A Day of Nothingness
I don’t know what it is but I’m utterly homesick.
I was so homesick that I decided to go to the fuckin Philippine Embassy in Moscow just to see some of my fellow compatriots.
It seems as if I’m the only BROWN, EXOTIC and NATIVE person in the capital of the world’s largest country.
I haven’t met anyone whose ancestors belong to tribes with flat noses.
Anyway, I asked my driver to bring me to the Embassy.
I rang the bell and this wonderful and nice Filipino gentleman opened the door. I asked whether I can see the ambassador or not (THAT’S HOW THICK-FACED I AM – SAVE THE SLAP ON MY WRIST. I HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO DIPLOMATIC SKILLS).
He asked whether or not I have an appointment and I said no I don’t but it’s ok if I don’t see him/her because all I want to see are fellow Filipinos… something that will remind me of home.
He toured me around the consular section and there were 3 Russians on the queue waiting for their visas. I hope I made a good impression. I wore my Yves Saint Laurent Shirt, Hermes Belt, Hermes Down Parka, Gucci Jeans and my Birkin Bag.
When I went to the consular section, bam wham bam!
I FELT AT HOME!!!!
There like 4 Filipinos there – the gentleman (probably attache of some sort) who greeted me, another man, a woman (presumably his wife) and their daughter who is about 6 years old and crying ON TOP OF THE TABLE, throwing a bitch fit.
Yes, it’s home alright!
I mean, it’s not uncommon for Filipino workers to bring their noisy evil spawn to their workplace.
Heck, my dad used to bring me to his office back when I was a child and played PACMAN on his computer.
This was back in the dark ages.
I lingered around for about 5 minutes then *snap* *snap* *reality check* and told myself, alright, I didn’t pay good money to see some third world child crying on top of a table.
The gentleman was very, very nice.
What’s funny though is I asked whether or not the President is still at the APEC summit.
One of the guys ad his wife had NO CLUE where the president is… in fact, I had the impression they didn’t even know the President went to summit!
There you go… pure Filipino incompetence.
How very very very Filipino. I LOVE IT!!!!!!! It’s just like in Manila!!!!!
Yves Saint Laurent
After the Embassy, I went to a Russian bank to exchange traveller’s checks, followed by a quick trip to one of the shopping places. I settled for Yves Saint Laurent and bought a gorgeous cashmere turtleneck and some random knick-knacks.
More updates later! I love you all…
Muse by Yves Saint Laurent
I know I’m late on this one but I wanted to check your opinion.
I got this on my email a week ago and I find the bag utterly crap. Like the type that office workers, school teachers or bank tellers would wear. Or something.
Heck I even know some school teachers (not personally) who have better bags than this leather piece of shit.
(Sorry YSL… I **LOVE** you guys but I wouldn’t dare buy this bag.)
What do you think?
It’s like 9AM here in Moscow and I’m having breakfast at the hotel. I’m surrounded by bastard business men in suits… you know… the stereotypical men-in-black fuckers on a company expense account. Some are British, some are American, some are French
God… am I the only person around here who is normal?
Ok… maybe not. There’s a tourist couple wearing brown at 11 o’clock. Hahahaha!
I’ll update later. Promise.
You know where to contact me. Email firstname.lastname@example.org.
Winter’s at its full swing here in MOCKBA.
I’m telling you, it’s sooo fucking cold my balls are turning into the size of raisins it’s not even funny.
It’s been rather snowy today. It’s not even proper snow because it’s only like 0 or -1; it’s slush slush slush.
I met up with good ol’ Jane and her best friend Jane.
I learned something Russian today.
You have to make a wish if you’re a third person or sitting in between 2 people WITH the SAME name because it will become true.
That’s what I did.
No, I didn’t wish for a brand spanking new black crocodile Birkin bag with a clasp covered in pave diamonds.
We had dinner at this Italian place followed by dessert at this restaurant "Akademia" then we went to the Moscow version of Harvey Nichols/Saks/Joyce/Harrods: GUM Department Store.
I found 3 sweaters that I like – 2 cashmere ones from Marni and 1 blue + white + red plaid from McQueen.
