Bryanboy Loves… and Random Cheesemax
#1 – Bryanboy loves people from Parla, Madrid Spain, Englewood Cliffs, NJ, Rixensart, Brabant Belgium, Cardiff, UK, Petaling Jaya, Malaysia, Vanda, Finland, Eschborn, Hessen Germany, Bangkok, Thailand, Cape Town, South Africa, Bischwiller, Alsace France, Beveren, Belgium, Hemiksen, Antwerpen Belgium (Jesus, a ton of Belgian readers eh?), Valla, Sweden and of course, all my loverboys and fag hags in Vienna, Austria. I love each and every one of you. Say hi, don’t be shy!
#2 – Oh dear. I seriously wish I knew what (or should I say WHERE) I gotten myself into. You see, a little over a year ago, not too many people in this country knew who I was. Errr, ok, I’m not insinuating that a lot of people know me now, but compared to last year, the people who know my name these days got multiplied by several hundred, if not thousands… perhaps tens of thousands. People from all sorts of backgrounds – rich, poor, middle class, pretending to be rich (like me), pretending to be poor (also like me), whatever.
I’ll never forget those times when I’d go to clubs and parties and many, many people would introduce me to many, many people and I’d say "hi", go all shy and make a complete fool of myself. (BTW, I still haven’t learned… I STILL make a fool out of myself.). I’d be FILTHY FUCKING rich if I got a dollar every time someone said "I’ve heard sooo much about you" or "I’ve heard about your blog". Heck, a lot of people even introduced themselves to me. It’s all fun and good and I have absolutely no regrets because I get to meet people… something I’ve NEVER done before… and to think, I NEVER talk to anyone UNLESS they approach me. I’m not the type of person who would introduce myself to anyone. I just can’t.
There were sooo many names. Names, names, names, names, names. People, who, at that time, I had no clue as to who they are. I was sooo stupid and clueless. I’ve got no one else to blame back then for being clueless because I don’t read newspapers or magazines. For instance, there was a time when I asked someone (who was just introduced to me) why people are approaching her left and right, every 5 seconds. She’d pull me in one quiet corner and we’d talk for HOURS so people won’t disturb our lovely conversation.
Oh I don’t know anymore. When you somehow made a name for yourself (in spite of how people perceive you) and when your goal is to create a new world order through faggotry (hahaha), I guess it’s inevitable for people to talk about you. It’s one of those things that come with the package and the price you pay for being known by a lot of people.
(I didn’t wanna use "well-known" or "famous" because I like to pretend I’m humble. Humility is next to cleanliness and cleanliness is next to godliness. HAHA!)
I guess one could only take so much crap. I got fed up a couple of days ago on some internet forum so I asked why some of them can’t stop talking shit about me. I told them that I’m a nobody; I’m no actor, celebrity or socialite and I certainly don’t deserve their trash and fallacies. Their attention is better directed towards someone else, someone even more high-profile than me.
And then out of nowhere, there’s someone out there using me to wipe the floor of the house that I don’t even belong. I really don’t understand what they get out of it.
I have to admit I had a good laugh when I saw that website.
Ok, I lied.
I initially cringed in shock and horror, shed some tears and called a few friends at first and then I realized should just take it lightly. Afterall, FAMOUS and FABULOUS people get talked (and trash talked) all the time. I’m just disappointed that it’s now getting REALLY personal.
These people obviously have far too much spare time in their hands. I suggest that they fine-tooth comb my website. I doubt they read my plea 3 months ago on how I wanted to be adopted by someone with ill-gotten wealth.
Hmm.. I gave it some thought and how I *SERIOUSLY* wish I was a son of a corrupt army general.
Imagine me hitting the third world high streets in my own Maybach or Bentley with 3 bodyguards in tow, all paid for by Filipino taxpayers. I’d have a super fine, kick-ass degree at a top NY school under my belt and I wouldn’t be sooo ashamed on how "modest" my grandfather’s grave is.
Shit, if these people only knew how much angst I’ve got against my boring brown clan because we don’t have a maosoleum!!!!!!!
Anyway, a few people told me to just ignore it because the more I show my vulnerable side, the more likely they’ll provoke and attack. It’s sooo hard to ignore it though because I’m new to this level of viciousness. It’s one thing to be trash-talked by 2 or 3 people and it’s another thing to be trashed in a larger scale.
I guess all I have to do at this point is learn how to deal with it with a white glove and (pretend or try to) show everyone I’m above such crap.
It’s hard but I know I’ll manage.
Please tell me I’m good at trying to get sympathy. I’ve always wanted to play the po’ little rich boy drama act except I’m not rich. I want to see whether it will work for me because I know it worked for other rich people HAHAHAHAHA!!! I’m kidding.
#3 – You guys certainly know how to make a fag happy. It really is comforting to know that there’s people out there who read my gospel, wherever they are in the world. Norway, California, Florida, Philippines and Singapore.
#4 – Oh my good lord. Lookie lookie at what I got via email!!!!!! There you have it. Your love has definitely reached record-breaking levels. This is too much!!! HAHAHAHAHAHA! Nothing can beat a big brown ass from hell!!!! I LOVE IT!!!!!
#5 – I STILL CAN’T GET OVER THE FACT THAT FENDI DID MY POSE!! HAHAHAHA!
#6 – Random Cheesemax on the net…
- click here | No, there’s no way Paris and I can be a couple. That would be like incest.
- click here | Am I the only one disgusted at Clay Aiken? I literally can’t stand seeing his face. Someone just burn this guy alive.
- click here | Victoria Beckham is the reason why I want to have plastic surgery.
- click here | Meet the 24-hour, 6-foot-6 party person. And no, she isn’t a tranny.
- click here | Meet the Olsen twins’ male counterparts. Twice the money, twice the fun!
- click here | Kate Moss to start her own clothing line?
- click here | Check out Catherine Malandrino’s online boutique
- click here | Take a look at Prince Harry’s crotch. God I wanna give it a good fondling.
#7 – WHAT IS… AND WHO MADE THAT BAG AND HOW COME I DON’T HAVE IT? I WANT ONE I WANT ONE I WANT ONE!!!
Pic courtesy of my favourite celeb paparazzi photo site, www.celebworld.org
#8 – Flex that plastic and shop, shop, shop!
- click here | I LOVE this tank top. Cute online store from Australia. Super cheap, too.
- click here | BORROW, I repeat, BORROW, the biggest brands in designer handbags.
- click here | Cute ipod cases from Fred Flare.
- click here | I’m eyeing those denim shorts from Frost French. Thing is, I’ve got hairy legs!
- click here | I kinda like this Luella bag. £795 from this lovely online store called "Little London".
#9 – Check out the Bryanboy Forums for Podcast #005′s tracklistings. Visit http://www.bryanboy.com/forum.
#10 – I’m sorry but La Lohan has grown on me. I used to hate her but man, she really is my guilty pleasure. I don’t care if she’s got a ton of freckles… I love HER!! I’d die if she did a Bryanboy pose and hold an "I LOVE BRYANBOY" sign pic. Hahahaha!
#11 – Check out NYC’s Social Elite Power Ranking. Tinsley Mortimer, I love you.
I think that’s all for now.
Email email@example.com or SMS +63.915.785.1492. I love you all!
PS. Discuss this blog post here.
