You’re Invited: Kelly’s Baby Shower
My god, imagine the shock and horror I got earlier.
I’m sure you’ve noticed that Kelly isn’t really the type who goes out with me all the time, even if she’s my nouveaux best friend.
She likes to keep things low-key and quiet because she always ends up as an object of sexual affection whenever we go out.
You’ve seen some of her photos with the public – she’s been raped, been gangbanged, been 69′ed… she’s done it all!
No wonder she’s been quiet for the past few weeks; little did I know that she was pregnant.
I only found out today….
When she gave birth.
We’re not talking about nests here darling. She’s allergic to anything that belongs to a farm. That’s why she moved to the city, with me.
This little orange bird flu-immuned ball-buster of a creature gave birth to 2 eggs on my
vintage 2001 Prada fox fur collar.
The gift registry is also available. Unfortunately, we’re on a time crunch; be sure to check the registry and shower pages often – we can’t wait to post our Tiffany & Co. registry! For now, we have Gump’s (I love Gumps) and Macy’s (bah! but still..)
If you can guess what* the offspring will be, Kelly and BryanBoy.com will send you a US$50 gift certificate at any online store of your choice, for example, Amazon.com.
*You have to be specific on what it is.
It can be a boy, a girl, a pair of rubber chicks, a new boyfriend, a new girlfriend, a dildo, a vibrator, a dog, a cat, a bird, a toy, a new handbag, a new pair of sunglasses, it can be anything! Just guess!
Only one entry per person is allowed. To join, simply email firstname.lastname@example.org with your best guess on what it is exactly inside those 2 eggs.
Deadline ends on Thursday, October 6, 2005, local (YOUR) time, wherever you may be in the world.
Also, please feel free to pass this message to anyone that you know. Publicity is always nice. The more publicity we have, the more gifts that we’ll get. We’re selfish and greedy. You know what I mean.
The winner will be announced on her baby shower, which is on the 7th and Kelly’s H-day (hatching day) is on the 8th.
Questions? Let me know!
Boy what a productive day today was.
I went to my pulmonologist/internal medicine doctor at around 10:00AM and it looks like I don’t have bronchitis. Instead, I have pharyngitis (also known as sore throat) and something else that I totally forgot about, like some sort of an allergic reaction. He prescribed me a ton of meds, like 4-5 pills that I need to take at least once a day – some are twice/thrice per day. He also told me to continue on my nasal spray for 6 months.
I seriously thought I have bronchitis. I mean, gawd, what was I thinking?
I guess I don’t want to die from a respiratory disease, you know? Can you imagine the look on my face, all gagging for one last hit of oxygen, kind of like those suffocation/drowning victims?
Anyway, let’s play pictionary shall we?
Here are pics taken at the hospital’s parking lot before going to the doctor.
Possibly the longest pictionary we had in ages eh?
Apres-doctor, my sisterette and moi went to McDonald’s Drive Thru for lunch. I haven’t had McDonald’s in AGES and I mean AGES – there’s no other way to celebrate the moment by having large fries, a quarter pounder and a large coke.
After McD’s, we parked in front of my aesthetician’s clinic to chow on my cheap yet chic meal.
More pictures from my aesthetician’s parking lot…
I realized I should try different poses in my pictionaries. Here’s yet another one. Isn’t it lovely? Hahahahahahahaha!
So yeah, after all that pictionary effort, I went to my aesthetician, had my usual glycopeel cleaning facial and a power peel/microdermabrasion session. I haven’t had such treatments in the past month – can you imagine how reckless I am with my skin? Ugh! Never again. No wonder I’ve been getting zits as of late.
Kate Moss: Fashion Victim?
Mark your calendars bitches and take note of V-Day as in Video Day, October 3, 2005.
Sky One (UK) will show the controversial footage of Kate Moss snorting everyone’s favourite drug, from royalty to rock stars, supermodels to actors, socialites to the beautiful ones – COCAINE!
Click here to read more.
