Familia de Horreur
I’m sure you’ve heard the news how we’ve got this huge storm that hit my motherland, the land of the brown, l’exotique and the natives aka Las Islas Filipinas. I feel terrible knowing that over 21 people died, over 6,000 people are left homeless. At least that’s what the Washington Post said.
But that didn’t stop me and from getting my nails done and a massage yesterday. Hurricane or not, I won’t let mama nature steer me away from pampering myself.
To hell with gray skies, rain and the nasty wind. I LOOOVE the weather! It’s supposed to be hot, hot summer hot in this tropical archipelago but we’re blessed with a beautiful, gorgeous, rainy gray yesterday – I finally got the chance to layer up underneath my Norma Kamali for Everlast gray puffy-sleeved cropped cardigan.
I spent the entire afternoon with all 3 of my siblings. Everyone’s got a busy schedule and it was rare for all 4 of us to be together. We’re not by all means a "perfect" family but it was nice and refreshing to enjoy each other’s company without fighting or having a argument even for a second. I think it’s because of the fact that none of us are getting younger these days. In fact, we even ditched the maids and we all took turns taking photos and videos of each other. It was amazing and fun.
Our first stop was Tips and Toes where we had manicures, pedicures and back massages.
Cropped hoodie by Norma Kamali for Everlast, sunglasses from Dior, white t-shirt from Topshop, silk scarf from Chanel, fish necklace from Chanel, faux pearls from a store I can’t remember, chain, leader and bead necklace from a local boutique called "Firmas", jeans by Acne (Sweden), boots from Chanel, metallic spy bag from Fendi.
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Work it like you own it. Fake it till you make it!
Anyway, we all used to fight one another and our parents would always tell us that we shouldn’t be fighting cause at the end of the day, we really got no one else other than each other. Fuck friends. "Friends" come and go and these days, they are dime in a dozen… and screw "life partners" and their variants. Boyfriends, girlfriends and "life partners" only last till they dump you.
(That’s ***MY*** turqouise necklace right there that Mrs. T gave to me and I haven’t even used yet!! UGH!!. The evil bitch troll gets to use some of my things first I hate it! LOL)
After Tips and Toes, we went to the Coffee Bean where I had a tuna sandwich (I only ate the tuna and the lettuce) and the usual vanilla ice-blended with NO WHIPPED CREAM.
Buy this month’s (MAY) Mega Magazine because I have a photo of me there somewhere.
I know all my siblings are fatter than me and believe it or not, there were times… many, many times how I thought I was the adopted child or I got switched at the nursing room at the hospital when I was born. The hell with it, my siblings probably think I’m soooo ashamed of them because of the way I act whenever we’re out in the public and they’d go all weird and loud and crap. Sometimes I’d take the piss at them and tell them they’re all short, fat and they dress like hookers or how they should stop borrowing my shit cause they’ve got theirs or other silly, random things. God, I must have hurt their feelings. Hahahaha!
If I may so, I’m a complete pig myself and I’m not the skinny young twink I used to be.
Nevertheless, yesterday was the only day that I realized that in spite of my sibling’s flaws…. OUR flaws (mine included), these are the people who have stood by me through thick and thin and will always be there for me no matter what happens. Blood is thicker than water indeed. I’m so fortunate to have them and I would NEVER EVER trade them for anything else. I’m also lucky that my siblings keep me close to reality… they’re the perfect antidote to all my drama and pretentions. They keep both of my feet on the ground. Unlike me, they’re all modest and humble, which makes my life balanced.
After the Coffee Bean, I went to the Body Shop to pick up some essentials.
And then we all went to meet up with the parentals for dinner at this Thai/Asian restaurant called "Banana Leaf", which I keep on mistaking for "Banyan Tree", which is a lovely chain of lovely hotels and spa in South East Asia.
I guess I should never be ashamed of my familia de horreur. Afterall, I’m lucky, very lucky, that in spite of being the black sheep in the family, they love me so much.
I JUST WISH I HAVE EXTREMELY WEALTHY POLICITIANS OR BUSINESSMEN AS PARENTS WHO WILL SPOIL ME ROTTEN BECAUSE THEY’RE ALWAYS BUSY WITH WORK OR THEIR EXTENDED NUCLEAR FAMILIES. I WANT SKINNY TALL MODELS AS SIBLINGS!!!! WHO NEEDS LOVE WHEN DADDY CAN EFFORTLESSLY BUY ME A BENTLEY? WHO NEEDS MOTHERLY ADVICE WHEN MUMMY WILL BUY ME EVERYTHING I WANT AT CHANEL? I WANT MONEY MONEY MONEY!!!!!!!! I WANT THE SPOILED CHILD WHO NEVER HADE FAMILIAL LOVE!!!HAHAHAHAHAHA!
All I can say is, my family may not be "picture perfect" but at least we’re SERIOUSLY not dysfunctional. I know I shouldn’t be judging other families because every one has a story to tell but I can’t help it… I have to share this sense of pride inside of me. I’m very proud that my parents have never cheated on each other, they don’t have unwanted spawn with some third party demon, they almost never fight and in spite of them not spoiling me rotten to the core and giving me EVERYTHING MATERIAL that I want, having a family who is ever so loving, accepting and understanding such as mine makes me want to forget all the fabulous material things in the world.
On that profound note, I’d like to greet my obese mother a happy mother’s day. Thank god you’re losing weight. I’m sooo jealous of those kids with skinny mothers. HAHAHAHAHA! But yeah, I’m glad your newfound DVD addiction helps. Keep up the good work. Losing 11 pounds is quite an achievement.
Oh and I know you guys got married on October and gave birth to me on March the following year. You can deny that I’m a love child (or a result of premarital sex) all you want but I’m still proud of you mum and I love, love, love you.
Today’s Obligatory Paparazzi Shot(s)
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God I’m fucking gorgeous in spite of the rain. Thank you lord almighty for making me pretty.
Coming up in a few hours… a new podcast and a new video. Stay tuned!
Email me and tell me you love me. Email firstname.lastname@example.org or SMS +63.915.785.1492.
I love you all!
PS. Discuss this blog post here.
PPSS. Keep the love and the pose photos coming!
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.