Work ittttt! Exercise!
After approximately 3 weeks of channeling domestic goddess Martha Stewart, I finally put my best dancing shoes on and went to the city yesterday evening to infuse some nightlife into my system. I’m seriously surprised how I managed to stay indoors in the past couple of weeks. Shit, I’ve been hibernating in my own little world filled with plaid aprons, white carnations and yellow daisies.
Any child of MY age SHOULD BE out there indulging in crime, mischief and scandals… or get themselves drunk till they pass out and vomit whatever they ate during the day. They should also do hard drugs, enjoy unsafe sex with multiple partners until they get sperminated or preggers and of course, catch a sexually transmitted disease that can be sorted out by a bunch of antibiotics or lice shampoo. Afterall, life is too short not to experience such hell-worthy sins.
Let’s face it, it’s a waste of youth to stay indoors on a Saturday night, especially if you’re in your late teens with raging hormones (like me). I’ve been ITCHING to expose myself to the toxicity of bars, booze and clubs so I decided to do just that.
I left the house at 10:30PM. On my way to a friend’s house, REALITY knocked on my car window while we’re waiting for the stoplight to turn green: the REAL and SAD face of the "FAUX-bulous" third world I live in.
Why is there a young boy, probably younger than 10 years old, selling flowers on the streets late at night when he should be at home asleep?
And there I was… all comfortable in my fully-airconditioned crappy car, all dolled up and decked in ridiculous outfits + accessories that can pretty much feed this child for a year and even send him to a good school.
It really made me think for a second and trust me, this doesn’t happen VERY OFTEN considering I’m the most selfish and materialistic son of a bitch you’ll probably ever come across.
I kinda felt guilty about my sins so I gave the kid a bag of chips and a bottle of gatorade that I had in my car.
He smiled and thanked me. I asked if I can take a photo, he said yes. I thanked him and I closed the window.
I tried to delete, delete, delete, abort, abort, abort, whatever just happened from my head. It wasn’t the right time to think about charity and world peace. My mission for the night is to have fun and paint the town periwinkle. The most important thing in the world at that moment is the fact that I’m so fucking beautiful and that was that.
Anyway, I picked up my friend at her place. I also asked my driver to stop by at the cash machine so I can take out some cash. Usually I don’t take out that much since everywhere I go takes credit cards – booze, food, botles of champagne, drug dealers, hired hitmen, shit, even prostitutes these days take credit cards… all it takes is one swipe on their ass cheeks and they’re yours for the night.
So yeah, US$20 is enough for the night to cover highway toll-fees, fast food take out, tips, my driver’s fee, etc.
After entering my pin number, the machine asked how much cash I wanted to take out.
Out of nowhere, I had mental images and flashbacks of the street child’s face. The thought of using my visa card to pay for a night’s worth of debauchery gave me a weird feeling at the pit of my stomach. Gone are the days where I’d easily and effortlessly throw my plastic to the air and rack up a 6-foot long bar tab in 6pt Arial font.
I figured I’m gonna ditch the visa for once and pay in cash the entire night so I don’t go overboard. Afterall, there are children starving on the streets. I entered P3,000, which is about US$60.
Our first stop was this bar called "Nuvo" where we spent quality time chatting. I had a gin tonic and 3 frozen margaritas. It was refreshing indeed.
We then went to my usual haunt, La Embajada. They recently got renovated and it’s the first time I went there after their renovation. They now have 2 VIP areas, which is a good thing.
I thought I’d do the infamous Bryanboy pose. Afterall, it was at La Embajada where I gave birth to that pose.
There weren’t a lot of familiar faces so it was fun to let my hair down for a change, get all sweaty and wrecked.
It’s refreshing to ditch the glitz, the glamour, the pretension and just dance, dance, dance and sweat like a fuckin rapist!
A fan from Australia even approached me and said hi. See, I’m nice and I don’t bite. I got a photo of us taken. Shit, I probably scared the living hell out of her. HAHAHHA. Sorry babes!
Man, it’s just like the good ol’ days when me and my sister would go to the club, booze our guts out, dance like there’s no such thing as tomorrow.
I must have lost 5 pounds from all that dancing! To hell with it, I had a complete body workout.
This guy is a good DJ. For the life of god I can’t remember his name and I’ve seen him many, many times.
Sunglasses by Gucci, bracelet from Hermès, cropped hoodie by Norma Kamali for Everlast, tank top by Fake London, jeans by Fake London, shoes by Dior Homme, Ursula Elise bag from Marc Jacobs collection.
The Marc Jacobs bag is available at all Marc Jacobs boutiques worldwide, Neiman Marcus, Saks, Bergdorf and eLuxury (US$1,050) in the USA.
We left the club at around 3:30AM. I dropped my friend home then I stopped by at McDonald’s for a post-clubbing snack. I orderedd chicken nuggets, 2 large fries, a double cheeseburger, a big mac and a large coke.
And yes bitches, I ate them all. There goes my 5 pounds eh?
Today’s Obligatory Paparazzi Shot
Due to high demand from my readers, I am now gonna post an "obligatory paparazzi shot" going on forward. Many of you have emailed telling me you enjoy these shots so I’ll try to do this often.
Isn’t it my cropped hoodie sooo Muslim chic? Perhaps I should make a trend out of the burka. Sooo sexy!
5 SECONDS OF TV AIR TIME
Guess who got 5 seconds of TV Air Time in San Diego, California?
I’d like to give a big shout out to Peter from San Diego. In his own words, "thousands of San Diegans know that somebody in San Diego loves Bryanboy."
Peter sent a text message to be shown on the big screen in between performances. It’s a concert featuring Mary J. Blige, Rihanna, Chris Brown and other folks.
Visit Peter’s website at http://www.petterz.com.
Thanks babe. You’re a doll!!! You’re doing the world a big favor by spreading my gospel and the glory of my faggotry.
Those Europeans sure do know how to make a gook like me happy. They love their labels as much as I do.
Meet Oliver from France…
…Terry from Italy
… and of course, the father of my first born child, Alex from the UK, who is the original "I LOVE BRYANBOY mascot.
It’s Sunday, 6:54PM. I’m gonna work on Podcast #006 and my much-awaited Bryanboy Loves… and Random Cheesemax post.
You all know where to contact me. Email firstname.lastname@example.org or SMS +63.915.785.1492.
I love you all. Don’t do anything that I won’t do and remember kids, keep your chastity belts on.
PS. Discuss this blog post here.
Fun, Fun, Friday
First things first. Many, many thanks to Alana Tourin, a writer for the Ottawa Citizen who mentioned my fabulous self. I also got published on the Ottawa Citizen, a newspaper in Canada. It looks like her article for the Ottawa Citizen got syndicated by the folks at Edmonton Journal so her piece hit two stone at once! FANTASTIC! Isn’t it amazing how a third world low life nobody such as me get mentioned on newspapers where eskimos play hockey, where marijuana is legal and its citizens wave flags with the maple leaves? *kidding*. I LOVE CANADA!!!!!!!
OK I look scary on that photo. —>
The article is available online to subscribers only so you may have to subscribe. Don’t worry, I’m still giving blowjobs to members of the Canadian embassy/parliament so they can send me a hard copy that I can scan and post online.
Click here to read the article.