More updates later. You know where to contact me.
P.S. Sunglasses and shoes by Yves Saint Laurent, bag by Chanel, "The Clash" t-shirt from People R People (Filipino version of Urban Outfitters), old jeans – by Earl Jeans, black jeweled necklace from Valentino, dog tag necklace from Chanel, clapper board necklace from Chanel, studded belt from Top Shop, No5 belt from Chanel, chain bracelet with pearl from Chanel.
A couple of friends and moi have been toying around the idea of buying one of those gorgeous Vertu phones.
I don’t care what y’all say – you can all burn in gold digging hell but one day, oh yes, on day, once I’ve found that good-looking special someone who will spoil me rotten till fruit flies feast on my internal organs, I’ll have him buy me an US$18,750.00 Vertu Yellow Gold mobile phone.
Unfortunately, I’m not flash-cashed enough to warrant such ostentatious appreciation for something a mere Nokia can do. I lose a handful of phones year after year after year and I simply cannot afford losing US$18,750 Vertu phones like candy. Afterall, I’d rather buy precious haute couture for the price of 4 Vertu Phones.
1) Trusty old (it’s so trusty that it’s already crusty) Nokia 6680
2) Fendi mirrored squirrel charm
3) Dior cellphone charm
4) Dior charm
5) Bottega Veneta crocodile leather charm (elephant)
Why settle for 1 charm when you can go all out? I don’t care if my phone weighs like a fuckin brick, it’s all about what’s hanging on there. I’m gonna buy more and more charms and keychains for the electronic device that has gotten me into all sorts of drunk dialling misdemeanor and social trouble for far too many times.
I need to buy 2 new phones, probably either the same model.. or a Moto Razr V3 in black. The Nokia 8800 looks tempting too but it’s too expensivo for a phone.
Bah! I’m always like this; I’m such a penny-pinching, cheap-ass bitch when it comes to spending on all other material items but I guiltlessly throw money away when it comes to designer handbags and clothes.
This post is sponsored by:
Hair Heaven and Hell
I went to the salon today, in spite of feeling very sick. I procrastinated long enough already. Looks like my bronchitis is back. I have the worst cough ever, the crappiest colds, a sore throat and slight fever. Let’s leave my health out of the question now. Save it for tomorrow when I go to the doctor.
I really don’t know whether or not my new hair style/colour is a disaster. All of the comments I received so far (especially the ones coming from my familia de horreur) are good.
As far as I’m concerned, I have always loved my locks my
African-American, African, Euro-Carribean, Carribean, etc. counterparts
woud be proud of – black, black and black.
You see, I don’t care about those who get their locks dyed like a dead hairy animal that Saga Furs would be proud of.
If people want to colour their hair a ridiculous shade of bubble gum pink or a fabulous shade of brown, let them be.
I think this post calls for a Bryanboy Life Archives Moment… haha!
Back to the past we go…
I lost my hair’s virginity to peroxide back when I was 15 or 16. The culprit: one of those cheap, tacky, blonde-in-a-bottle stuff. God knows where I found the courage, the balls and the guts to do it back then.
At that time, everyone must have thought of me as a freak. Even my ex-bf thought I was a freak.
We used to go into one of those fun photo booths that spit out a postcard with what your children will look like based on both of your facial features. They’re called "LoveLove Simulation". 2 people go in, the machine takes a photo, then you wait for like 30 seconds before it prints out funny cards that look like these.
According to the machine, if procreation was possible, our offpspring would look like these:
BTW, I covered my face and that of my ex. Trust me, we both look extremely hideous at that time.
As if I don’t look hideous these days.
Point is, the fact that I had faux blonde hair at one point of my entire life is sufficient enough to give me goosebumps the size of Canada.
That blonde moment is still giving me nightmares right until this day.
If you regret living the 80s, then I regret living 1998.
Life Archives Over.
Now… 7 years later, my hair looks like this.
My stylist at Franck Provost used some shade of brown as base and then a lighter shade for highlights.
