Typical Sunday late nighter here. I’m bored and I’ve got nothing to do. Blondes such as myself have to use moments of loneliness to exercise our intellect. Thought I’d create some friction using my mere 2 brain cells and purge whatever is left in my head.
Bryanboy loves TheBosh. Read my interview here.
I also created a MySpace profile after being bombarded with requests. Add me if you love me. www.myspace.com/bryanboy.
(BRB – I gotta take a poo)
Back. Not a lot in there.
Say hi to my friends at the LunchBox. Apparently, I’m the talk of the town where people with eating disorders gather around in a circle and purge their soggy biscuits in a synchronized orgy. Some bimbo pretended to buy an LV bag and used my photos on there. One of the members had impressive 007 skills and found her way to my blog. Hilarious.
Click here for the discussion thread. Registration required to read the spectacle. I love fat fans. These bitches are lucky. For years I’ve *forced* myself to develop an eating disorder but I simply can’t resist food. One day when I lose my anorexic-wannabe figure, you’ll find me in that place.
Thought I’d mention, my fat ass just finished an entire bowl of microwaved pasta and a can of coke. Insomniac/drug addict food. I really should switch to rabbit food soon. Less calories, less trips to the magic white bowl that flushes.
I’m off to see my doctor later this morning. I stopped taking my bronchitis meds cause they gave me palpitations. Even 2 grams of cocaine don’t do me shit as far as I remember. But these meds, I’m telling you, it feels like as if I’ve got some tribal drumbeaters shoved deep in my chest.
I haven’t stopped smoking. I’ve cut back though. Down to half a pack per day. Except on weekends. Hah. In fact, I haven’t smoked a cigarette from 2PM on Saturday until I got up yesterday.
Speaking of vices, I thought I’d share an old story from the Bryanboy Life Archives. I still haven’t disposed these cock drugs so if you know anyone whose got a problem getting their pecker up, let me know.
A few months ago, while hopping from one drugstore to another to get Seroxat & Xanax to no avail (it’s pretty much out of stock everywhere. too many insane people in this city I guess), I came across a newly-opened pharmacy in town who was willing to dispense pretty much anything they have – I was able to get a month’s supply of Seroxat without prescription despite leaving mine at home. All it took was me filling out this form asking for my shrink’s name, phone number and hospital. I happily obliged.
Once I had my insanity pills in my hand, I suddenly got an orgasm: my pill-buying experience was effortless! If you do the math correctly, why not, you know, buy other pills… I then had a *good* panic attack. Ok. Which ones should I buy?
I quickly channeled my inner Pete Doherty-slash-Internet Geek and immediately thought of the tens thousands of spam I get in my email accounts on a daily basis. I mean, surely if they promote it by spam, it must be good — too good to be true.
It took me about a minute to think of what I’m gonna get. Being the novice at prescriptions, trust me darling, I’ve only done streetwear for years, I somewhat had a hard time calculating — don’t blame me, I only have 2 brain cells.
Ambien? sleeping aid. No.
Phentermine? diet pills. No.
Oxycontin? narcotics anonymous pain killers. No.
Viagra? cock drug. I still have the libido of a 16 year old, thank you very much. But still, I’m a botom bitch, so even if I had a 26-inch hard, throbbing cock, it would be useless cause I take it up the shithole. Well, after my SSRIs, that’s a different story, anyway, so, no, mot definitely Not.
And then it suddenly occured to me — Cialis.
That’s right. What the hell is Cialis? I mean,
it starts with the letter C, like Chanel, so
surely it can’t be that bad, right?
I sashayed my way back to the counter, flashing the counter girl with my biggest smile, giving her high voltage "I always get what I want" attitude and told her I want 10 pills of Cialis.
That’s right. 10 pills. Surely it can’t be that bad and I could easily dispose it if I didn’t want it in the first place.
A couple of seconds later, she came back with 8 pills. Unfortunately they were out of stock. I paid her in cash, about US$110 for all 8 pills.
Like a fashion victim coming out of an
Hermes store, I quickly opened one of
the boxes when I got inside the car and
then reality hit me. Not in my buttocks.
But in my balls.
One look at the insert and at the back of the box and it said "Indication: Treatment of Erectile Dysfunction".
My god — I bet everyone at the pharmacy were laughing their asses off as soon as I got out of the store.
I swear to god, never again I’ll go to that pharmacy. I don’t have the face to show after this whole hoola baloo.
And never again I’ll touch prescription. Like what I said before, sober is the best way to go.
And vodka red bulls.
Memories eh? They’re nice to have.
Lesson learned: don’t buy drugs if you don’t
know what they are.
I had to learn it the
hard blonde way.
So again, if you know anyone who needs this cock drug, let me know.
BTW, here are more pics of my new Balenciaga bag as requested by one of my readers. I added a watermark so those bitches can’t use pics and pretend they bought shit. As my friend Gian said, we can smell poverty from afar.
Enjoy! I’ll use my bag later when I go to my pulmonologist.