Thank god their American Express terminal was DOWN otherwise I would have bought them (even if they’re like 30-60% overpriced).
I figured I’ll just buy them when I go to Paris… or Milan.
I need a chastity belt otherwise I will go there first thing tomorrow morning.
Who would have thought I’d spent my Saturday night completely WASTED?
(God my arms look fat on this photo)
Wasted in the sense where:
1) I didn’t have a strain of alcohol or illegal substances on my system
2) I didn’t go to a bar, night club or any public place where procreation is inevitable
3) I didn’t preen, pose, mince, dance or did any activity that results in weight loss
I had a nice little dinner by myself at my favourite MOCKBA haunt, the Vogue Cafe. The service is REALLY good. The coat check man still remembered me from last year. The pastries woman said hi. My waitress took really good care of me from start to finish. When she saw me hang my Dior East/West Flight bag on my chair, she gave me a mini-chair for my handbag. When she saw me whip out my Marlboro Ultra Lights cigarette, she quickly rushed to me with a lighter. It was comfort and service at its finest.
Anyway, I had a crab salad, veal tenderloin, some orange juice and 2 xanax pills.
All of my Russian friends were busy last night, i.e. some were still at work, some had prior engagements etc. In other words, yes, I was alone yesterday night.
I don’t mind it though; I’m sure they all have their lives and it would be rude of me to demand that I see them every single day when I’m gonna be here for the next 12 days.
I got back to the hotel by 7PM, slept at around 9PM and got up at 6AM.
I am sooo homesick. I have no idea why.
Travelling solo flight is definitely a mind-blowing experience. It makes you realize how alone you are in the world and how you miss things back home.
I have all the time in the world at the moment and I hate it.
At least my Russian sable fur hat is gorgeous.
Ignore my thunder thighs. I swear I’m not gonna eat carbs from now on.
I haven’t had a single grain of rice since I got here.
I miss my family, my home, my room (that feels like a fucking sauna, even with the airconditioning on).
I miss Filipino food.
I miss my maid, Eunice.
I miss my domestic, short-haired, breedless, cat, Pinkie.
I miss my dauchshund, Bruno.
I miss my crappy car and calling poor people to pay them US$10 to drive me around for an entire day because our family driver is soo unreliable.
I miss going out at night only to go home at around 9 in the morning, no questions asked from my familia de horreur.
I miss sashaying down the third world malls in my first world outfits with typical Filipino people thinking my Birkin bag is a working woman’s bag (i.e. bank tellers etc).
All I can say is, when the going gets tough, the tough gets Dee-yor.
I’m currently staying for free at my hotel in Moscow. I redeemed some of my Starwood Preferred Guest points. I know it’s not a suite but hey, I’ll take it if it’s for free. I’m transferring though to another hotel in a few days.
My room is soo messy and it’s my fault. I’ve got all my shit scattered all over the place.
It’s times like this that I realize, shit, I’m so lucky to have my own maid in the land of the brown, l’exotique and the natives.
NEVER underestimate a household help’s magic. Even if they have ruined a Lucien Pellat-Finet sweater in the past by getting in laundried instead of dry-cleaned.
I’ve been in Moscow now for 3 days and today is the first day I saw slush since I got here. I hope it’s a sign that it’s gonna snow soon, this way I’ll get to wear my Dior snowboots.
Bring on the fucking blizzard you mother nature you.
Time Magazine will probably name you as "Person of the Year" when it could have been ME you fucking bitch.
I paid VERY good money just to experience a fuckin blizzard.
If all you’re giving me is fuckin slush (i.e. green mango/white grape shake) that I could’ve bought at a restaurant in the Philippines, I should’ve just stayed at home, throw ice cubes in my blender and throw it in the air like glitter at a Studio 54 party.
Bryanboy Loves… and Random Cheesemax
#1 – Bryanboy loves people from Pittem, Belgium, Kingsthorpe, Queensland, Hartsdale, NY, Mobile, AL, Littleton, CO, Davis, CA, Lemon Grove, CA, Maryknoll, NY, Sunnyvale,CA, Austin, TX, Evanston, IL and of course, people from my home town, the national capital of the land of the brown, l’exotique and the natives, MANILA, PHILIPPINES!
