.
Oh No Not Again!
Look what arrived via courier today.
My address isn’t even on the envelope. Just my name.
Must be "hand-delivered".
I will NOT get stressed by this.
I will SERIOUSLY NOT get stressed by this.
I have to pack for tomorrow’s shoot, I have to be beautiful, I have to starve myself by hook or by crook over the next 24 hours.