My trip to the grand dame powerhouse of all things media – TV and Publishing was FUN! FUN! FUN! Who whould have thought I’d get a nice, little tour of what goes on behind the scenes where the money factory is? Alright, the only thing that was missing was a trip to a radio station.
Let’s play pictionary shall we?
First off… I met this guy. He’s the son of a really famous actress who is now a politician. His name is Lucky if I’m not mistaken… yes mother fuckers… he’s that LUCKY for having Vilma Santos as his mom.
I *KNOW* what you’re thinking.
We went to a studio where a noon-time show is being broadcasted live. THEY WERE HANDING OUT MOTORCYCLES FOR FREE! It was soooo surreal!!!!! I stood backstage and I saw 2 motorcycles right pass right in front of me.
And then we went to another studio and got to see all these TV things…
And of course, I had to get my picture taken with this guy. He’s a famous actor here in the third world.
HANNAH MATRONIC EAT YOUR HEART OUT!
Ugh. I’m cringeing with shock, awe and horreur with all these cheeky fun. I LOVE IT though. HAHAHAHA!
Anyway, I saw him in flesh and he was running off somewhere.
Perhaps the highlight of my tour was the fact that I FINALLY got to see what a publishing house looks like. If you only knew how monumental it was for me.
(One thing I forgot to ask is why on earth there aren’t there any half-naked models going in for go-sees?)
You see, back when I was a child, I wanted to be a doctor. Then I realized I didn’t want to operate on all things lifeless (i.e. my dolls).
When my imaginary friends came into the picture (i.e. the SAME dolls), I decided I wanted to be a teacher. I talked to my stuffed toys all day and all night as if they were my students.
My parents bought me everything a teacher had; a blackboard, chalk, eraser, lesson plans and class record books where you write down your students’ grades.
I was 12 years old. Oh the memories.
When that inevitable thing called "ageing" hit me, I thought the perfect job would be that of working in a magazine.
You know… something really piss easy, like being an accessories editor for a fashion magazine… like yYou get your own page and all you do is pick 10 good accessories and bam, effortless work.
It’s only until last year that the truth came out.
Working for a publication will suck the blood out of your body and drain you like a whore.
I now have soo much respect for people who work in magazines/newspapers.
Nuclear Wintour is another story though.
Lindsay Lohan for Vanity Fair
I think my interview with one of the top magazines went well. I guess I’ve always been tongue-in-cheek and I’m just not used to be asked serious, in-depth questions. Today was quite different. Not even aluminum hydrochloride saved my palms from sweating. I did, however, answer in the best way that I possibly can (hey… practice makes perfect).
I’ve been interviewed several times in the past (mostly newspapers) and luckily, everything that has been published about me were 100and20% positive with no regrets whatsoever.
I have to admit I’m kinda feeling a little worried. But hey, it’s all about trust.
I sent a text message to some of my friends informing them where my new domicile would be in the event my self-depreciating mouth got me into trouble.
Especially the part where I said something about who I think is cute in local showbiz. Oh god. How embarassing.
1. I shared more than what I should’ve shared about my crappy childhood. It’s true though. I didn’t have true friends. Most of my classmates were two-faced homophobic bitches and my teachers came from hell. I sincerely hope they turn into fucking ashes.
Wait… they will!
2. I wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer. Never have, never will. And I will never be ashamed that all I got was Bs and Cs in school… add the Ds to conduct and religion.
3. I’m certified member of Home Hermits Anonymous; I usually spend 16 hours a day in front of the computer and I’m not fucking ashamed about it.
4. Contrary to what people think, I only go out once or twice a week and most of my "real friends" are limited to that of the healthcare sector – my manicure and pedicure gal, my aesthetician (Belinda), my hair stylist (Dennis of Provost) and my doctor (Dr. Andrew).
5. I’m really a loner.
6. My name is Bryanboy and I propel anorexia.
7. I’m kidding. It didn’t go THAT far.
8. You’d be shocked as to WHO I said the one person (in the Philippines) I’d love to meet.
Don’t worry… I’ll scan the interview when it goes out.
Bryanboy Loves… and Random Cheesemax
#1 – Bryanboy loves people from Livorno, Toscana Italy, Vienna, Austria, Kisa, Sweden, Gilles Plains, SA Australia, Forsby, Sweden, Buskerud, Norway, Jakarta, Indonesia, Auckland, New Zealand, Temecula, CA, Richmond, TAS Australia, Seattle, WA and of course, people from Annandale, NSW Australia. Identify yourselves bitches and say hello!
#2 – Many, many, many thanks to my hosts at ABS-CBN Publishing for the warm reception… and the scrumptious lunch!!!!
#3 – You know where to send imagery of your love. Email email@example.com. No photoshopped photos please!