#3 – Chloe Paddington bags are available at the Chloe Boutique in Beijing. Oh yes, there’s a couple in black, olive green and a maroon-like color.
#4- Louis Vuitton in Moscow is the place where you can get all your Limited Edition pieces. Boy, they have a shitload of limited editions over there and it’s not as expensive as what you think. In fact, most of the pieces there are the same price in Manila. I think it’s Louis Vuitton’s policy to have the same price everywhere else (except in local currency conversions).
#5 – Lots of love from all over the world. I know I said NO PHOTOSHOP but I guess I’ll make exceptions because I’m FUCKING homesick. Miami, Copenhagen and Paris.
(Sebastian darling, I know Copenhagen loves me but will YOU fuck me?)
(Say hello to Pablo Chester, Paris’ Black Diva. Loves it baby, loves it!)
#6 – If you’re in Manila, will you PLEASE, pretty PLEASE, buy a copy of this month’s Fudge Magazine with Harry Potter on the cover? I think I’m there and I need you to scan the pages where I’m on it. I’ll forever be indebted – I’ll give you sexual favours when I get back. I promise. Email me the scans.
I think that’s it. I’m meeting a few friends today, it’s Sunday and I hope to get decent pictures done later.
As always, you know where to contact me.
I’m homesick you fucking bitches!!!!
Email email@example.com or SMS my Moscow number, +7-926-437-6332.
I love you all.
Rollin’ With Mah Homies
It’s official. Moscow is indeed my second home. I love, love MOCKBA.
It’s soo full of the nouveaux riche it’s like finding long lost brothers and sisters, wearing their in-your-face-wealth-is-stealth clothes in an enormous lost and found area.
In fact, I feel very old money already.
If you think I’m bad, you have to see some of the Russians I’ve seen – they’re all fabulously dressed – everything has a fucking label on it. I, on the other hand, mix up "designer" with non-designer pieces; for instance, I wore my Missoni oversized cardigan + belt, Fendi sweater, Hermes belt, ZARA corduroy pants and Frye boots.
I went to Stoleshnikov Pereulok yesterday, a little brick road, home of Dior, Hermes, Vuitton et al and a ton of women (and some men, their husbands/sugar daddy) gave me the smile, the approving nod and the hi/hellos/where are you froms.
I think it’s because of my Birkin bag and my oh so fabulous chinchilla.
Courtesy of Reality_Chic, who said my Chinchilla picture reminds me of her.
When I went to the Hermes shop to take a look at their stock, this Russian woman had a Fendi bag filled with CRISP, cold, hard cash, complete with rubber bands. It was around 900,000 rubbles, which is roughly around US$31,000. You should’ve seen the look on my face when I saw that – it was the same face I had when Jane brought me shopping last year.
I met up with my Russian gal pal Jane again (I’ve known her for like a year yet it was only a few months back that I found out her Russian name is Evgenia/Eugenia). We went to her dad’s favourite Italian restaurant in Moscow, the Palazzo Ducale. It is one of Moscow’s poshest restaurants.
The food was scrumptious. I had a shrimp cocktail (generous, generous servings) and some fillet. Even the bellini was divine. Jane had a salad and risotto.
Jane’s been a complete gentlewoman to bring me there. We had a great table… in fact, it was so great that my brown Fendi logo-a-gogo v-neck matches the decor. Hah!
Apres-dinner, we had a little kiddie fun with her leftovers because her food was soooo black.
Err.. SHE had kiddie food fun.
After all, I’m the epitome of class, high-low-hi-whore society and glamour (as in G-L-A-M-O-U-R MAGAZINE).
It’s official. I now have emotional scars. I’m scarred for life!
After Palazzo Ducale, we had coffee at some coffee shop that’s quite trendy with the 20 and 30-something Moscow crowd. I forgot the name.
Jane had to go home after coffee and I met up with another old friend, Kate.
