Pictionary Galore: Guilty Pleasures and Errands
I’ll never forget what a friend said — I should never, ever, ever, ever, feel guilty about my pleasures.
That’s why I’ll let you in on one of my deepest, darkest secrets.
Screw the amazing confit de canard or seared escalope de foie gras I had from Josephine Chez Dumonet in Paris.
Assuming I got sentenced to death for a henious crime (rape, murder, etc.), this would be the last meal I’d ask my jail warden.
I ***LOVE*** Jollibee Chickenjoy. It’s the best fried chicken in the world.
To hell with hypertension and blocked arteries. Not even cardiac arrest would stop me from eating the crispest chicken skin. Dip ‘em in gravy before shoving it up your gob. It’s pure oral orgasm right then and there.
If you don’t live in the land of the brown, l’exotique and the natives and you are planning to go to this country, don’t forget to pay Jollibee a visit. You’ll thank me for it.
It’s 2:30PM here and I accomplished a lot of stuf today. I went to my friend’s office to pick up my airline tickets.
You gotta love those Cheap Monday jeans I got in Stockholm. They’re the BEST skinny jeans ever. Thank god I bought 2 pairs of the same style. I should’ve bought 5 pairs… silly me. God knows when I’ll go to Sweden again.
I also went to my office to pick up my mail. I haven’t been to my office since I left. Silly me. Jakob from Sweden has been bugging me to go there cause he sent me a Christmas card. He sent me a card back when I was in Paris and to my dismay, it’s still not there. I hate it. I’ll ask him to send me a card again.
A card that says something like how he’ll be the father of my first born child.
Hahahaha! Fuck it. I’m sooo disappointed with the third world postal system.
Filipino Postal System = EPITOME OF THE SLOW BOAT.
I’m starting to like this smile thing.
Moving on…. I got a surprise from all the lovely folks at Fudge Magazine. Thanks :) They sent me a copy with me on it. I’m a label whore alright. Loves it. :)
These Cheap Monday jeans are REALLY a godsend. I swear by them. I don’t know how you can get them without going to Sweden. Search it on google or something.
Here’s another smile smile photo. Enough already. I think it’s getting quite obvious that I’m faking it.
All I can say is…. GORGEOUS. FUCKING GORGEOUS.
I also went to the Peninsula Hotel valet shop to pick up my dry cleaning.
And of course, no trip to the city would be complete without…. SHOPPING! I bought 2 shirts at Paul Smith and I also went to Shoemart (aka "SM"). If you want cheap bargains, go to SM. I love that place. I think the last time I went there was back in 2004 when I bought a samsonite thing. I bought a shitload of socks… and 3 pairs of shorts (brown, beige and olive) for no more than US$50!!!!!
Today’s been productive. I love how I accomplished everything in no more than 4-5 hours.
Bryanboy Loves… and Random Cheesemax
#1 – Bryanboy loves people from Abbotsford, NSW Australia, Negros Occidentail, Philippines (woah!), Camberwell, VIC Australia, Cincinnati, OH, Austin, TX, Englewood Cliffs, NJ, Coventry, CT, Stoufville, ONT Canada, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, Kearny, NJ, Columbia, SC, Orlando, FL, Lindfield, NSW Australia, Spartanburg, SC and of course, people from Bethesda, MD. Bryanboy loves you all. Identify yourselves bitches and lick my ass crack.
#2 – I feel sorry for those who judge a blog’s success by the amount of comments that one gets. It’s NOT the comments that make a blog successful. There are a few out there who want to spark a war between my blog and someone’s elses blog. Screw it though. My time is valuable and my mere 2 brain cells can’t handle anything more than what I currently have on my plate.
#3 – Send me some love! Send me some hate! Send me whatever it is that you can create! I love the latest batch of pics showing the infamous Bryanboy pose. These Americans sure know how to do it.
OOOOOOOOOOO Some 100% pure NYC love right from the middle of Times Square… I love you Colleen, I love you Kiersten!
