Bryanboy's Exercise Videos
God damn I hate YouTube! The Clackers would've been soo proud of me for all the clickity clackity click clack noise I did but god damn YouTube's "quick capture" feature fucked my exercise videos up. If you watch my exercise videos below, they stop for a few seconds (the music is still there) before playing/stopping again. Ugh!
Verbal Diarrhea Monday: Aging, Appearances and Personal Trainers
I know this may come as a surprise to you my dear readers but I discovered something just a few minutes ago. Something that REALLY makes sense. It wasn't really a discovery but more of a wake-up call self-realization. All these years of constant bickering and endless whingeing and whining how I'm festively plump I am...whatevs.
Note to self: never get internet friends to chop your face on Hilary Rhoda's body EVER again.
Click click click!
Continue reading "Verbal Diarrhea Monday: Aging, Appearances and Personal Trainers" »
2468 Diet: We want this NOW!
Que horror! Tonight, my friends, I realized I’ve hit rock-bottom... a record low high.
[BTW, BEFORE WE CONTINUE ANY FURTHER I'VE BEEN RECEIVING REPORTS THAT MY PAGE IS FUCKED UP/OUT OF ALIGNMENT WHATEVER. IS IT TRUE??? GIVE ME A SHOUT OUT IF YOU'RE HAVING TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES, MMMKAY????]
Aiming for Anorexia:
The Official Bryanboy "DYING TO BE THIN" Diet
There was a time when I felt like I cared that I was shorter than everyone there. People made me feel like life was unfair and I did things that made me ashamed... cos I didn't know my body would change.
I grew taller than them in more ways but there will always be the one who will say something bad to make them feel great.
People are all the same and we only get judged by what we do... personality reflects name and if I'm ugly then so are you. So are you.
-- Sugababes: "Ugly"
I really have had it. I got up earlier this afternoon with another nightmare... two nightmares, in fact. One of them involves Adderall, an amphetamine-based prescription drug prescribed for pre-school kids with Attention Deficit Disorder followed by another one with Roman designer Valentino Garavani (whose face hasn't changed a single bit for decades) and Hollywood actress Nicole Kidman.
Can I just say I'm turning into a complete nutcase? Someone please stop it. Stop it already. These weird dreams are driving me insane.
"There is something distasteful about their inability to control themselves. To be thin takes control and rigour." -- Karl Lagerfeld on fat people
I slept at around 10AM on Tuesday morning after pulling an all-nighter online only to wake up at 2 in the afternoon with another awful nightmare. I caught one of my fat younger sisters staring at the mirror then she gave me this orange bottle of pills that said "Adderall". She told me "I thought you could do with some of these." I could barely remember what happened next but the name of the drug etched a permanent mark in my head. I honestly haven't heard of this drug before. Ever.
Err wait. Yes, I have. Once.
A little over 5 months ago, I went to this island here in the Philippines. One of my acquaintance's friend who flew in from the USA had a bottle of Adderall with him. I remember him offering me a pill and I should try it out. He said it's prescribed for children with ADD (attention deficit disorder). I have this pill phobia so I refused his offer. That was the first AND last time I heard of the drug. In fact, I completely forgotten about it. Until today.
I googled "adderall" as soon as I got up and found out the drug is indeed prescribed for kids with attention deficit disorder. Apparently it's got amphetamines, the same shit they mix on cocaine, speed, ecstasy (in conjunction with MDMA) or crystal meth, the drug of choice of barebacking, bug-chasing faggots into "party and play" orgies in cities like San Francisco or New York.
My god look at me. Your local alcohol and substance abuse education center would be so proud of me for being updated when it comes to drug culture. It's amazing what you find on the internet these days, eh?
Anyway, I'm trying figure out why I even had that dream. Is it because of the fact that I'm a big attention whore...
... or is it the subconcious thought of popping amphetamine-based pills will make me skinny is a sign that I am indeed too fat?