P.S. Infatuation should be removed in the dictionary. You’re in, you’re fat, you’re uation, which is a shortcut for ovulation. In other words, infatuation SUCKS.
P.P.S.S. I like you. No matter what they say.
P.P.P.S.S.S. Speaking of like, when are you getting me a 26-karat ring ala Paris Squared? It doesn’t have to be a diamond you know, you can start with Cubic Zirconia. That’s fine coz we all know diamonds don’t last forever. CZs on the other hand lasts as long as we both enjoy. At least they’re disposable. You know who you are.
P.P.P.P.S.S.S.S. For the love of god already, please email me and tell me you love me. firstname.lastname@example.org. Text messages/SMS can be sent to +63-915-785-1492.
It’ Sunday, early early morning and I just got up about an hour ago. I pretty much spent my entire Saturday, sleeping. Entire day gone to waste. I got home at around 1 or 2PM yesterday. I can’t for the life of god, exactly remember as I didn’t pay attention to the time. Anyhoo, I’m feasting on a bar of cadbury dairy milk because I have a sugar craving. No wonder I’m getting fat.
Onto the juicy bits, shall we?
My designer buddy Gian and I checked in at Linden Suites on Friday afternoon because it was the same day as his overhyped/well-promoted/much anticipated fashion show.
That’s a Gian Romano tank top I’m wearing ova there, paired off with gray Neil Barrett jeans and a Dior Homme jacket. Anyway, Gian’s been working on his collection for god, 4-5 months, after he did his internship with As Four in NYC.
To be honest, I haven’t had the chance to take photos of the clothes/models on the runway because everything was sooo fast. I thought the menswear bit are much much better, and stronger than the womenswear, particularly the jackets. My favourite piece has got to be this black women’s biker-type jacket etc. It’s got such good construction and tailoring.
I saw some of my old-time, the usual, model friends (Razel, Ria, Amy) backstage:
I’ll probably post pictures of the collection once it’s out on the papers. Overall I think it was a hit. Congrats Gian for the good work – I hope everything sells out so you’ll have the dough for our little trip this fall. ;)
After the show, we all went back to the hotel to chill-out, change outfits and relax. We went to Cafeteria for a quick meal before going to Embassy, ugh, as usual. Everyone, for some reason, ends up at Embassy one way or another.
Saw quite a few familiar faces and a couple of new ones. It’s all good. I even had a girl come up to me telling me she reads my blog; I thought that was sweet. I was sooo drunk (and well, whatever) that night nothing registers on my mind anymore. But yes, I thought you were fun — so please, when you can, email me to say hi. ;)
There was even this really really cute short midget-type guy who was behind me in the queue on the toilets. I forgot his name. I thought he had nice teeth.
And I thought he was sweet because after using the toilets, he came up to me to hand back some rolled paper note I left at the toilet. Not that it mattered anyway, it was less than $2! LOL.
And then there’s this couple, Victor and Jenn. Victor is one of those male models that Gian used for the show. That’s right my friends, "male model".
I’m probably gonna get flack for this but seriously, what is the first thing that comes to your mind whenever you hear the term "male model"? In my case it’s not even zoolander.
It’s like whenever I hear that term, I get instant
hallucinations… visions… mental images of tall,
gigantic steroid-taking, gym-bunnying, rock-hard
abs, ogres who take off (and of course, wear)
their clothes, all in the name of "male beauty",
a concept that I kind of don’t understand.
I’m sure you all know the stereotypes — the ones who would use their bodies to befriend, blackmail and sleep with any faggot booking agent, designer, scout, photographer, PR person, society matron, industry fanatics, whatever, just to get some work. And since their careers don’t last too long, they all end up being hiv-infected prostitutes, waiters, failed actors, or worse, porn stars.
I dunno. I just find them kind of intimidating in a way. Big bodies and all. Ugh! Or maybe I’m just used to hanging out and seeing girl models. Either way, whatever. It’s just me being judgmental.
But Victor and his girlfriend were nice. We had small chats here and there and Victor was kind of suggesting that I get a hobby of some sort. Well, my blog is my hobby and I kinda like to shop. Does that count? Hahaha. I didn’t know how to answer that one to be honest.
And fuck the gym. Oh yes, fuck the gym.
I kinda had a fight with Gian because I was too fucked up in the hotel. He wanted to sleep that bad (after clubbing/nose powdering) but being the insomniac that I am, I stayed up all day packing my stuff and being all noisy etc.
And then there was the little drama with Razel. Oh well.
Anyhoo, my driver arrived late, something like 12 or whatever at the hotel, then we dropped Gian off at home, then went all the way down south to drop Jenn and Victor home. Had another trip at McDonald’s — simply couldn’t resist having a nice, good ol Big Mac after all that crap.
I hope I’ll patch things up with Gian. Soon. Otherwise, I’ll just confine to my newly purchased Balenciaga bag for now — Michael Salientes, you are **such** a bad influence.
Baboosh for now.