Runnin’ pretty, New York City girl, Twenty-five, thirty-five, Hello, baby, New York City girl
You grew up ridin’ the subways, running with people… Up in Harlem, down on Broadway… You’re no tramp, but you’re no lady, talkin’ that street talk, You’re the heart and soul of New York City
And love, love is just a passing word… It’s the thought that you had in a taxi cab that got left on the curb… When he dropped you off and he stated firm
Oh, oh, oh [Oh, oh, oh]… You’re a native New Yorker… You should know the score by now [You should know by now]… You’re a native New Yorker
Even Shoelover loves me… Visit http://shoelover.typepad.com.
FINALLY…. some homegrown third world love! Melanie sent me this fabulous picture of her family doing a tribute to… ME! Look at all those luscious lips… I love the pout on each and every one of you. GORGEOUS! ADOPT ME PLEASE? I need a new family…
I think that’s about it. For now. I’ll update later in the evening.
I love you all, as always. Email firstname.lastname@example.org or SMS +63-915-785-1492.
Blackbird singing in the dead of night. Take these broken wings and learn to fly. All your life. You were only waiting for this moment to arise.
Blackbird singing in the dead of night. Take these sunken eyes and learn to see. All your life. You were only waiting for this moment to be free.
Blackbird fly, Blackbird fly. Into the light of a dark black night. Blackbird fly, Blackbird fly. Into the light of a dark black night.
I love that song. I had to buy it off iTunes after hearing it yesterday… I just can’t get it off my head. In fact, it sorta kept me happy the entire day.
I even smiled for the camera… something I don’t NEVER do. What the hell though… fuck it! I’ll smile because I’m happy. This is probably the first or second time you’ll see my nasty teeth (they look much worse in real life) on this blog so consider this picture a milestone. I wish I have perfect teeth… just the way they have it on the red carpets of Los Angeles, CA. Americans (especially celebs) seem to have the ultimate smiles… 200,000-megawatt perfection… super straight, ultra white perfection.
I on the other hand got stuck with British teeth.
Screw my parents for being soo poor when I was a child. They probably couldn’t afford to get me some braces hence my bad teeth. My 8 years of smoking, my newfound addiction to coca cola and of course, my long-term love affair with tea pretty pretty much fucked up my pearly whites.
Ok… That’s a lie. I brought this subject up with my parents and they told me it was ME who didn’t want to wear braces because I thought they were ugly.
God.. if only I knew then what I knew now.
Ignore the hair. I wanted my hair to take a break from all the products that I use so I didn’t put anything on it. Yes, I fucking look like a lesbian. No, I don’t look like Sharleen Spiteri. Yes, I need to lose weight.
Yesterday was alright. It was an afternoon of pure pampering.
I had a massage, a foot spa session and a pedicure done. It’s nice to get my soles soft again. I also went back to my aesthetician cause I broke out over the weekend. I think I got 3 zits out of nowhere. They’re all gone though and I’m zit free again. Thank god for those injections.
I’ll keep this entry short and sweet. It’s 8:02AM and I have to go to a friend’s office to pick up my airline tickets. I’m spending the entire weekend at the beach!
You know where to contact me. Email email@example.com or SMS +63.915.785.1492.
I’ll update as soon as I get back. Good morning, good afternoon and good evening to all of you. I love you all!.
How Can Someone Be So Drunk And Still Look Good?
Here’s another reason why you should hate Paris Hilton. How in the world can she be drunk and still look fucking good?
I certainly don’t look that good when I’m drunk.
Hell, sober or not, I don’t look that good.
End of story.
Yesterday was a blast. I kicked off my day with a mini shopping trip to the city with my little sister.
I wanted to buy a present for a good friend (whose birthday is today) but I ended up buying a few things for myself. I picked up some incense, a necklace, a bracelet, a Gucci top, some Nars and Yves Saint Laurent cosmetics.