I went to the big city yesterday afternoon. It’s the 2nd time this week that I went to the big city. Amazing eh? I’m supposed to be the domesticated queen of the south, away from the bright lights, the booze and the toxic, fake people with the phrase "LIP SERVICE" stamped on their foreheads.
It’s a good thing I went to the city in broad daylight. 1PM to be exact. I brought our maid’s daughter, who is currently spending summer in our house to visit her mom, as my paparazzi for the day. I’m surprised she takes good pictures. Shit, even better than Eunice. I miss Eunice though.
God I love looking gorgeous. Money can’t buy class but money can definitely buy beauty…. oh and moneycan induce attitude. Screw class at this point… they don’t call me the new-moneyed classless bitch from hell for nothing.
Long live the gaudy gladiators!
Foulard by Louis Vuitton, Sunglasses by Gucci, bracelet by Hermès, oversized tank top by Calvin Klein, silk cardigan by Roberto Collina (Italy), jeans by Acne, boots by Frye, handbag by Dior, necklaces by Irene’s Closet.
I’ve always taken pride with my onion bulby noise and my nonexistent chin and jawline but seriously, I wonder what I would look like if I finally went through the knife. I believe in natural beauty. We should be happy on what god had given us… but I’m really, really, really curious what I’d look like if I had a nose job and a chin implant done. I’m too scared though!!!!!!! I think I should just be happy with myself.
That Dior Gaucho bag is HUGE, I’m telling you. I have the double saddle version for US$1,995. It’s available at Dior boutiques worldwide, Neiman Marcus, Saks Fifth Avenue, Bergdorf Goodman and the like. I even called one of my friends because this is a bag that I don’t get to use often. I probably have used it no more than 5 times. If you’re interested in buying it from me, let me know. I’ll even throw in an autographed picture of my cock if you want.
Don’t you think our maid’s daughter takes good photos? It makes me realize how BLESSED I am in this world. I need to lose weight though.
If you haven’t noticed, I’ve been wearing cardigans the past few weeks to conceal my flabby arms.
(SEE THAT WHITE CAR OVER THERE? A COUPLE OF KIDS IN THAT CAR SCREAMED "BRYANBOY!!!!" WHILE HAVING THIS PICTURE TAKEN AND THEY DIDN’T EVEN GET OUT OF THE CAR TO SAY HI. IDENTIFY YOURSELVES BITCHES, I DON’T BITE!!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA. I’M NOT A CELEBRITY. I’M JUST A NORMAL PERSON WHO WANTS LOTS OF MONEY, FAME AND LOVE HAHAHAHA)
Shit, I used to tease my young sister for wearing sweaters and cardigans when it’s fucking 37 degrees celsius (or 98 degrees fahrenheit) out to cover her fat and now I’m going through the same thing.
KARMA MIA HERE WE GO AGAIN. MY MY HOW CAN I RESIST YOU??
I also went to Rustan’s, my favourite department store in Manila. It’s been ages since I last went there. I didn’t have the chance to roam around to check the goods but I get to go to the VIP Services section (a third world faggot of my calibre deserves nothing but VIP treatment. KIDDING. HAHAHAHAHA) and I bumped into my friend Mariko, her artworks are AMAZING, and his super adorable (I wonder if it’s MUSCLES inside that blue shirt) assistant.
Mariko and I had lunch at Cibo (my fave Italian snackerie), followed by dessert at a cafe inside Rustan’s called "Eat". I also got a little tour around Rustan’s. Someone please give me US$20,000 so I can buy a new watch. Please? I give good blowjobs and I’ll even swallow your population paste no matter how bad the taste is.
Here’s the obligatory paparazzi picture of the day.
Behind me is one of Manila’s biggest malls, Glorietta. They’ve got Paul Smith there, "masstige" and other "affordable luxury" (that’s the term I learned yesterday hahah) items. The tall building is called "Oakwood". It’s a "posh" place where all these corporate white expats, who live here in the long term, fuck their filipino brown pussy loot. *I’m kidding.* I’ve never been there but it’s supposed to be a plush "residence" type thingie.
Mariko and I went to Glorietta to buy magazines. We bumped into Liza of the fabulous THEFASHPACK blog. I LOOOVE her accessories! Look at how she customized her LV speedy!!!
We all had to go on our separate ways and what’s a trip to the city without paying a visit to the house that monogram built? My Mexican buddy Mauricio, who is now in Spain, fainted when I told him I went to LV. Thank god there aren’t any monograms in sight. That man would fly first class to the third world just to strangle me if I get anything monogrammed.
I’ve been eyeing this epi leather tote. It’s soo gorgeous!
Yes mother fuckers, Louis Vuitton cover some of their bag handles with plastic. There are people out there who think they are "know it alls" and say LV never does that. Well, the camera doesn’t lie.
I went home after Louis Vuitton. I was tired, knackered and sleepless from the previous night.
Overall, I had a fun Friday. Domesticated goddess my fucking ass. I want to be a taitai! TAI TAIs of the world UNITE!!!!!!
Anyway, I thought I’d share some of my guilty pleasures.
I visited my grandma down south on Thursday afternoon. I try to visit the old brown lady as much as I can because she’s not getting any younger. I’m trying to get her to walk but her lazy fat ass would rather be pushed on a wheelchair by one of her maids. She’s the most stubborn person I know. She’s 80-something years old, she can still walk and everything but she’d rather do it the easy way and take a ride on the wheelchair. The only time she’ll stand up is when she raids the larder to eat. I love my grandma to bits though. There won’t be a Bryanboy without her eggs.
Here’s a Filipino delicacy. It’s called "taho". I know it looks disgusting…. but it tastes soooo good.
Taho is basically made out of bean curd, liquified sugar and those pearly things called "sago". People usually buy them in a cheap plastic cup but I can’t get enough of this stuff so I asked them to give me a shitload in a bowl.
I haven’t had tahoo in years and now is the best time to indulge myself in such delicacy. It really is delicious. I usually ask the taho man to put a lot of the sugary syrup and those pearl thingies.
I LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE TAHO! It’s not even expensive. I spent like P15, or around US$0.25 cents (YES, 25 CENTS) for the entire bowl.
For more information about Taho, visit the blog Dessert Comes First. You’ll even see what a taho man looks like!!!
Click here to visit the site.
Oh, oh oh, my subscription to US Weekly has finally arrived. I used to spend sooo much money buying US Weekly at the gas station. I hate how shops in the Philippines jack up the prices of such trash rags. I remember paying US$8 for each issue… screw that. Now that I’m a subscriber, I can finally oogle on my celebrity obsession.
It’s one thing to visit my fave celebrity gossip sites, Celebworld, PinkistheNewBlog, SocialiteLife and PerezHilton, and it’s another thing to see everything IN PRINT!!!!!!!!!
God I’m sooo white trash, I mean, whitewashed (in the third world no less) it’s not even funny anymore.
I think that’s all for now. I’m gonna do a huge Bryanboy Loves… and Random Cheesemax in a bit.
More updates later.
I love you all, as always. Email email@example.com (AND firstname.lastname@example.org because my other email might be fucked up). You can also send me text messages at +63.915.785.1492.
PS. Discuss this blog post here.
PPSS. NOW THIS IS WHAT I CALL TRUE LOVE.