It’s really hard to describe what my hair looks like NOW. You have got to see it in person before you make the judgment. The camera flash was prolly too bright, making my hair look awful.
When I look in the mirror, the colour isn’t that noticeable. My hair is still dark… very dark… oh yes… it’s just that there’s a slight difference.
Personally, I think it’s nice… well, nicer than my usual jet black (+ white strands here and there) locks. Even my familia de horreur thinks it’s nice. They thought it’s refreshing.
I dunno. *sigh*
I still have doubts at the back of my head though.
We’ll see how my friends will react when I go out over the weekend.
When I get better that is.
I’m sure I will.
Bryanboy Loves… and Random Cheesemax
#1 – Bryanboy loves people from Edgware, England UK, Stavanger, Norway, Miami, Florida (especially to the one who sent me an SMS/Text message earlier), Calgary, Alberta, Chicago, IL, Windsor Park Estate, Singapore, Nedlands, Western Australia, Tempe, NSW in Australia, Boca Raton, FL and finally, people from Studio City, CA! Bryanboy loves y’all bitches! Identify yourselves and tell me you love me.
#2 – Bryanboy loves Cosmo Magazine! Buy Cosmo Magazine’s (Philippines) October 2005 issue. I’m totally honored, honored, honored to be there. Buy this month’s issue now! I’m scanning the entire page once our maid wakes up and put it on my press archive. My scanner/printer isn’t plugged to the extension cord therefore I can’t turn it on and I have a phobia on plugging all things electrical. I took a picture using my camera though.
#3 – Bryanboy loves The Pepper Mill (by Pepper Teehankee) at the Philippine Star. I know my picture looks awful on the monitor cause I didn’t scan the thing but yeah, I think that picture is one of the best pictures I have – on print. I should try to practice that pose often. I shall name it the "little-miss-innocent-princes-takes-a-peek" look. Hahahaha!
#4 – The gold bracelet that I wore today is from Louis Vuitton. I bought it after seeing it at V Magazine (issue 37 – Fall 2005). It’s sooo ghetto fabulous. Wear it with a Birkin bag and it’s very Eurotrash! I love it. There’s a necklace version of it but I don’t think I want to get it.
#5 – I’m being talked about on this forum, Authentic Louis Vuitton Addicts.
Unfortunately, the powers that may be requires all sorts of private
information, including your first born child’s social security number,
date of birth, blood type and DNA/Paternity Test results because you
can’t figure out who the father of the chid was.
It’s fuckin 1:48AM now… I’ll update later. I got up at friggin 3:00PM yesterday because of this damn respiratory-related disease (bronchitis, cough, colds) that I have. Ughhh why can’t my health fuckin deteriorate at a different time. Trust me sweetheart, no more Dunhill Lights for me.
Believe it or not I haven’t had a cigarette since Wednesday around 4AM!!!!
You know where to contact me… email@example.com or +63-915-785-1492.
(as always. say it with me now… Bah-boosh! No, not Ba-bush like George Bush, but, Baboosh as in Baboosh-ka!)
P.S. This one’s courtesy of MadeinBrazil.Typepad.com and for all the girls and faggots out there.
Meet Mateus Verdelho.
Click here for pics… and even more pics.
Do you think he can make you cream your panties?
Y’all tell me when you want to go to Brazil and I’m buying first class plane tickets for myself pronto.
30 Bags in 30 Days
You have got to click on this link. That Fendi Spy Bag is giving me an orgasm. I should’ve picked one up at the Fendi Store over the weekend. God I’m such a bastard. I guess I shouldn’t feel bad cause I picked up a Goyard.
All these hot bags are up for grabs – Fendi Spy bag, Luella faux-Birkin, Hermes Kelly, Dolce & Gabbana python, Chloe Paddington, Vuitton Keepall, YSL canvas totes and more!
Bryanboy Loves Kids
Not in a sexual way, of course. I’m too young to be a pedo darling and the only ones I like are those who are waiting for Mother Morticia to pick them up on their deathbeds.