A friend suggested via MSN Messenger that i change my eating habits. We even made a pact to NEVER mention fast food again in our conversations and no solid food exceeding 10 grams. Ok, the latter is hard, I know. I even flushed whatever it is that is left on my coca cola bottle (I wanted to say 'coke' but it's sooo druggie) down the toilet.
He then mentioned the thought of me going into a watermelon diet... and tons of ice cold water.
Why haven't I thought of that BEFORE?
I paid a visit to the supermarket to pick up some fruit.. heck, a LOT of fruit. I bought 4 enormous watermelons, the ones Katie Holmes-Cruise used underneath her oversized tops before giving birth to the alien named "Suri".
I also bought a dozen apples, some seedless red grapes (my mom lashed out on me cause she's so anti seedless grapes... as if she's the one eating them anyway) and a couple of bananas.
Oh my god, speaking of fruits, those photos are so Dolce & Gabbana Spring 2000. Remember the fruit market show?
When someone emails you this, it means it's TIME to clean up your act and get rid of the fat fact!
Anyway, so I came up with a new diet plan. At least for the next 2-3 weeks. Maybe a month. Who knows.
There's hope, everyone! I printed a copy of this photo. Afterall, I need some sort of thinspiration. Shit, even my tummy looked soooo big back then.
I'll give my diet plan a shot. If it works, I'll write a book about it. My new diet plan could be the next New York Times Bestseller.
PEOPLE OF THE WORLD, TURN YOUR BACKS AGAINST FAT!
I popped by the gas station to pick up something to quench my thirst (ugh.. this will be my LAST diet coke ever) before going to my dermatologist's clinic for my facial. I'm soo stupid. I went to the supermarket and I totally forgot to buy a drink!!!
Sunglasses by Dior, striped top by Dolce & Gabbana, Hermès scarf worn as a belt, jeans from Citizens of Humanity, sneakers from Kenzo, bag from Goyard.
Today's Obligatory Paparazzi Shot
I'd pick this one because it seems so real...
compared to this one.
You know, after writing this blog post, I barely remember what happened in my other dream about Valentino and Nicole Kidman. I know the three of us went aboard Valentino's yacht. Some Italian guy snatched my passport away from me, Valentino called the Italian Prime Minister and Nicole consoled me by giving me a drink.
I think I tried to force-feed Nicole the same way foie gras farms force-feed ducks (I love foie gras!). Nicole cried and Valentino told Nicole that she should eat. I said something like "you know Nicole, you should try things at least once." then Valentino snapped at me telling me "you know, you should try to things at least once" and pointed at my bloated tummy.
I can't remember what else had happened. *sigh*
Faggotry in Motion #004
Here's another video for you guys. Enjoy!
Click here for some of my other FAGGOTRY IN MOTION videos.
I think that's all for now.
OMG, I love Paula Abdul's (or her personal assistant's) Goyard... look at that skull!. Photo courtesy of TheFashionSpot. I'm totally digging her personal bag carrier's look. Paula Abdul on the other hand looks scary. It's time for me to buy a new Goyard...
I think that's all for now. God I really look so fucked up these days I need to get my act together. Seriously. I'm getting uglier and uglier as I get older. Dontcha hate ageing?
I'm going shopping!
I love you all. Email bryan@bryanboy.com or SMS +63.915.785.1492.
(BTW CARBON COPY MY bryanboy@gmail.com EMAIL ACCOUNT CAUSE MY DAMN SERVER FUCKS UP ON ME SOMETIMES)
PS. Discuss this blog post here.
PPSS. Be sure to visit my site tomorrow cause boy I have a BIG surprise for you, courtesy of the lovely folks at Shu Uemura. Stay tuned.
I got a couple of emails from y'all about that picture of me with really thin arms. Yeah, I noticed that too. I actually kinda like it. Now I know which angle to use to achieve that skeletal arms effect. Hahahaha! *kidding*. Nah, I thought that was really skinny looking.