THIS IS MANNA FROM HEAVEN AT ITS FINEST.
Since there aren’t any guys out there who would strip naked and cover their crown jewels with the I LOVE BRYANBOY sign, I decided to take up lesbianism instead.
Keep them coming!!!! I NEED PICTURES LIKE THESE SO I CAN ATTRACT HETEROSEXUAL MALES TO VISIT MY SITE. YOU GOTTA LOVE THOSE STRAIGHT MEN.
MAYBE WE CAN PLAY THE "BAITBUS" GAME WHERE A STRAIGHT GIRL FLIRTS WITH A GUY, BLINDFOLDS HIM, AND THEN GET A FAGGOT LIKE ME TO SUCK THEIR COCK. OOOH LA LA.
Oooooh Imagine the fun eh? IIIII NEED A HOT SEXY FAG HAG SO I CAN PLAY THIS GAME!!!!!!!
OOoh la la eh?
PS. Discuss this blog post here.
HOLY FUCKING SHIYET FENDI
FENDI DEDICATED A POSE FOR ME!!!!!!!!!!!!! HOLY FUCKING SHIYET!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
IT’S MY POSE!!!! IT’S MY HAND ON THE HIP POSE! IT’S THE BAG HANGING ON THE AIR POSE!
THE BEAUTIFUL ANGELA LINDVALL DID THE INFAMOUS BRYANBOY POSE!!!
SOMEONE PLEASE CALL THE PRESS OFFICES OF FENDI AND KARL LAGERFELD AND TELL THEM I LOVE THEM SOOOO MUCH (AND THEY SHOULD GIVE ME FREE BAGS FOR COPYING MY POSE !!! HAHAHA)
Shit, I should’ve trademarked my pose back on July 2005 and sued Fendi but what the heck… I fucking love Fendi!!!!!!!!
What a coincidence, eh?
The fabulous folks at www.buxey.com were roaming around Roma Fiumicino airport today and found this glorious dedication to my glory hanging besides customs.
Here’s photos of me and my Fendi B-Bag 9 days ago… click here.
NOTHING CAN BEAT THE ORIGINAL, THE LEGENDARY AND THE INFAMOUS BRYANBOY POSE.
I LOOOOOVE FENDI!!!!!!!
I’m gonna spend the next few hours later uploading hundreds of your bryanboy pose submissions to my photo album. I’ve collected them ever since I started the blog.
Before I continue, I got a mention on the Edmonton Journal, a lovely newspaper from Canada the other day.
I remember one of their writers emailing me a long time ago and I never had the chance to follow through because of my schedule. I think it was around the same time I went on a mini vacation break. UGH!!! Nevertheless, her article about handbags got published and I got mentioned there… about my favourite handbag line in the world, Goyard!!!!
CLICK HERE TO READ THE ARTICLE.
I called their editor just now to see whether I can get a faxed or a scanned copy so I can add it on my Press/Media center. Unfortunately, I’m in the Philippines so I can’t get a copy of the paper. Oh well.
Cross your fingers. I hope she faxes it to me soon. I’d love to have it on my portfolio.
Edmonton now, the world tomorrow! Bryanboy loves Canada and Canadians should love Bryanboy.com.
Remember kids: help me in my quest for world domination. Spread the world about my gospel and my glory to every one that you know.
WORLD PEACE THROUGH FAGGOTRY!!
Time flies sooo fast it’s unbelievable. Heck, it’s MAY, for god’s sake and I haven’t accomplished anything "worthwhile" at all!!!!!!!!!!! I can’t even believe it’s already THURSDAY early morning. I must have spent the past day or so SLEEPING.
You can blame my fresh prescription for clonazepam/rivotril. Man, I love this stuff. One half of a tab and I’ll doze to neverland faster than the speed of light.
Anyway, I’ve been having sleeping problems for the past few weeks. Some days I’ll sleep for 3 or 4 hours MAX. Some of my friends from Sweden and England often ask as to when I usually go to bed because I’m always ONLINE!!!
I usually ask my doc for rivs if I can’t get xanax. Seriously, those little periwinkle pills of alprazolam/xanax/xanor sell like hotcakes in this country. It’s a known fact that the pharmacies in the third world can’t supply my usual xanax.
Well.. guess who just got up from a 12-hour sleep? ME!!!
Before going to bed, I had 2 cups of rose tea from Fauchon, some danish butter cookies (with Fauchon raspberry preserve spread on top), some grapes and slices of cheese a family friend gave me who just got back from Paris… oh and the last season of Sex and the City on DVD.
In the words of my bag hag, Mrs. T., truly luxurious! I feeel so refreshed now.
Sunglasses by Dior, oversized turqouise necklace (2 strands) from L’Obelisk, watch by Chanel. oversized tank top by Mark Eisen, cardigan by Yacht Club, jeans by Acne Jeans (Sweden), shoes by Gucci, bag by Goyard.
I’m telling you.. you guys should better get a Goyard bag soon! Mine’s a Goyard Croisiere 35 and it’s availbale for US$1,690. You can get one from the Goyard boutique in San Francisco or in St. Honore, Paris, Harvey Nichols Hong Kong, Barneys New York or Bergdorf Goodman in NYC. It’s a GORGEOUS bag and you can tell it on the pictures. Go Go Go Goyard!
Tuesday was a fabulous, low-key affair. I really felt like a REAL tai-tai. HAHAHAH!
I met up with Mrs. T. (on the last minute) for lunch and shopping.
My maid Eunice went on month-long vacation. My mom’s maid’s daughter, who is a nice girl, is spending the month in our house. Her family lives in the province and they often drop by in our house to visit her mom (one of our maids) during summer/vacation time. She’s my paparazzi for the day because my incompetent, evil bitch troll of a sister is out with her boyfriend.
I think my mom should just adopt her so I can dress her up in my teeny tiny outfits. Oh dear… I hope the Department of Child Services don’t arrest me for child labor. HAHAHAH!
Skinny jeans for the mother fucking win!! For some strange reason, my legs look skinny from behind. I love my size 26 Acne Jeans from Sweden. I HATE MY THUNDER THIGHS though.
Our first stop: Sakae Sushi. It’s one of those conveyer-belt sushi eateries. Damn I miss Yo! Sushi in London. I used to go there back in the dark ages like EVERY SINGLE DAY. Shit, I remember spending 5 hours each day at Harvey Nichols, the food hall, a quick meal at Yo! Sushi and a coffee at the 5th floor cafe. This was many, many, many years ago.
After our scrumptious lunch, Mrs. T and I went to Irene’s Closet.
I’ve been wanting to drop by at Irene’s shop for the past few months but I’ve been sooooo busy whoring myself online and giving unsuspecting white tourists my infamous $5 blowjobs. It’s sooo hard being a whore you know. Like what my dad keep on telling me since I was a child, time is the ultimate luxury.
I LOOOOVE Irene’s Closet. There’s a ton of good finds and they even have pique polos for pooches!!! I should’ve stopped by the ATM Machine because I didn’t have a lot of cash with me and they don’t accept plastique fantastique yet.
See that brown hat above the clothes rack? That’s MINE!!!!! I’m definitely gonna come back to pick it up.
Mrs. T. then brought me to a lot of boutique shops in the city. Shops I’ve never heard of before. For instance, we went to Abfit Jeans Co., which stocks True Religion, Rock & Republic, Seven, etc. I even found this gaudy but cute patchwork bag. I didn’t buy it though. Hahahha!