Speaking of deathbeds, I could barely get out of bed earlier. I thought I was dying.
Imagine waking up extremely late on a Wednesday, with a massive hangover, a sore throat, a runny nose and a horrible cough.
I think I have the flu… or something else. I’m definitely going to the docs tomorrow and see what they have to say.
Overall, I was completely wasted and the only thing that brightened up my day was this little present that I received via email, f
lesh fresh from Australia.
Isn’t he the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen?
Prima-facie evidence that you can never be too young to be fabulous!
Move over, Papa John!
Move over, Papa John cause we’ve got a new breed of sex tourists in town! Old, hairy white pensioners are out! Who knew that Angeles City (prostitute central) now attracts a ‘younger’ kind of crowd?
Meet Dan, a 23 year old from Simi Valley, California, who likes to bang 3 prostitutes at the same time. One can only imagine where his tongue and his cock goes to… STD-infested orifices that hundreds, if not thousands, of cocks have landed before. Eugh. How disgusting! I dunno who to feel sorry for. The girls who sell their souls and their dignity in exchange for cash, or the horny-as-hell-and-damned-proud-of-it white man who goes around waving his std’ed-pogo-stick.
Welcome to the land of the brown, the l’exotique and the natives!
Bryanboy Loves… and Random Cheesemax
#1 – Bryanboy loves people from New York City, NY (that includes a certain somebody from FHM USA… he knows who he is), Columbus and Toledo, OH, Osaka, Japan, Amstelveen, Holland, Salt Lake City, UT and of course people from Loves Park, IL and Guaynabo, Puerto Rico. Bryanboy loves y’all.
#2 – Many thanks to Jackie and Marco for taking care of me on Tuesday. Leslie, you gorgeous, gorgeous mama, sorry I didn’t make it to the club tonight. It would be horrible and extremely awful of me if I go out and infect each and every one of you with my third world germs. It was nice to chat with you the other night and I hope to see you again in the future, NYC, Manila, wherever it may be.
#3 – Exclusive Interview with Uncle Karl. Warning to my fellow countrymen: the Philippines is not even acknowledged by Dom Perignon on the location drop down menu. That’s how THIRD-WORLD we are. Click here to see the interview.
#4 – It’s bye bye Lacroix for Pucci and hello Matthew Williamson.
#5 – A big hello, hugs and kisses to my fan Sylvia, who lives in Milan, Italy. Lucky, lucky bitch for being soo near to the shows and easy access to all the stores etc. Bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch!
#6 – Milan Fashion Week is at full swing. Every gay boy’s favourite designer, Dolce & Gabbana’s 20th anniversary show is going to be broadcasted live on the internet on the 29th. Here’s an invite and the link to see the broadcast.
I probably won’t watch the show myself but to salute Domenico and Stefano for their contribution to every young gay man’s (from New York to Miami, London to Sydney, Milan and Singapore) wardrobe, I bought a pair of green suede and leather sneakers at Harvey Nichols over the weekend.
More updates (and photos) later. I’ll get to camwhore this time cause me and my sis are going to the MALL, the doctors, the salon and aestheticians!
You know where to contact me. firstname.lastname@example.org or +63-915-7851492.
P.S. Does anyone have a copy of the September 27th Philippine Star Newspaper? I’ve been told that my photo was there, on the lifestyle section. My oh my. If you have a copy and don’t mind scanning it, please email me with a photo so I can put it on my online library.
P.P.S.S. Bryanboy loves Cosmo Magazine Philippines. Be sure to buy a copy of the October Issue, out on the newstands now, cause I’m there!
Go Go Go Goyard!
I know y’all missed me. I’ll cut through the chaff and crash straight to certified, grade-AAAA Bryanboy Bragging Bonanza.
Trust me, they didn’t call the "dark ages" dark for nothing.