As always, no shopping trip is complete without paying a visit to my favourite haunt, M Cafe at the Ayala Museum. I had my usual lemongrass prawns + mango salad and oysters. I seriously love that place.
My sis even made me smile, in spite of having a bad hair day. Everyone knows I *NEVER* smile when it comes to photos. I hate it. I always end up looking like:
1) a rapist
2) a fake, plastic fantastic person
3) a psychopath
4) a devious, spiteful little bitch
5) and of course, a murderer
You be the judge and tell me what you think.
Apres dinner, my sis and I went home so I can shower, change clothes and go to a friend’s birthday party at Citrus.
I know I’ve been gone for (only) a month and a half but it felt as if I was gone for years. It was quite bizarre at first to see soo many familiar faces in the land of the "same old same old" – your friends, your former friends, your acquaintances, your new acquaintances, your backstabbers and your frenemies.
It’s all nice and wonderful though. It’s way better than staying at home in front of the computer (like what I usually do 95% of the time).
In spite of the booze, the palpitations and the pretense, I always learn something new every time I go out.
I always believed that I’m little miss imperfection in a bottle. Screw the cork open and I’ll create a spectacle. The more bottles you open, the further I perfect my act.
I admit – I still need to polish my social skills. Sometimes I feel like a fool for not being able to manage a decent conversation. When people ask questions, I want to be able to answer them eloquently.
The only time I can manage a decent conversation is when:
1) I’m being a bitch
2) I’m whining and complaining about something
3) the other person and I are gossipping about other people
I guess the hardest part is whenever people throw the ball in my court and ask questions about myself.
To an extent, I’m still uncomfortable talking about myself to other people, hence it’s easier to talk about others.
I was gonna add something to that "to an extent" sentence but I just realized why my blog exists!
Now I know why I’m such a pretentious, narcissistic cunt online. It’s because….
I HATE TALKING ABOUT MYSELF (IN PERSON OR IN PUBLIC), HENCE THE NEED TO PURGE IT ALL OUT ONLINE.
I think it’s true though.
I know I’m being completely rude. The reason why they’re asking questions about me is because they’re interested at me and would like to get to know me.
Anyway, back to yesterday’s events…. I have a manicure and pedicure appointment in an hour. I have to finish this post and get ready. Save the drama for a later time.
So yeah… I ended up drunk last night.
I was sooo FUCKING drunk I made statements like:
1) You know, I think I’m going to stop wearing tank tops and t-shirts for a month.
2) I think I’m gonna start wearing button-down shirts from now on.
3) I despise you!!!!!!
4) I’m not horny. I’ve lost my libido as soon as I landed at the (Manila) airport. (I told this to some guy who was cruising me at the toilets).
I wish I took more pictures last night but I was too drunk to function.
I love you all as always. Email firstname.lastname@example.org or SMS +63-915-785-1492.
No Facial Expressions
I thought I’d publish this addendum on the last minute.
1) Turn your speakers on.
2) Go to http://parisfacial.ytmnd.com/
3. Take note on how my gal pal Paris doesn’t change facial expressions.
4. Close the window (be sure to CLOSE the damn browser window)
5. Go to http://bryanboy.ytmnd.com
and tell me what you think.
Someone from an internet forum did this because he thinks I don’t change facial expressions.
Obviously he hasn’t seen my cum gargling picture.
I Want My Old Body Back!
After looking at one of my old pics, I realized shit, I want my old body back.
I had the body of an African gazelle. Look how beautiful I was… my long, thin arms, the gap between my elbows and my waist, my shoulders, my hips… skip the stomach part – I’ll forever be a pregnant bitch… not even quarterly liposuction sections can abort the fetus in my tummy.
I don’t give a fuck whether you agree with me or not but I think I fuckin looked DAMN good back then. Call me ugly, call me shit, call me fugly, I think I was once a gorgeous parakeet!
I love how I can be sooo full of myself sometimes.