#4 – Why is it soo damn hard to find SIZE 14 men’s shirts in Manila? The smallest size Paul Smith have is SIZE 15 or 15.5!!!! There’s a market for slim people out here you know? I know I’m starting to look like a malnourished African child complete with a bulging tummy and thin arms but hey, I need shirts too! If you know of a place where I can buy customized/tailored button down shirts (in Manila), please let me know. DON’T TELL ME I HAVE TO GET MYSELF FATTER JUST TO BUY MEN’S CLOTHES CAUSE I’D RATHER FLUSH MYSELF DOWN THE TOILET THAN CHANGE MY BODY WITH THE AID OF ANYTHING EDIBLE.
#5 – This photo screams LOVE. LOVE, LOVE and LOVE!
#6 – Yes mother fuckers. Even people from Hamburg, ARKANSAS (HOW FAR IS IT FROM ALTUS????) love my pose. Thanks Ginger. You all look absolutely stunning and gorgeous. I love you all!
And if that person wearing a red jacket is a guy, please tell him that I’d rather see him naked.
Gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous!
As always, you know how to get a hold of me. Keep those emails and text messages coming. Bryanboy@gmail.com or SMS +63-915-785-1492.
Stay young, stay pretty and stay beautiful. Don’t do anything that I won’t do.
I went to a friend’s birthday party at Cuisine (Embassy) and man, I drank like a proper alcoholic. The booze overflowed like crazy – I probably had 15 or so drinks and consumed no less than 3 packs of cigarettes..
I got up at 4PM today with a massive hangover… as if that’s something new.
Happy birthday Tim!
Jenni and the birthday boy Tim doing the infamous Bryanboy pose.
It was a night of fun, laughter and giggles, thanks to the balloons, clowns, carnival and circus-like characters (literally, not figuratively… what were you thinking? guilty as charged? hah) that peppered through the entire night.
I toned it down a notch yesterday… wore a simple polo tee, some tight jeans, Chanel bag and boots. I have never seen far too many beautiful people in my life… for the first time ever, I didn’t feel overdressed. Heh!
I met a shitload of people yesterday, it’s amazing.
Tomorrow’s gonna be a big day for me. I’m going to one of the country’s biggest media and publishing powerhouse to meet people… and I’m feeling restless.
1. I have nothing to wear. Appropriately.
2. I’m meeting new people I’ve never met before. How many times have I ranted on my blog I have absolutely NO social skills whatsoever?
3. I’ll most likely be the focus of their attention.
4. I’ll be talking about myself. You know how I get squirmy talking about myself in public.
Just cross your fingers and wish me luck. I think I’ll go casual and wear my Dior Homme jacket and jeans.
Hopefully it will save me from publicly humiliating myself… and if I did make a fool of myself, at least I wore Dior Homme.
Bryanboy Loves… and Random Cheesemax
#1 – Bryanboy loves people from Nagano, Japan, Ashfield, NSW Australia, Vancouver, BC Canada, Watson’s Bay, NSW Australia, Bangkok, Thailand, Stamford, CA, Tampines Estate, Singapore, Tagene, Sweden, Tacoma, WA, Mountain View, CA and of course, people from Osaka, Japan. Bryanboy loves y’all… identify yourselves bitches and say hello!
#2 – Paranoia won’t get you anywhere. It’s all in the head. You’ve gone through a lot anyway and I’m sure it’s nothing new to you. Peanuts, anyone? Saucer of non-fat, pasteurised (and sour… not bitter) milk please.
#3 - Fuck Visine for red eyes. Anyone know of a good thing that I can put on my eyes so they won’t turn red every time I binge on booze?
I’m late for my facial. I’ll update later.
You know how to get hold of me. Email firstname.lastname@example.org or SMS +63-915-785-1492.
Be beautiful, stay pretty and keep up with the vanity. Sex might sell but being gorgeous (or trying to be gorgeous) is much, much better.
My god has been generous to me in the past year. And because I am your god, I’ll be generous too.
I know it’s kinda late but I’d like to give y’all a present – exclusive Bryanboy.com desktop wallpapers.
There is NO other way to decorate your boring old desktop than to post my pictures. Click the graphic below and see what awaits you.
(Alternatively, click the link above and select "Save As".)
I hope you’ll enjoy them as much as I do.
Ticket to Indulgence
It’s Tuesday morning and I’m back in this hideous concrete jungle called Manila. I kinda feel sad because I was soo knackered last night I wasn’t able to see Hannah before she left for New York.
(Photo credit: Mark Nicdao)
My Nami weekend was nothing but FABULOUS. Everything I needed was catered for by the unprecedented staff. I was fed with the most amazing and delectable food. I was spoiled with fantastic presents (oooo I love the Kerastase goodies). I even got a new mobile phone… and a cute faux monkey (hopefully the bestiality fans at PETA are proud now because it’s faux) courtesy of Motorola!