I don't think I'm *that* skinny. I mean, yes, I am skinny, fine, there's no need to propel anorexia by saying "I'm fat", but personally, I think my body is normal and healthy for any 5'9/5'10, 23 year old boy. I mean, I weighed myself earlier today and I'm like (shock-horror) 124 lbs. I'm 14 pounds overweight. I've got man tits and love handles for god's sake. I think those 2 are the 14 pounds I needed to shed. Oh and my bingo wings, too.
Warning: you are about to see me reeking of
masculinity and testosterone. I recommend that
you scroll down as fast as you can or get those
vomit bags ready.
Hilarious, isn't it? I've never done sleaze before and I thought this is funny.
Sucky sucky 5 dolla, me love you long time 10
dolla, you pay 20 dolla I gib free roast duck!
Eeeeeew. God I look like a fucking $5 prostitute on those photos.
Do I officially look like a boy now?
Awful eh? Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!
Remind me not to do porn.
Nobody will ever buy porn with me on it.
It will be a major flop. I think I'm better off being the little vain fairy that I am with the side job as a fluffer - I'm good behind the scenes. I give very good blowjobs, afterall.
Next!
I confess -- I've been chit chatting to sexually-confused, underaged, jail magnets these days. God I'm such a pedophile.
Meet Mr. Leon Grant Bussinger of www.grantb88.com.
Grant is a 17 year old hardcore republican proud WASP from the swamps of Tampa, Florida. You should've seen his reaction and his balls when I told him he looked Jewish and how can he be a WASP when both of his names are blacker than Naomi Campbell, Iman, Michael Jordan, Lil Kim.
He's such a darling. We talked on the phone sometime last week for 3 whole hours with him saying "Oh my god" for at least 300 times per hour.
He also claims he's straight however, my ever reliable gaydar says he's lying. I mean, come on, what kind of straight 17 year old reads GQ, wants to study acting in Julliard (sp?), currently a waiter at Shake and Bake (knock-knock-cliche, we all know about waiters who want to be actors but end up being drug addicts and prostitutes), wants Prada, knows ton about fashion, hangs out with a ton of girls (fag hags), whines, whinges and complains about everything in the world whenever the opportunity arrives?
EVERYBODY TELL HIM HE'S IN DENIAL. D-E-N-I-A-L DENIAL!
THE WALK IN WARDROBE IS SO MUCH
BETTER THAN THE FUCKING CLOSET!
TALK ABOUT SUFFOCATION. YA NEED
SPACE FOR YER HANDBAGS SWEETHEART
Remember: teenage angst is your one-way
ticket to enchanted fagdom!
Anyway, I'll leave it up to you to decide whether or not Grant is a breeder or a fag. I say FAG!
Regardless of his sexuality, I think he's a really nice guy and I'm glad that we talked. If only he's legal... and if only miscegenation is acceptable, I wouldn't mind him being the father of my first child.
Think about it: mixed raced babies are the Chanel of babies. And there's no other baby that I want coming from that of a **GAY** republican. Ok, maybe not Ed Schrock's. EEEW. Nasty eh?
I love you all!
P.S. www.bryanboy.com is now live!
Let's face it. There are only 2 types of places in this planet where a 400-pound man such as myself can turn into a beautiful, skinny, willowy swan. Either at your local liposuction clinic or the gym.
(ok, make that 3 places, cause you can snort cocaine in clubs and then dance the night away to burn calories. let's forget drug abuse though. drugs are so... what's a nice word... dark ages ago)
I once went to the gym for about 8 months, starting from January 2003. The one nearest my house was Fitness First - it was literally a 3 minute drive. Could be less, depending on how pomped up my driver was at the time.
I was one of the early birds. You'll never see me at the gym after 11AM. For several months, I religiously went there from 6:00AM until 10:00AM. I abused all the cardio stuff I could possibly do -- 30 minutes on the treadmill, a couple of minutes on the ellipticals, glides, blah blah, and a few minutes doing resistance.
I *never* did the weights because of personal insecurities and issues against the hordes of muscle maries lifting 50-pound weights. Why, why oh why oh why oh why should I, who, at that time, was 5-foot-9 weighing 100 pounds, subject myself to lifting weights, surrounded by steroid-injecting, drug-abusing, metabolism-obsessed, sweaty, bulging, muscular shitholes?