What’s worse is the fact that this picture was taken only 3 years ago. It’s amazing what AGE can fucking do to one’s body. I turned into this tub of lard in no more than 1,000 days.
It’s 6:23AM and I’m having lunch in a couple of hours. I’m definitely gonna purge whatever it is I eat later… for old times’ sake.
This week is gonna be crazy.
It’s one of my friend’s birthday party tomorrow and I need to look good and presentable. I also have attend a party or two this weekend, one of which I have to dress up in my best "Shipwreck Glam" ensemble.
I think this is great. I’m finally having an opportunity to meet and interact with people again because I’m so sick and tired of being a lonely home tom.
I know it’s my fault why I’m a fucking loner.
I could easily go out each and every night but I’m just fucking lazy. I make no effort whatsoever about having a social life. I make excuses on how I don’t have anything to wear or how I live so damn far from civilization (actually, I do).
I’m also leaving in a couple of days to go somewhere el tropical – white sand, blue sky, cool breeze, sea, sun and sand in between my butt cheeks.
I started to pack my things and boy there’s a ton of outfit preparation (and shopping) that needs to be done.
I know, I know, I’m having the hardest time going logo-free. Especially if it’s Chanel we’re dealing with. Sorry to disappoint mother fuckers but shopping at the huge white store at Rue Cambon is pure torture if you want to ditch logo-a-gogo.
That being said, let me reassure you that I’m definitely gonna glam it up this later this year. Perhaps not in a "in-your-face" pile-it-all-up manner but something understated. Many of you have emailed, called and SMSed telling me I look good with my black ensemble in Paris. Fine. I’m gonna resurrect my black phase again so expect a ton of black clothes from me in the next few months. In fact, I even have black trunks/bathing suits en route to the third world from Tomas Maier.
Anyway, it just occured to me that I need to go back to the salon (again) sometime soon to get a trim. I want my hair a tad shorter and I want to get more highlights.
Bryanboy Loves and Random Cheesemax
#1 – I’m gonna give some internet discussion forum love today. Bryanboy loves people from General Mayhem, Killing Ifrit, Living With Style, Female Network, Skim Online, Houston Beats and of course, the lovely boys at Mens.Style.com.
#2 – Big shout out to people from Mount Laurel, NJ, Lynn, IN, Madrid, Spain, Ogden, UT, Chicago, IL, Dallas and Houston, TX, San Pedro, CA, Escondido, CA, Chandler, AZ, Des Plaines, IL, Marquette, MI, Bronx, NY, Carrollton, TX, Clayton, NC, Beaumont, Newfoundland, Brisbane, QLD Australia, Clifton Park, NY, Scranton, PA and of course, my homies at Cupertino, CA. Bryanboy loves you all! Identify yourselves bitches by posting a comment on my site.
#3 – Oooooooh I love these straight boys. You know how I love turning heterosexual, fanny-fucking boys into handbag-toting peeps. You know what to do to simulate the infamous Bryanboy pose – wear your best sunglasses, put one hand on your waist and do a nazi salute with a handbag! Email me your photos at email@example.com.
#4 – I now know what I wanna be when I get older. I wanna be the United Nations Secretary General! I swear to god, think of how beautiful and peaceful the world would be if I have the highest position in the diplomatic circle? With all the love I’ve been getting recently, I can unite the world in the name of vanityyyyyyyyyyyy!!!
Send your images of love and hate (NO PHOTOSHOPPED PICS PLEASE) to firstname.lastname@example.org. I’m having a whole new website with these pictures soon!
#5 – These images are sooooo fucking funny. Someone made them in attempt to insult me. Well, I found them hilariou – I like the one with the Chanel bag and the colourful dildos. Gorgeous, fucking GORGEOUS!
I think that’s about it. You know where to contact me. Email email@example.com (jesus man, how many times do I have to say that email address) or SMS my Moto Razr at +63-915-785-1492.
(say it with me. you know you want to.)
There goes my US$4.95.