The Red Cap
I joined Kate, Nastya (who I called Nasty Nastya), another Kate (who left for St. Petersburg today) on a little "hen night" at Red Cap.
This is what I love about Moscow – it’s a city full of the unpredictable.
Who would have thought there’s actually a STRIP CLUB just for women?
Kate knows the manager there so I was able to get in for free, otherwise I would have paid US$100 for the entrance.
IT WAS QUITE OVERWHELMING TO BE HONEST! IT WAS SOOO SURREAL!!
IT’S LIKE, OH MY GOD, IT’S THE FIRST TIME TO BE IN A STRIP CLUB!
IT’S NOT EVEN LIKE A STRIP STRIP STRIP CLUB FILLED WITH DIRTY OLD PENSIONERS LOOKING FOR A SHAG… IT’S A STRIP CLUB FILLED WITH NEW-MONEYED RUSSIAN GIRLS, 18 – 30 YEARS OLD.
All these young girls actually pay a shitload of money only to be surrounded by a ton of STEROID-ANDROIDS (oh yes, the muscle mary to girl ratio was like 3 muscle marys for every girl/patroness).
I was laughing so hard inside when you hear things like "ooo you choose a guy for me", "who do you like best on the stage?", "she went to the bar to order a guy for her".
These girls pay like US$50 for 30 minutes of TALK time – yes – just talk… and hugs… and whatever.
God… these "hen" nights…
When those 3 girls ordered their guys and I told them it’s best for me to go home.
How old were the girls? 22, 18 and 20.
I on the other hand, the oldest of the bunch, chickened out and went home at 3:30AM.
THANK GOD THOSE STRIPPERS DON’T SPEAK ENGLISH.
AND SINCE MY FAMILY MEMBERS (ESPECIALLY MY PARENTS) ARE READING MY BLOG
NO, I DIDN’T TOUCH ANY OF THE STRIPPERS.
NO, I DIDN’T HAVE SEX WITH ANY OF THEM. GOD KNOWS WHERE THEY STICK THEIR POLES.
ALL I DID WAS SIT ON ONE CORNER OF A TABLE LOOKING AT THE ENTIRE PLACE BECAUSE IT WAS SOOO SURREAL.
Best of all I didn’t spend anything, not even a single cent, penny or rubble – Kate took care of EVERYTHING, including my 4 gin tonics and 2 red bulls.
The only thing I paid for is my cab fare back to the hotel.
Overall I had a jolly good time.
HANNAH MATRONIC, you should’ve come to Moscow. I know you like your muscle mary Filipino male models/C-list celebs without any money!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Wake up and smell the fresh air babe. You have to come here. THIS IS THE OFFICIAL HEADQUARTERS OF THE INTERNATIONAL ASSOCIATION OF YOUNG, UNDER-25, SUGAR MOMMYS/MATRONS-IN-TRAINING! I feel sorry for your brown Filipino ass celebrating thanksgiving in Middleofnowhere, NY state.
Don’t be depressed bitch. We’ll see each other in December.
(yes, there’s this nagging voice deep down inside that I DOOOOO miss home)
As always, you know where to contact me. Email firstname.lastname@example.org or SMS me at my new Russian mobile number, +7-926-437-6332.
Cruel, Cruel, Cruella
12:25AM and I just got back from the hotel. As soon as I’ve checked in at the hotel, I called my adorable friend Jane and we had dinner at NOA restaurant. She had to be somewhere by 9 so after dinner, I called another friend for couple of drinks and say my HIs and HELLOs.
It’s surprisingly warm for Moscow at this time of the year. I remember leaving Moscow exactly on this day last year and it was snowing; they sort of had a blizzard at that time.
Today however has been warm.
You know what they say – when it rains, it pours. When it pours, it’s too warm.
I shouldn’t have worn William (that’s HIS name) out – he sorta got wet. The powers of the Vuitton umbrella wasn’t enough to protect him from the wind/water. Oh well.
I don’t care what y’all think. When in Rome, do what the Romans do.
Before you forgot, this is MOCKBA we’re talking about, not Paris.