Today’s obligatory paparazzi shot:
Our last stop was this called "Fibre" and I found this gorgeous, gorgeous bolero with hundreds upon hundreds of layers of fabric made by Louis Claparols. It’s sooo avant-garde!!!!
I tried it on and it suits me perfectly. I would have worn a plain white or beige sleeveless top underneath it. It’s quite pricey though, at P8,500 (roughly around US$160) but then again, it’s quite "couture-ish" so it’s a steal! I told the gals at Fibre I’m gonna come back and think about it.
More Louis Claparols pieces…
This jacket is sooo Liza Minelli. Very matronic!
ALL of the pieces in Fibre are unique and one-of-a-kind. They carry pieces from Filipino young designers and some of the pieces there are the actual pieces that the designers use on thier shows. You won’t see anyone else with the same piece, trust me.
Even Mrs. T. tried something on…
We also met Vicki, who owns Fibre. She’s really lovely and super nice.
Apres-Fibre, Mrs. T, Vicki and I went for a quick coffee and chit chat session. I took this opportunity to take a photo of our twin Goyard bags. Mrs. T brought her black one while I got my white. Aren’t they cute?
There’s a ton of photo thieves out there so I watermarked the photo. God knows if pictures of our twins end up on eBay.
You know, I need to catch up with my tan. I’m too pale and fat. It’s a known fact that being bronze and brown can give the illusion that you’re stick thin. I can’t even wrap my hands around my upper arm anymore.
What a fun day eh? I should be doing this more often and go out during the day.
I still can’t get over the fact that I did LUNCH.
WHO THE FUCKIN HELL IN THE CIVILIZED WORLD
DOES LUNCH AT 12:30PM?
I usually do "lunch" at 4 in the afternoon, sometimes 5!!!
Bryanboy Loves… and Random Cheesemax
#1 – Bryanboy loves people from… Oxford, OH, Amsterdam, Netherlands, Brommy Kyrka, Sweden, Douglasville, GA, San Diego, CA, Garden City, NY, Morimondo, Italy, Vienna, Austria, Limburgerhof, Germany, Kuopio, Finland, Minneapolis, MN, Skoglsa, Sweden, Campinas, Sao Paolo Brazil, Bucuresti, Romania and of course, all the gorgeous chavs in Glasgow, Scotland. I love each and every one of you. Say hi, don’t be shy and send me pictures of you holding the "I LOVE BRYANBOY" sign!
#2 – SO THIS IS WHAT PARIS HILTON’S LUGGAGE LOOKS LIKE. FABULOUS! Paris Hilton arrives in LAX… For some strange reason, these hideous bags remind me of pretentious snobby twats I always see at airports and act as if they’re the Queen of Zululand at the business class counter but all they use are cheap, nylon, promotional bags given out for free by corporations. These are the same type who would go all postal and complain at the airport counter girl for refusing to upgrade their cattle class tickets.
#3 – Ever since I was young, I’ve worked hard and I’m still working hard to build a future or a name for myself without kissing people’s ass or without the help of others. I’m trying my best in keeping my personal and professional lives separate but there are scrupulous (AND psychotic) people out there.
Ohhhhh I hate gossip mongers. Some people should really just get on with their fucking lives. Trash talking about other people YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW won’t get you anything. Money? Fame? Personal satisfaction? Ego trip?
And to think, most of these people are nobodies in their own right. I can’t help but wonder whether these people can survive staring at themselves in the mirror because of the way they spit vitriol and trash other people.
I don’t mind gossip. It’s fun. Shit, I even do it myself. But when it gets REALLY personal, defaming and career-destroying then that’s where I’ll draw the line. Oh well. The price you pay for being a fuckin "out there". Fame and celeb status can lick my scrotums anytime. I’m not even famous! I’m not even a celebrity! Screw those damn labels. If I’m famous, I’d be given a ton of free clothes, free accessories, get a free nosejob, and I’d have my own billboard on the freeway!
#4 – More love from people around the world…. you know what to do faggots. Keep them coming! Email email@example.com.
Here’s my non-sexual wife with the I Love Bryanboy sign. Hannah you skank you’re getting fat!! I can see flaps on your arm. You and I…. we need to renew our membership at Anorexics Anonymous. I love you babe and I miss you sooo much. We should have sex when you get here. I don’t care if our babies turn out into brown monkeys… we’ll dress them in Chanel couture for the world to worship em.
BY THE WAY YOU LOOK PREGGERS IN THAT PHOTO! WHO THE FUCKIN HELL KNOCKED YOU UP? IS MY SPERM NOT WORTH OF YOUR EGGS?
Afterall, Chanel trumps skin color anytime! Take a look at me for instance.
I also would like to say hi to the Sarah Lawrence girls. I LOVE EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU YOU FUCKIN SLUTS. Thanks for doing the infamous Bryanboy pose. Are you people like, poor? Why are you borrowing my wife’s handbags?????? *kidding*
I WANT SARAH LAWRENCE BOYS GOD DAMMIT. I DON’T GIVE A FUCK THAT BULLDYKES OUTNUMBER MALES IN THAT SCHOOL. WHERE’S THAT JEWISH FAG JORDAN? I WANT YOU ALL TO STRIP HIM NAKED AND COVER HIS JEWISH COCK WITH THE I LOVE BRYANBOY SIGN.
I also love Jonathan from Rhode Island and of course, Erin, who vandalized her arm for the sake of her love to me, queen of faggotry.
#5 – Ka-ka-ka-ka-karmmmmmmmma. Hahahahahahahahaha! I hope things are doing good on your end. Last time I’ve checked, people no longer store leftovers in plastic tupperware cases… they throw them away or feed table scraps to the dog! Ka-ka-ka-ka-karma! Karma mia… here we go again. My, my, how can I resist you?
#6 – Those religious fanatics are out to get me again!!! I don’t understand the hypocrisy of those religious fanatics. One minute they’d be reading my blog, the next minute they’d go all crazy because of the fact that I photoshopped my fabulous fugly face to an illustration of a woman wearing a nun’s outfit. Look mother fuckers, isn’t homosexuality is a sin? Then what the fuckin hell are you doing on the website of the gayest gay that ever gayed? Go away before you turn into salt. Visiting this site means that you support me and my faggotry.
#7 – Remember kids, Podcast #005 is out now. My recent podcast is dedicated to the best city in the world, Paris. Click here for more information and hear me sing Vanessa Paradis’ JOE LE TAXI.
#8 – I have 1,622 emails I need to reply to. I PROMISE I’LL REPLY TO THEM ALL.
I LOVE YOU ALL
AND I FUCKING LOVE FENDI!!!!!
AND FENDI LOVES ME SOOOOO MUCH!!!!!!!!
All of you sluts know how to get a hold of me. Email firstname.lastname@example.org or SMS +63.915.785.1492.
PS. Discuss this blog post here.
You know, I was soo pissed at my sister earlier. I didn’t get to go to Starbucks afterall. I was gonna sleep but I ended up watching Wicker Park (Josh Hartnett, Diane Kruger) on DVD instead.
And boy I cried a shitload.
I’m gonna sleep now. I didn’t wanna wait till I get up later to post this entry.