I have to tell you people… I lurrrrrrrrrrrrve those folks at that forum Offtopic.com. The people there have been talking about me non-stop. Some guy even started a thread saying I’m probably the gayest person in Myspace (see my myspace profile).
One guy then asked the group whether the person below is me or not… and then some minimum-waging sweetheart showed off his photoshop skills and superimposed my blowjob pic there.
I love it! HI-FUCKING-LARIOUS. Thanks for making my day. Money well-spent. :)
Summer is Coming
Summer is fast approaching in the third world. Expect the battle of the beautiful bodies and the cellulite freaks in 2 months.
As always, boys have it all on the easy side. All they need to do is to ditch that beer, inject some steroids and start working out at the nearest gym.
Girls have it tough though.
I swear to god, I am so going to have this picture blown up to a posterific proportions and post it in front of my fridge.
I don’t care what one has to do to get that perfect body. I’m taking up bulimia classes first thing Monday morning and I promise I’m gonna take pictures of my first puke.
Even Lindsay Lohan admitted to drug abuse and purging. You go girl! Show these fat mother fuckers that the only way to lose unwanted pounds is by channeling Kate Moss and purging out our inner Fiona Apples.
No, I’m not surprised.
That lucky Nicole bitch has it all – the visible rib cage, the flat stomach, the gorgeous pelvic bones, lanky arms, the visble leg gap… everything a girl needs to look perfect on the beach.
Bryanboy Loves… and Random Cheesemax
1. Bryanboy loves people from Bordeaux, France, Atlanta, GA, King of Prussia, PA, Cleveland, OH, Dreieich, Germany, Leaside, ONT Canada, Desert Hot Springs, CA, Madison, WI, Wakarusa, IN, Sykesville, MD, Geneva, Switzerland, Vienna, Austria, Ong Lee Village, Singapore, Dublin, Ireland and of course, my homies in La Habra, California. Bryanboy loves y’all! Identify yourselves bitches by posting a comment on my blog.
2. Those Etnies shoes are nasty. Why get Etnies when you can get Etro. I want these damn sneakers. I bought a pair of these at Vivre.com for US$236.99 (formerly US$475). Aren’t they gorgeous?
3. Phoebe Philo resigned from Chloe (Vogue UK)
4. Where the hell can I get the new Tom Ford sunglasses?
5. I drink champagne in the morning, I drink champagne in the afternoon. I drink champagne in the bubble bath, I drink champagne in my dressing room. Chammmmmmpagne! Chammmmmmpagne! Chammmmmmpagne! Chammmmmmpagne! Chammmmmmpagne!
6. Some of the items stolen from me last year: Chanel sunglasses (2), various YSL and Chanel cosmetics, Lalique ring, Fendi squirrel key chain, travellers cheques, Dior watch, Piaget watch, Dolce & Gabbana flip flops, Marni necklace. I hope you’re having a ball with my stuff whoever you are. Just because I have a carefree attitude with my shit (i.e. I don’t store them properly or I just leave them anywhere) it doesn’t mean you people can take advantage of my vulnerability. Fuckin thieves.
7. Buy that Hotel Costes 8 CD. I bought it a couple of months ago and I’m still listening to it religiously.
8. The folks at the Valet Shop of Manila Shangri-la hotel need a good spanking. I called to ask what time they close and the lady told me they are open until 9PM. I got there at 8PM on Friday (in spite of having a bad cold and slight fever) and the shop was closed. The concierge said they close at 7PM not 9. Totally wasted my time.
9. More love from all over the world. By now you should know that true love comes in the form of photographs. NO PHOTOSHOPPED photos silvous plait. Email me prima facie evidence of your unconditional love at firstname.lastname@example.org. Be fucking creative god dammit. Go to your local fire station and get those firefighters hold that I LOVE BRYANBOY sign. Make them sweaty and get them naked.
I love these girls… kisses, hugs and chanel bags for you two.