MOSCOW IS THE MOTHERLAND OF THE NOUVEAUX RICHE. NOBODY IN THIS WORLD CAN PERFECT THE ART OF BEING A NOUVEAUX THAN A RUSSIAN CAN!
Aeroflot completely revamped its business class; while they may not have the flat beds yet, their seats are quite comfortable and can fully tilt diagonally. Honestly, it’s the first time I’ve slept on a plane (usually those flat beds are a pest). It’s not even proper sleep – it’s one of those highly efficient DEEP though SHORT naps that make you feel well-rested.
The service is not bad – nobody helped me storing up my luggage on the overhead cabin, but when the food arrived, I’m telling you, the stewardess simply WON’T STOP FEEDING ME. Also, everyone is smiling one way or another. The cabin staff is polite. If you say “thank you”, they’ll say “welcome” or smile. They even won’t stop offering me drinks… and the other stewardess gave me my own bottle of mineral water – without me asking. I thought THAT was sweet.
Courses upon courses of food arrived – the enormous salmon appetizer, the salad with various green and cherry tomatoes (personally, I’m not a big fan of thousand island dressing), followed by soup (it wasn’t too bad; I was disappointed that it tasted as if it DID NOT come from a can), followed by main course – I had cod fish with vegetables.
There were 2 or 3 more courses left and I told the lady I’ll skip them because I’m full. It was some sort of dessert, followed by ice cream… and then your usual chocolates, cheese and whatsit. And if you’re still hungry, there’s a selection of sandwiches available.
I paid US$380 in excess luggage – a far cry from the US$800 or so I paid before. I should’ve fedexed some of the stuff I used in Beijing. Oh well, I should’ve known better. I’ll fedex some of my used and i-don’t-think-i-can-use-it-here clothes back to Manila when I have the time.
Being on the flight was terrible. It cemented the fact that I DO miss home. Those teeny pangs of loneliness are fucking killing me. More than half of the people probably wouldn’t understand a word of English other than “HELLO”.
If you think I’m a fashion victim, you should have seen the lady in front of me earlier on the Aeroflot Check-in Counter at the airport. That woman wore embroidered Maharishi-look alike pants, paired off with some huge brown and green fur jacket (she’s fat BTW) and her extra huge handbag looks like one of those Luella Bags, multiple by the size of ten and the colours scream 70s ACID PARTY – it was psychedelic galore – in FOX!!!!!!!!
There’s even a battalion of hideously-dressed people, I presume they’re atheletes cause they all wore this dirty white nylon jacket with the word “BULGARIA” on the back, the same tracksuit bottoms, etc. My god, some of them were sooo good looking. Fuck them though, I should practice what I preach to my friend Hannah Matronic: Good-looking guys are usually dirt poor. HAHAHAHAHAHAH! I’m so evil.
Anyway, the only thing I wore (or more less carried) with a logo is my Goyard traveling bag. Other than that, I wore a stripey lurex Marc by Marc Jacobs top, my Marc by Marc Jacobs jeans, my Frye boots, my Dior East/West Flight Bag, my Hermes down parka and my Goyard traveling bag.
BTW, My skin is sooo dry from the weather. My elbows and knees are turning white from the dry skin despite of lathering up Kiehls Crème de Corps thrice a day. I even wrapped my feet in petroleum jelly and some plastic bag + socks last night with hopes of them turning baby soft but bah…
Anyway, enough beauty dilemmas.
It better fucking snow this week in MOCKBA or else I’m taking the nonexistent Concorde back to the heartlands of the third world – the land of the brown, l’exotiqe and the natives. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. *kiddin*
I miss you all. I really do.
I’m going to a museum tomorrow morning. Promise. Funny how I haven’t been to a museum in Moscow ever when I spent over 2 weeks here last year!
As always, you know where to contact me. Email email@example.com or SMS +63-915-785-1492.
It’s 10:44PM here in Beijing and I’m packing my luggage to my next destination.
I bought 2 huge fur stoles, both foxes, one from Lagerfeld Gallery and one from a Chinese (unless I’m wrong) store called "White Collar".