Deep down inside I have this nagging feeling that I'm gonna be the subject of ridicule and laughter for trying to lift a 5-pound dumb (yes) bell. So yes, I avoided the weights altogether.
I did go there one time and yes, a muscle mary bitch was even friendly to me and taught me how to do it right.
But no. I just don't wanna go there.
In any case, I have to admit I enjoyed going to the gym. I had a little crush thing there who was quite alright. Every bloody day he was there, spent most of the time doing eye contact. It took us around 5 god damn months just to actually say hi to each other and in the end, I didn't quite like him because he is a student. Icky eh?
Everything was fun up until the day where this
vicious, old-aged, vintage, fat, wrinkly just-
fucking-die-cause-the-world-and-your-coffin-is-
waiting grandmother-type chit chatted to my mom
on the elliptical.
The VO-AVFWJG had the fucking nerve to ask my mother "who is that faggot talking on his mobile phone on the treadmill? He's been there for 30 minutes now and doesn't he know mobile calls are expensive?"
To my mom's amusement, she said "I don't know".
Later that day, my mom told me about it and I asked her point blank why the hell she didn't say anything about me being the result of her first fuck 18 (+4) years ago. She said she didn't want to ruin the VO-AVFWJG's moment.
Since then, I've never set foot to the gym because of embarassment. I enjoyed talking to my friends while I'm on the damn treadmill. Every day, I speed dial my friends and gossip. It was the only time for me to catch up with my friends from all corners of the planet. Early morning here, early evening in the US/late evening in Europe. Multi-task silvous plait. Burn calories and gossip at the same time -- while being sober.
Fast forward 2 years later...
Earlier this morning when I got up, I noticed my love handles are getting bigger. Not that it's new or anything. But this time, they're really inflated. Somehow overnight, I got pregnant, gave birth and now I've got post-pregnancy fat.
One of my clients said he bought an elliptical trainer last week and he's been enjoying it. Like myself, he works at home and going to the gym can be a pain sometimes. He does run every now and then -- you know, run like running on the streets, something I could never, ever, ever be caught dead doing in public. He also said something about working out, blah blah bullshit.
I got inspired and thought, well, since I don't want to go the gym, why not have my own mini-gym.
My mom mentioned she wants to buy a treadmill so we can all run while watching TV/doing rounds of phone gossip but she backed out because my dad said we'd eventually get sick of it... and they already go to the gym anyway.
Whatever. They need to sort out their issues. I've got my own.
I came across this website called FitnessQuest.com and ordered 2 things -- the Total Gym 1700 Club and the Ab Lounge Ultimate.
I know they're just basic home devices whatever and nothing as sophisticated as real gym equipment but I'm worried about space etc. I got them at a bargain too, roughly around $540 for both. I'm having it sent to my office in the US who will then FedEx it to me. I'd say about 3 weeks and I've got my own mini gym. Till then, all I can do is sit here and get myself as pregnant as possible.
Personally I have doubts with these "get-nice-abs-at-home" equipment but I thought I'd give it a try. I've never really met (or heard of) anyone who have used home equipment and gotten good results. Everyone got theirs at the gym.
God, I don't even want a 6-pack. That's just too... disgusting. So so outré. I want a flat, painfully small waist and long, skinny arms to match. Heck, all I want is a body of a skinny, pre-pubescent 11 year old boy. I want to be a pedophile magnet -- at 22. Chicken at its finest. Looks can sometimes kill and if I had a body such as the one I just mentioned, all these dirty pedophile scumbags will die. Nya nyi nya nyi nya nya you can look but ya can't have what you see you dirty old fart.
Enough fitness talk. I need a burger. A big, fat, juicy one.
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Shower me with attention and inflate my ego. Email photos of your love and I'll add you to my ever-growing collection. Be creative! Be spontaneous! Send them to bryan@bryanboy.com today! |