Please pray to god almighty that I dream about Josh Hartnett later.
I want him to rape me in my dreams like he’s never raped anyone before.
I need sleep god dammit!
OOOOOOOO and I want his babies too.
I’ll update later.
PS. Discuss this blog post here.
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!
PS. Discuss this blog post here.
Podcast #005 – PARIS
Ah Paris… the international headquarters and the motherland of all things fabulous.
Everything here is just utterly, utterly gorgeous. I can roam around town and never get bored or run out of things to see. The breathtaking architechture, the fantastic attention to detail, all the museums, shops, cafes, restaurants, people… everything!
Today’s podcast is dedicated to my love for the most magical, enchanting and seductive city in the world. There is NO other city in the world that exudes beauty and drama like Paris does. Beautiful place, beautiful people, beautiful things, beauty beauty beauty!
The tracks on my latest podcast gives me flashbacks of all the memories I had the last time I went to Paris (mid-December 2005).
For instance, the song "Summer in Paris" made the dreaded ride from Charles de Gaulle airport to my hotel at 16th arrondisement bearable.
And then there’s the time when I had "Naturally" playing on my ipod as I sashayed down Saint-German-de-Prés on a clear, winter afternoon after paying visit to Café de Flore.
I also put on my best John Galliano outfit (and high-voltage attitude to match) when I powerminced like Mariacarla Boscono (on a Cavalli show) around Le Marais while listening to "What Else Is There" (Royksopp). It’s soo gratifying deep down inside to put that arrogant "I’m a rich bitch, get out of my way you fucking minimum wager… take one good look at me because this is how you should do it" walk. I’d get murdered right on the spot if I do that here in the land of the brown, l’exotique and the natives.
Yaddi yaddi yadda.
Out of all the podcasts I did, I think this is the best one so far. I wish I knew how to speak the lingua franca of pretentious people worlwide fluently but alas, my French is limited to putain de salope, pede et morue. I know I’m gonna get shot sooner or later by a Frenchman for bastardizing their language.
Nevertheless, as compensation for raping your ears, I went ahead and sang a song to the tune of "Joe Le Taxi" by Vanessa Paradis. It’s the only French song I got memorised, thanks to John Galliano for using it on one of his shows.
Click the link below to download my latest podcast. You’ll be redirected to my Podcast Mailing List subscription page where you’ll need to enter your name and your email address. This, along with all future podcasts shall be delivered to your email account.
You don’t need to do anything if you are currently subscribed to my list. You should have already received the podcast download links via email.
Lookie lookie at what I found earlier. Even French Boys send in their best rendition of the original and infamous Bryanboy pose. I LOOVE it.
Isn’t it fantastique??? One of them even got my Great Wall of China in November ensemble last year… shorts, tights, high-cut shoes. I like his touch though… he wore Burberry (eeek!!! chavs) as a scarf and Converse whereas I wore Lagerfeld Gallery by Karl Lagerfeld fox fur stole and Yves Saint Laurent shoes.
The tables have changed and it’s the French copying underaged, Asian sexshop, I mean, sweatshop workers like myself. HAHAHAHA!!!
I’ll keep this entry short and sweet. I’m knackered to the bone, it’s 12:50PM and I need to sleep. You know how to get a hold of me. Email email@example.com or SMS +63.915.785.1492.
I love you all!
PS. Discuss this blog post here.
PPSS. Keep an eye out on my blog entry later tonight when I wake up. It’s gonna be FUN, FUN, FUN, I promise you. Baboosh!
PPPSSS. Tell me what you think of PODCAST #005! Post a comment on my site or email me.
Allow me to indulge in a moment of shameless self-promotion.
Generally-speaking, I don’t give a fuck on what people think of me or say about me. I won’t deny that I’m a proud attention whore and a good one at that. I like jacking off every time someone says something where I’m involved. It doesn’t matter whether it’s positive or negative. There’s something pleasurable (and self-satisfying) every time I find my name on an internet site or forum or whenever I hear from my moles and minions that people are talking behind my back.
I always tell myself, "wow, people are really making the effort in vocalizing their thoughts and opinions." It’s wonderful being able to ellicit some sort of a reaction.
I searched my name on google earlier this morning and the world’s #1 search engine came up with 83,800 results. "Kate Moss" came up with 4,300,000 results while "Paris Hilton" got 44,100,000. That’s right mother fuckers, fourty four MILLION one hundred thousand results.
I know it’s absolutely wrong for me to compare myself to these 2 women considering I’m a certified nobody but come on, I know I can do better than 83,800.
You see, it just occured to me that I should no longer deny the fact that my true purpose in life is world domination through my faggotry.
One day when I become the United Nations Secretary General, get really really really famous and super duper filthy rich, I want to be able to bitch at all the people who made my life miserable (including the ones who constantly pulled me down and didn’t believe in me) and say "say hi mother fuckers, don’t cry for me Argentina eva-peron style", followed by a wink and an airkiss that Marilyn Monroe would be proud of.
Now, none of this is gonna happen WITHOUT YOUR HELP.
From New York City and Adelaide, Australia, to New Zealand and Hoofddorp, Noord-Holland in the Netherlands, people, teenagers and teenagers at heart (oh dear god hahaha) all over the world are reading my blog… including people from my hometown, Las Islas Filipinas aka land of the brown, l’exotique and the natives. I’ve got each and everyone of you, fabulous, fantastic and lovable maggots, dancing on the palm of my hand.
According to Female First, Anna Wintour, editor-in-chief of American Vogue said she has 3 commandments to maintain the standard of her magazine.
#1 – aim high. very high
#2 – have fun and last. but not the least…
#3 – keep your finger on the pulse and KEEP YOUR INFLUENCE BY EXERCISING IT.
Well, I want to put my influence to the test.
I want to see whether I’m larger than life or not.
I want you, yes, you, to feed my ego.
All this talk on various internet sites on how I’m a "blog celebrity" or how I’m "famous" makes me wonder if I’m really famous.
I really should stop pretending I’ve got a tiny bone of humility inside me. HAHAHAHAHA!
I think it’s best for me to cut to the chase and save all this incessant crap about fame for a later time.
I’m not happy I only got 83,800 results on google.
Why should I settle for 83,800 when I can shoot for 500,000???
With the help of corruption and bribery, of course, just the way we LOVE it in the ultra fabulous third world, I am hereby proud to present you…
You read that right.
I want you to pimp my fat ass on the internet.
It’s quite simple, really.
The person who spread the word about my blog www.bryanboy.com on the most number of websites will win a fabulous DOLCE & GABBANA (NOT D&G… there’s a big difference, maggots. hahaha) dog tag necklace with the word "SEX" in swarovski crystals.
Don’t ask me how much it costs. The only thing that I can tell you is Dolce & Gabbana ain’t cheap, so there. =)
I usually give sexual favours but given the distance
from my brothel to where you live, I figured this is
the next best thing to my infamous $5 blowjobs.
As a bonus, I’ll throw in an old copy of one of my favourite reads EVAR, the ultimate nouveaux riche and social climbers’ "feel good" book entitled, "THE RIGHT ADDRESS" by Carrie Karasyov and Jill Kargman.