Isn’t my new baby cute? It’s sooo huge it’s fucking gorgeous!
I strategically placed my RAZR phone there so you’ll have an idea of how big it is.
I don’t think I’ve got space on my luggage!!!!! FUCK!
What PETA doesn’t understand is the fact that if gorgeous creatures such as the one I bought aren’t turned into outfits (which, by the way, with proper care, will last for life – I’m doing them a favour), they will simply rot and turned into plant fertilizer after they die.
Look at those eyes!!! Shame they’re fuck. Sooo adorable though.
Here’s my money shot.
No more shots of similar nature. I’ll leave them to Helmut Newton, thank you very much. May his soul rest in peace.
Wanna know what I had for dinner?
Something that costs around US$1.80 from 7-11.
I know it looks awful but I was starving! It was delicious though.
Time-wise, room service is just as bad as going to a restaurant… I didn’t want to wait!!!
More updates later. Or tomorrow.
I love you all!
SEND ME TEXT MESSAGES YOU FOOLS! I AM SO FUCKING LONELY IT’S NOT EVEN FUNNY!
P.S. THIS MESSAGE GOES OUT TO ALL ANTI-FUR PEOPLE OUT THERE.
I WOULD RATHER BE CREMATED ALIVE WITH MY ASHES THROWN OUT ON THE SLOPES OF GSTAAD THAN WEAR SOMETHING LIKE
Don’t worry though – it’s just a personal opinion. you could wear North Face for all I care and I’ll still love you.
I’m THAT nice.
The Great Fall of China
I finally found the cure to depression.
2 xanax pills, Badger Sleep Balm, a night’s worth of sleep, a 40+ year old man/driver (who I think should be a photographer instead because he took good pictures) and a car.
Let me tell you this: BEIJING IS FUCKING BREATHTAKING.
And I mean BREATHTAKING.
The traffic jams and the travel time to go from one place to another is WORTH IT.
I slept at around 10PM last night, got up at fuckin 4AM (then again at 7AM) and I was out of the hotel by 9.
Went straight to the Great Wall of China (Badaling) and boy oh boy, I was the most gorgeous and best-dressed person on the wall.
(Yep, that’s a Starbucks Americano right there)
As any tourist spot in the world, there were HORDES and HORDES of tourists and I know this goes without saying, they all look fucking hideous. H-I-D-E-O-U-S. Hahahahahahahaha!
(Hey, don’t get me wrong. I LOVE tourists. A TON of them (particularly the Japanese, the Americans and the Spanish… who arrived via tour bus) took pictures of me. Man, if I got a dollar every time someone asked a photograph of me on the wall I’d be FUCKING rich (and on the top 10 of the Forbes’ list) by now.
I know any sane person will walk that gigantic brick architectural wonder with a pair of sneakers but come fucking on, it’s always nice to glam it up for all those photo ops.
I want my grandchildren (my adopted spawns’ offspring) to see pictures of me up the wall and say "my fabulous grandfather looked so American Vogue".
God I love the ego boost from all the stares I got earlier. Even those white tourists (a ton of Spaniards and Americans) took pictures of me because I’m SOOOO fucking beautiful.
I even rode this cute huge animal. It’s kinda like a horse but like it has these 2 weird mounds on its back. I forgot what they’re called. I see these whenever I watch the Discovery Channel and these are like all over the place in exotic places like Egypt or like Mongolia or whatever.
Apres Great Wall, I asked my driver to bring me to the Forbidden City.
It’s ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL.
I sashayed and powerminced its massive brick roads as if I’m a coked-up supermodel on the runway during New York Fashion Week whilst listening to my Hotel Costes 8 album on my ipod.
I’m ON A FUCKING ROLL!
I’m definitely coming back to Beijing… 36 hours is simply NOT enough. I’ll create a photo album (for more pictures) on this blog when I have the spare time.
I love you all! You know where to contact me. Email firstname.lastname@example.org or SMS +63-915-785-1492.
P.S. I know I owe you a big random cheesemax. I’ll do one as soon as I get to Moscow. Love ya all!