10. I haven’t down a "Bryanboy Life Archives" tidbit in a long time. For those of you who are new to this site, "Bryanboy Life Archives" is where I take out skeletons from my colourful and not-so-closeted past.
This photo was taken in London 6 years ago, back when I was barely legal. I used to smile back then. Oh how I miss those days.
For more bits from the archives, click here, here, here and here.
11. Keep those text messages coming. Your messages of love and hate means a lot to a lonely mother fucker such as myself.
Thought I’d let y’all know that I’m an equal opportunity blogger.
I don’t blog for a certain crowd. I don’t blog for a certain class. Hell, I don’t even blog for any type of people.
I only blog for… MYSELF!
I think that’s it. It’s early Sunday morning (3:19PM) and I’m sick again. Damn cold and cough. I’m supposed to go out and have a ball. Fuck it, I’m sooo bored.
Rescue me from boredom. Entertain me mother fuckers. My email address is email@example.com. SMS +63-195-785-1492.
What to Look for in a Guy
Calling the attention of all single mother fuckers out there. Hear ye! Hear ye!
After all these years, now I know why I’m still fucking single. My standards are way too far up my own ass… I shouldn’t take my little guide religiously… and so…. seriously.
Whoever said love is blind should be shot to the ground and squished like roadkill. Fuck ‘love is blind’. Love is much better behind a pair of Boucheron (or in my case, Gucci) sunglasses.
For those of you out there who might be interested on what my standards are, feel free to read below. I added some nice celebrity (and pornesque) shots to illustrate what I meant.
1. He must be taller than you by at least a couple of inches… even with heels.
Save the midgets to the little people. People like you and me need a man who is taller than us.
2. He must be fit, well-proportioned and have better-than-average looks.
This is a tricky one. Someone who looks nice and presentable enough is good. On the other hand, going for someone who has a killer body and a hollywood smile is pretty much asking for trouble.
Skip the beautiful boys and go for the beautiful-but-not-so-beautiful kind.
3. He must be well-off.
One of our mantras in the Bryanboy School of Golddigging is "why date a parasite when that parasite can be YOU?". Let’s face it – nobody wants to date a fucking leech. Unfortunately.. most men here (who bat for my team at least) are fucking leeches. At least that’s what I’ve been told. Not that I’ve ever dated a guy here… in fact, I HAVEN’T!
Perhaps this is one of the main reasons why I’m still single in this cesspit of the third world. It already makes me sad knowing the fact that I’m not attractive. So why make me feel worse by going out with me only because you think I have money?
I’m not saying that we should all root for the wealthiest guy in the world… all I’m trying to say is it’s a matter of balance… like the picture above. Besides… who wouldn’t want to get nice orange boxes with brown ribbons once a week?
BTW.. AVOID students at all costs. That’s right. Those damn creatures (no matter how wealthy they are) will fuck you in the head.
4. Go for a gentleman.
It’s always nice when a guy treats you like a princess. A true gentleman is very, very hard to find these days. They are so hard to find that even our old hag Kate Moss goes for the young ones. I wonder, who the hell is this 20 year old mystery guy?
Would it be nice if you have a man at your disposal to help put your shoes on? Isn’t that sweet?
5. Always opt for the er.
Bigg-ER. Bett-ER. Great-ER.
Never sell yourself short. There is nothing wrong for wanting anything that ends with an ER. Bigger, better, greater.
Email me and tell me you love me. Email firstname.lastname@example.org.
I Finally Look Like a Boy Again.
It’s 4:46PM and I’ve been awake for the past 24 hours. I should really go to sleep but I thought it would be best if I post here before doing so.
I left the house early this morning to go to the salon. This is me at around 11AM.
The last time I had a haircut was a day or two before I left…. back in November.
Long hair doesn’t suit me because my hair is really thick.
I had some color work done, some highlights, a haircut and my nails…
Meet my coiffure… after 2 hours…
It’s amazing how a polo t-shirt can wipe an entire decade off my age.