You see, like any self-respecting fashionvictimlabelwhorehomoerectuslabellusaddictus, yes, oh fucking yes, I did, at one point, carried the infamous black Prada nylon backpack. And yes, I even had the Loueey Vee version.
Times have changed, let there be light!
Blah blah bullshit.
All it took was a late night escapade to Harvey Nichols Hongky Tongk, some Engrish-speaking woman blaring "the store will close in 15 minutes, however, the fourth floor bar and restaurant will remain open till midnight" throughout the store’s sound system and 3 minutes to pose in front of the mirror whether or not the orange or the green suits my skin tone.
Meet my latest Goyard "acquisition". Everyone loves Goyard.
Well, I know I do.
I don’t know about you.
There is no other way to express your love for logo-a-gogo unless you’re carrying a Goyard.
This is the pinnacle, the apex, the apogee, the crest, the height, the meridian, the peak, the summit and the zenith of logo-a-gogo chic.
(See, I know how to fucking use the thesaurus you fuckin bitches.)
It’s the greatest bag ever… larger than a Louis Vuitton Speedy, smaller than a Keepall!
I’m telling you, had I spent longer than 10 minutes at Goyard, I would’ve declared myself bankrupt by now.
Those bright-coloured hardcore trunks can easily put most of my (often my mis-matched luggage of mine to shame.
Notice to the public: the blue suitcase/trunk is NOT a Prada. It’s a hand-made piece by Globe-Trotter, purveyors of fine luggage since 1897. Click here to read an online article about them.
Welcome to Cape Town, capital city of The Zara-rah Republic!
I’ve never had so much unfashionable fashion fun in my entire life.
You see, I’m not really a Zara fan. I saw a ton of Zara stores in the London back in my hey day and the only people that I see go inside their stores are mid-30s, not-so-young-but-still-have-that-yuppy-mentality women who have outgrown TopShop.
Since that damn gorgeous bitch with genes not even Bill and Melinda Gates can buy (who I really really love) started popping up on their ad campaigns, I changed my mind towards them and thought, hey, their stuff aren’t bad at all.
Jenni and moi spent around 30 minutes in Zara and boy oh boy I fell in love with a ton of their stuff. They have the chicest black coats ever, tons and tons and tons and tons of black jackets, colourful "house clothes/doomed for domestication" cotton hoodies with sequins and appliques.
I wanted to buy many, many, many pieces. Heck, I could’ve bought my entire fall/winter wardrobe right then and there.
The only thing that stopped me from doing so is the prevailing inner fashion victim "mother-knows-best" type of voice that told me "do you realy want your pretentious self seen by the staff at the Valentino boutique nearby, carrying shopping bags with the word Zara on them?"
I say screw what people think. I bought a black cape and an olive green hoodie. They’re fucking cheap-oh as in cheap-oh-my-god. You can probably buy a hundred or so of their coats at the same price of a J. Mendel fur shawl.
Imagine how mortified I was when I tried the cape where we stayed at.
I wore my Linda Farrow Gallery sunglasses and my Vivienne Westwood hat for some theatrical effect and presto – I look like a damn lampshade.
That little moment was priceless. It was history in the making.
Ok, maybe not.
Probably one of those "when good things happen to bad people" (or vice versa) moments.
It was soo funny that we were literally rolling like
bitches in heat dogs on the floor, laughing our fat asses off.
Nevertheless, I LOVE Zara. They’re just like Mango – Zara is my new best friend.
I can’t wait for the Zara store to open here. They better have those nice black ex-Gucci-esque coats.
And no, there’s no lesson to be learned here. I’m THE perfect customer. I DO NOT TRY THINGS ON at the STORE. I just buy em. The dressing room is my worst enemy. It’s like having a CT-scan/MRI scan except you can see yourself get defrauded by lighting and mirror magic.
We’re the Kids in America
Looking out a dirty old window, down below the cars in the city go rushing by… I sit here alone and I wonder why.
I came across this treasure chest of stimulating imagery while searching on google.