Hump my monkey bitches!
The service at the resort is superb. For instance, there was a time when my camera was running out of batteries… I was sunbathing. Rather than going up to my room to charge my batteries, I called my personal butler and he did it for me instead. It’s simple, little things like this (on top of many others) that made my stay TRULY luxurious.
(Photo credit: Pepper Teehankee)
(Photo credit: Ciara Sevilla)
If ever you’re going to Boracay Island, be sure to pay Nami a visit. It’s your ticket to indulgence. More pictures from the weekend. More pictures coming soon as soon as I finish the photo album. Enjoy!
Errr… no. I just realized I’ll keep the monkey to myself. I won’t PETA touch my little stuffed toy of love. This is what the folks at PETA should drool over. I **LOVE** roadkill.
Bryanboy Loves… and Random Cheesemax
#1 – Bryanboy loves people from Houston, TX, Stockholm, Sweden, Sacramento, CA, Latham, NY, Sydney, NSW Australia, Volpiano, Piemonte Italy, Chicopee, MA, Reston, VA, Seattle, WA, Pico Rivera, CA, Stoke-on-Trent, UK, Budapest, Hungary, Markham, ONT Canada and of course, all my friends from Budapest, Hungary. Bryanboy loves y’all. Identify yourselves bitches and say hi. I don’t bite.
#2 – Don’t you all love backstabbing twats? Backstab and badmouth me all you want… Rest assured, I’ll always be nice… and sweet… in front of your face and your ass crack. I have ABSOLUTELY nothing to lose in the first place whereas your antics reflect negatively on you. Hopefully you’ll get a hint one day. I always thought you were nice and quite the smart one but it turns out you’re a spiteful, evil, cocksucking, two-faced piece of shit who needs to get his balls chopped off while they’re playing the sound of music (or somewhere over the rainbow) in the background.
Sounds familiar? I hope you’re pissing on your expensive underwear right now. I doubt that’s gonna happen though. You probably have your head too far up your own ass you don’t even know what the words "emotions" and "feelings" mean.
#3 – Oh. my. god. I still can’t get over the fact that I accidentally spilled a drink to one of the most powerful men in Manila’s social scene over the weekend. I was handing out drinks to everyone on our table and I knocked off my drink… to his crotch! I almost had a cardiac arrest when that happened. I have never been subjected to such embarassing situation and I ended up handling it with a limp wrist. It was soooo humiliating I wanted to cry.
#4 – I drunk dialled Jakob the other night and ended up talking to him for an hour on the phone. Ugh!
#5 – Ugh! I owe my friend Ianne brunch/lunch/dinner for losing one of our bets.
#6 – Does anyone know how I can get US$20,000,000 (20 million dollars) easily?
#7 – One of my friends got a gold python Fendi spy bag for her anniversary. I’m dying with pure envy. Someone buy me a new bag god dammit.
#8 – The pictures literally says it all when it comes to the Golden Globes, thanks to Perez Hilton. Click here! Want a sampler? See below.
#9 – Fall/Winter 2006-7 Men’s Fashion Week in Milan is in full swing. Click here for the latest and the greatest, courtesy of British Vogue. I like the oversized cardigan/cardigans from Missoni.
… fuck the clothes. We all know I prefer womenswear.
The only reason why I keep track of the men’s shows is because I love jacking off looking at fine speci-MEN.
I mean, look at the slices on these guys’ faces. Gorgeous. Fucking gorgeous!
Ooh la la. This is probably Dolce & Gabbana’s finest collection in a long time.
More updates soon. You know where to contact me. Email email@example.com or SMS +63-915-785-1492. I love you all!
It’s 5:14PM and I thought I’d make all of you guys squirm with envy.
This is exactly why I love my country… it’s moments (and views) like this that makes me proud to be a citizen of the land of the brown, l’exotique and the natives.
I’ve spent the entire afternoon lazing around the beach and the sun deck (at Nami, of course).
Sea, sun, tan and sand all over my balls… I’m a happy camper.
Gorgeous, isn’t it?
Nami Boracay – http://www.namiboracay.com.
I love you all! Email firstname.lastname@example.org or SMS +63-915-785-1492.
Believe it or not, I’ve been feeling down and depressed the past few weeks. I’m absolutely exhausted of everything. I need to do something new. I want to see something different. I want to experience something else.
This is exactly what I needed: a vacation from a vacation… and there’s no faster way to do it than to fly to the el tropical islands of Boracay.
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 email@example.com 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 firstname.lastname@example.org 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 email@example.com 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 firstname.lastname@example.org.
#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 email@example.com. 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 firstname.lastname@example.org (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.)