I feel (and look) like I’m 14 again!
I’m knackered to the bone. I’m gonna hit the sack.
More updates later including my celebrity issue. Check in a couple of hours.
Y’all know where to contact me. Email email@example.com.
P.S. A big big hello/NI-HAO to all my readers in China, especially from my friends and frenemies at BBS Trendsmag !!!! I noticed a huge surge of traffic from there… I love you all! I miss Beijing.. and I wanna go to Shanghai!
The Simple Life
I’ve been leading a simple life these days because of exhaustion.
I’m too burnt out to work, too burnt out to travel… I’m just EXHAUSTED of EVERYTHING.
Maybe I should fly to middle of nowhere Arizona and check myself into one of those rehabilitation clinics.
I devirginized both my Goyard and Ordning & Reda agendas yesterday evening. It’s sickening to know that I only have 2 life-threatening things to do this week.
A haircut AND a facial this afternoon.
How boring is that?
I need to get my life back on track.
I need a social life.
I need to be productive.
I need to do something nice, something exciting, something vibrant, something life-changing, something fulfilling, something innovative, something profitable, something… something.
Seriously…. I can’t help but feel sorry and sad for myself, looking at how empty my life (and my agenda) is.
Maybe I need a hobby.
I don’t know.
It’s a MIRACOL!
Every once in awhile, Hannah Matronic (my estranged wife) and I giggle on how barok (primitive) my English is.
I’m a card-carrying free speech advocate. I believe everyone should be entitled to say whatever the hell they want without the fear of being anally humiliated by the grammEr (yep… grammEr) nazis, the spell-check squad and the syntax police.
It’s not uncommon in the land of the brown, l’exotique and the natives to be attacked simply because your English skills suck. Not even Chanel or Goyard can save your life in the social weighing scale because English proficiency is considered as a status symbol in this country.
On that note… I feel like screaming
IT’S A MIRACOLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!
One of my good friends said someone called her to say I forgot my cellphone and my wallet somewhere… and they’re holding it for me until I drop by to pick it up.
I can’t believe there are angels out there and my Moto Razr and my Goyard wallet is still alive and breathing oxygen.
*fingers, legs and toes are crossed*
I’ll try my best to pick it up today or tomorrow.
Remi Martin Through The Ages
Meet Remi. Remi is a sweet little kid (I have to admit that he’s far from little because the fucker is about 6-foot-2 tall) from Sweden. Remi is one of my "original fanboys", as he once said in an email.
This photo was taken today….
I was supposed to meet him when I went to Stockholm but he backed out on the last minute cause he was scared that his English ain’t that good. That’s alright though.
He’s a great chat buddy if you don’t mind talking to delusional model-wannabes who needs a nose job (thanks Mauricio). I’m kidding.
Seriously, Remi is a really sweet kid. He’s the big little gay brother I never had. I mean, he claims he’s "straight"… I think they all do in Sweden, but my gaydar and his medicine cabinet says he’s a flamer!
I feel bad for him because he got beaten up by 2 guys right on New Year’s Eve! He was drunk and he claims he wasn’t able to defend himself. Poor Remi. Not even the gayest of the gays (aka me) got beaten up on New Year’s Eve.
Speaking of young gay people, Hannah Matronic and I are onto something. I’ll tell you more about it later.
Let this post be a tribute to my good acquaintance Remi Martin. It’s amazing how he exemplifies human evolution. You don’t need to go to a museum or a library to research the history of man… all you need is Remi!
Back when Remi is as fat as a boar.
Remi when he was a chubby little cherub
Remi in his mid-teens. Look at the skin!
Remi with a friend
Remi in high school
Remi’s class picture
Remi on New Year’s Eve when he got beaten up
People of Sweden
Jag älskar er alla, ni svenskar också!!!!!
Maila mig era mammaknullare och säg hej!!!!
I love you all, as always. Email firstname.lastname@example.org and tell me you love me.