All you need to do is bombard every internet website, online forum, blog, chat room, online networking sites (MySpace, Friendster, etc) whatever about my gospel and my faggotry and email me the links where I can read about what you or whatever the site owner said.
The person who emails me the most number of links AND bring the most traffic to my site wins!
I’ll run this contest from now until May 15, 2006. Just email me all the links where you (or your minions) mentioned me. Don’t send me your name or your mailing address. I only need that information once I pick the winner.
FYI: I have this amazing website stats program that can track where people are coming from so you can’t really cheat. LOL
If you have any questions, email firstname.lastname@example.org.
I’ll be watching you all very closely.
I bet some bloggers out there will copy my self-promotion antics.
There are sites out there who already copied my "I LOVE BRYANBOY" sign pics and INFAMOUS BRYANBOY POSE etc…. I wouldn’t be surprised if I get copied again this time.
Well, it happens to only the best, right?
Spread the love bitches and always remember…
Oooooooo the sheer thought of knowing that you’re all watching me VERY CLOSELY too is making me moist with delight. I bet I’m driving you insane already.
I love you all as always. Email email@example.com or SMS + HÖRA ETT EXEMPEL PÅ ETT MEDDELANDE
(ignorera musiken i bakgrunden)
Du kan också ställa vilken fråga du vill. På ENGELSKSKA, såklart. Jag kommer publicera ditt meddelande på min nästa podcast.
RING NU SLYNOR! ALLA NI SMUTSIGA SVENSKA SLYNOR, HOROR OCH BÖGAR! jag vill höra din röst, det borde inte ta mer än 1 minut. Hahahaha!
Jag älskar er som alltid.
Mariah sang a song for me
Oh. my. fucking. god.
You people have got to listen to this voicemail I got a few days ago. Mariah called in and sang a song especially for me. I was gonna put it on a new podcast but I’m too friggin lazy and I can’t be bothered.
Click here to download the voice message.
I’m not really a Mariah fan but after listening to that voiceclip, I realized damn, I should love her too!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
You, too, can call in my voicemail line and leave me messages. In fact, you can even call in and ask me questions. I’ll answer them on my next podcast.
Pick up the phone and dial +1.206.339.3479.
That number is located in Seattle, USA. If you’re calling from outside the USA/Canada, you’ll need to add your international dialling code before calling this number. Don’t forget to say your name, where you’re calling from, whether you love me or not and of course, you gotta say the magic word BABOOSH!.
Hat by Chanel, short-sleeve cropped hoodie by Norma Kamali for Everlast, oversized tank top by Karoo (Mark Eisen), jeans from Cheap Monday (Sweden), B-Bag from Fendi and boots from Dior Homme.
Can’t Say No to Nokia
The fabulous folks at Nokia recently invited me to join one of their campaigns for their phones. They’re going to launch the new NOKIA 3250, a phone that allows you to listen to play tracks, listen to music, take photos with the 2-megapixel camera etc. It’s a lovely phone. I got mine in… PINK!!!
The shoot went well. I got there in time. I thought I was gonna be late but the traffic wasn’t as bad as I thought. It took no more than 25 minutes from my house to the big city… on a rush hour!
I guess I’m an easy subject. Hahahaha! ‘styling’ me was effortless. HAHA! I hope so. In fact, all I had to do was bring my own clothes and accessories. Make-up didn’t take more than 5-10 minutes. It was piss easy.
Eunice is such a pig. I gave her my leftover pizza and the bitch smothered pizza oil on my camera hence the blurry pictures. Argh!!
There’s absolutely NO excuse for my bovine-sized love handles.
BTW, that’s Karla, fab stylist galore… she’s also the Fashion Editor of Philippine Tatler magazine.
I also met Lourd of Emphasis salon. He’s my
nonsexual wife anorexic daughter Hannah’s stylist. He’s the guy who did my makeup. I need a tan pronto!!! Standing next to him makes me feel caucasian. I’m soooo pale I hate it!!!
I guess y’all have to wait until the campaign goes out on the papers to see the end result. I’m SOOO excited! I feel like a model. Hahahha! YUCK. My faggotry is finally paying off!!!
I can’t wait to have my own billboard one day!!!
HAHAHAH! :) You all know how I’ve always fantasized about having my own billboard. Someone just please fulfill my dream pronto. I’m not getting any younger these days.
Ok.. well.. it’s either a billboard or a crocodile birkin bag.
After the shoot, I went to the cash machine to take out cash. It’s been ages since I last went to McDonald’s and I had a weird chicken craving, thanks to my Mexican buddy Mauricio. I know I LOOOVEEEEE Jollibee Chickenjoy but I can’t, for the life of god, find a Jollibee drive through at the place I went.
Did you know that my motherland, the Philippines (aka land of the brown, l’exotique and the natives), is probably THE only place in the world where McDonald’s sell fried chicken?
Oh dear. My bum looks big on this photo. Hello J.Lo!
Work it like you own it.
Mmmmm yummmy!!! I loooove McDonald’s fries. Take note how nobody wanted to fall in line behind me. I guess that’s how scary I am.
My favourite New York Queen Bee socialite once said that being on a wheelchair at the airport is like flying FIRST CLASS +++ PLUS. You automatically get in front of the line!
Screw the wheelchair. I’d rather be a fag! I LOOOOOOVE being a fag cause I get to have all this space around me. Let’s face it, it really is fun when nobody wants to go near your initimidating flaming ass for the fear of catching the homosexuality bug.
Even Nicky Hilton and our Fendi B-Bag will agree with me.
This just in… courtesy of Perez Hilton.
It’s official. Kate really sobered up her act and stayed away from cocaine. Oh no!!!!!!! She looks like a fat woman!!!!!! I hate it!!!!! What did this woman do to the legendary Kate Moss?
I guess this whole sobering up/weight gain/domestication thing is VERY trendy these days. All the fabulous people in the world are domesticating themselves and fattening up.
Yes, I know, I know. I haven’t paid ANY attention to my InsideMyBag.com baby in the past few months. Please don’t be mad at me. I decided I’m gonna resurrect that site and update it with your submissions.
PLEASE send me a picture of what’s inside your handbag. Email firstname.lastname@example.org. Give me a couple of hours and I’ll start with the first set of updates.
I’d truly appreciate it if you spread the word about that site to everyone that you know.
I **PROMISE** I’m gonna do everything that I can to update that website often.
I know I fucking look like a stroke victim on this photo. One of my eyes look weird but what the hell. All I can say at this point is…..
LONG LIVE FAGGOTRY!
More updates later. I promise.
Enough faggotry for now. You know how I close my blog entries, right?
I love you all. Email email@example.com or SMS +63-915-785-1492.
PS. Discuss this blog post here.
I’m getting bored…
First things first… I’d like to give a big shout out to readers of Elle Girl magazine in the Netherlands. Thanks for loving and talking about me.
Ik HOUD van ELKE EN ELKE ÉÉN VAN U! VERZEND ME een BEELD VAN U DIE HOUDEN Het TEKEN Ik van de LIEFDE BRYANBOY! KUSSEN!!!
Ok. My Dutch is all wrong and that’s what I get from using one of those online translator things. Hopefully y’all get the jist out of it. HAHAHAHA!
I finally managed to get my lazy fat ass to my dermatologists yesterday afternoon. There’s a photo shoot I need to go to and I have to look pretty.
First stop: Coffee Bean
THANK god the whipped cream-serving bulldyke of a midget wasn’t there. I don’t want anyone to be spitting on my drink (unless they’re cute, hot and rich… but then again, no cute, hot and rich person will work as a barista) after whingeing on my blog.
Just to be safe, I EXPLICITLY told the lovely lady behind the counter that I DO NOT WANT WHIPPED CREAM on my drink… my wish is her command.
Cardigan by LAROK, white tank top by Calvin Klein, brown/rust-colored jeans from Acne Jeans (Sweden), boots from Fruit, bag from Hermès, amber and gold necklace from Kenneth Jay Lane, sunglasses from Dior
Boy I got a surprise for all of you.
You see, I often get asked as to who takes my photos. In addition to my familia de horreur members and friends, well, let me unveil one of them. Meet my maid, Eunice.
Eunice has been my maid for quite some time and she’s the best, best, best friend a faggot like me can ever have. She’s got everything about me memorised. She knows some of my deepest, darkest secrets. She’s been with me through obesity and thin and up to this day, I’ve never heard a single word (.. or grunt) from her in spite of everything that she’s done for me, like cleaning up all my puke on the bathroom floor after a good night out… or my soiled, skid mark-infested underwear.
nonsexual wife anorexic daughter Hannah would complain about her "hunchback" maid, Simang, every once in a while.
HOY HANNAH, at least your maid ain’t a lesbian!!!
Today’s obligatory paparazzi shot.
I have a feeling my maid Eunice might be a lesbo. I’ve never seen her show any kind of perverted emotion towards guys.
OK… WAITTTTT.. she thinks that Piolo (spelling?) Pascual
Filipino actor guy is cute.
She won’t believe me when I told her that he’s gay like a row of pink camping tents.
So yeah, I had my usual glycopeel cleaning/extraction facial.
For the first time in ages, I didn’t feel any pain today. God knows why. I usually have low tolerance for pain, expecially while having a facial done. I know I scream like a pregnant prostitute bitch in labor every time my aesthetician extracts a white head from one of my blocked pore.
Today’s lack of pain made me think about things I don’t usually think about on a day-to-day basis.
For instance, sometime last week, I told a friend on how I’m starting to get bored. I expressed my desire to experience something new, like, learn a new skill or take up cooking classes.
She suggested that we learn a foreign language together… take up French at one of those Alliance Francaise centers. I told her sure, why not. We even checked the availability online and the session that we want won’t start until October. There’s a 3rd and 4th session but we’re both planning to travel around June/July/August.
While the lady pricked my face, I realized I’m at that stage where everything is just stagnant. I’m turning into a stale, 20-something.
I mean, I know I’ve changed tremendously in the past 12 months. However, if I look at it on a different perspective, it feels as if I’m not going anywhere. My life’s at a standstill and I’m doing the same things over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again.
I told my friend this and she thinks "I’ve gone so far and achieved so much already".
I remember the old times when I used to deny myself from owning to what I’ve achieved in order to delude myself into thinking I have a tiny bone of humility inside me.
But I still can’t can’t help but ask myself the $64 million question.
WHERE AM I GOING AT THIS POINT?
Let’s face it, I won’t deny that all I do is shop, shop, shop, work, work, work, shop, shop, shop, spread my faggotry to the world, shop, work, eat, eat, eat, spread my faggotry to the world, shop, shop, spread my faggotry to the world.
It’s gotten to the point where it’s like a routine.
Shit, it’s MY routine.
Everything used to be fun. Every time I get a material ‘acquisition’…a bag, a jacket, everything… it brings a genuine smile to my face and I feel soo… contented. I know I once said that being severely materialistic makes up for my lack of non-material things in life. But in all honesty, I don’t take my sense of materialism too seriously. Afterall, it’s only material stuff!
Enough ranting. I already sound like a broken record.
I think it might be therapeutic if I list what I want to happen SOON.
- have a clear sense of direction on where I’m heading
- experience something NEW and FUN!
- learn something NEW… a new skill, a new hobby, whatever
(Would you believe I even went as far as researching VOLUNTEER OPPORTUNITIES in countries like ECUADOR and ROMANIA? I don’t know what came over me considering there’s over 80 million people who need help in my own backyard. My familia de horreur had always told me to stay away from hallucinogenic drugs and the people who take them.)
Before you go on a high horse and bombard me with your PREDICTABLE sanctimonious crap, I’m begging you to please avoid telling me to
- just be "myself" (and)
- donate to charity.
An escape from reality is what I need. Away from the blog, the Chanel, the Fendi, the Goyard, the shopping, the facials, the cellphone, the internet, the familia de horreur and of course, the sheer thought at the back of my mind that I’m surrounded by vultures who are constantly looking for that perfect opportunity to devour me alive.
I need a holiday. A 1 or 2 month-long vacation. Somewhere extremely remote and far-flung but close to civilization. Somewhere where nobody knows me and I know nobody.
Somewhere like Skåne, Sweden.
I want to be surrounded by nature. I want to pick fresh flowers, see trees, ride a huge horse. I want to buy a lot of art materials and learn how to paint scenery etc., that sort of thing. I also want to get gangbanged by well-hung farmboys and have hot and horny mixed-race baby-making sex on top of a tractor.
Remember Jakob, the Swedish guy I met up with in Copenhagen> He’s the only person in the world who managed to made me walk (and you KNOW I despise walking) for like 2-3 hours just to find that bloody Little Mermaid Statue?
Well, he offered to take me to his summer house in Varberg middle of nowhere bumfuck Sweden.
If I take him up on his offer that beats the purpose of me travelling somewhere where "no one knows me and I know nobody".
Hmmm pakipot ka pa alam mo naman kung saan matutuloy yan.
I wanna go to Skåne god dammit.
Oh I’m just soooo bored with life right now. All I need is change. That’s all.
PS. Discuss this blog post here.
PPSS. The only thing that making life worth living is your love. And John Galliano.
Bryanboy loves Erick from Vandenberg AFB (Air Force Base?) California. Erick sweetie you do know that one of goals in life is to get gangbanged by the military/navy/army/men in black etc, right? PLEASE GET SOME OF YOUR AIR FORCE BUDDIES TO STRIP NAKED AND HOLD AN I LOVE BRYANBOY SIGN FOR ME.
Screw the don’t ask don’t tell policy. If I get gangbanged by men in uniform, I want MAXIMUM MILEAGE, MAXIMUM PUBLICITY. I want to make a shitload of MONEY and sell videos of it.
Failing that, the Bryanboy pose picture will do just fine. :)
You really love me do you now? Can I ride your aeroplane? It’s my aeroplannnneeee…
Alex from Tasmania, Australia. Big kisses from me to you. I love ya lots darling even if you sent me a damn photochopped photo. I SAID NO PHOTOSHOPPED ONES… HAHAHA ;)
This set of photos is better than PORN!!! I jacked off 10 times and my balls are the size of raisins. Courtesy of Clair from Perth, Australia.
(This is what I call TRUE LOVE)
PPPSSS. OH MY GOD. THIS VIDEO HAS GOT TO BE THE GAYEST VIDEO I HAVE EVER AND I MEAN EVER SEEN.
I’m gonna go to sleep now. I have a photo shoot later today.
PS. Discuss this blog post here.