Friday night and everyone’s moving, I can feel the heat but it’s shooting heading down… I search for the beat in this dirty town.
I guess this is how people MY AGE do "it" in certain parts of the world.
Come on now everyone… sing with me!
Down town the young ones are going, down town the young ones are growing… we’re the kids in America… we’re the kids in America… everybody live for the music-go-round!!!!!!!!!
and don’t forget…
Bryanboy Loves… and Random Cheesemax
#1 – Bryanboy loves peope from Leeds, UK, Ridgewood, NY, Bridgeport, CT, Fairport, NY, Alajuela, Costa Rica, Alameda, CA, Beijing, China, Wallacia, NSW, Australia, Longjumeau, France and of course, Woodstock, GA. Bryanboy loves y’all – Identify yourselves bitches and say hi!
#2 – Thank you so much Jenni for the Fauchon chocolates. You really know the shortcut to a sheorhe-male’s heart.
#3 – Kelly is horny again!!!!!! See my best friend get 69′ed – for the first time.
#4 – All of the pictures that you see on today’s post are the only pictures on my camera. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to camwhore the entire weekend. More pictures will follow though… all I’m asking for is a little patience.
#5 – Bryanboy’s in da house… house of wax, that is, not house of Chanel.
God I need a haircut… and a facial.
As always, you know where to send your love. Email me, email@example.com or send me an SMS, +63-915-785-1492.
I’ve got 6 hours to go before I leave the house.
I’m jetting off to a place where being a label whore is de rigueur.
Look, I’m only fucking 16 years old. I’m allowed to wear bright colors, to display all my labels loud and proud.
I’m not a high almighty card-carrying member of the dead poets society. I’l save the Comme de Garcons, the Costume Nationals, the this and that when I turn friggin 45.
Seriously, no offense whatsoever but I’ll save the blacks, the whites, the neutrals, the tailoring and all that fashion hoola baloo to the intellectual fashionistas.
I’d rather celebrate my youth by being a full-blown label whore. The Dior, the Chanel, the Hermes, the Yves Saint Laurent, anything that has a label on it.
Heck, I evem got a silk bolero jacket from Hermes with the Hermes ribbon printed on it. Fabulous. Very bling bling.
Besides, discretion is for someone who is friggin old, wrinkled, botoxed, etc. In other words, anyone over 30 and above.
Of course they need friggin discretion. What would people think if they’re still a damn logo-a-gogo carrying senior citizen?
Anyway, I’m just enjoying it now because I’m young, I’m restless and I’m fucking carefree.
I am the epitome of consumerism. Without me, capitalism won’t exist.
I j’adore it when people look at me as if I’m a fucking walking billboard advertisement.
Make my fellow youth envious… jealous.
I’m sure, one day, when I hit 75, the only thing that will save my life is Zoran, Oscar de la Renta, a wheelchair, an oxygen tank and formaldedye.
Here’s suitcase number #1 (Globetrotter). Underneath all those clothes are dozens upon dozens of handbags and accessories.
I love Globetrotter. I think I’m definitely going collect more Globetrotter pieces. I first heard of them earlier this year from American Express Departures magazine. I LOVE them.
Here’s suitcase number #2 (Prada). Clothes, cosmetics, toiletries and sundries.
This suitcase contains clothes… a ton of Marc by Marc Jacobs, Gaultier, Neil Barrett, my oh-so-loyal LL. Bean toilety kit with my Obagi stuff, YSL and Dior sunglasses, Chanel box with goodies inside, etc
I hate it when my maid packs my stuff cause I want to oversee what is being packed etc. I’m a firm believer of overpacking… I like it whenever I have selection whenever I’m travelling… excess, excess, excess!
All this effort for a mere 2 day trip. I should be back on Monday early evening.
Big shout out too the Kangaroo Vogue forums. Bryanboy loves you all, and I’m honored to be the topic du jour of all the beautiful kangaroos on the discussion forums.
Who knew there’s a Vogue down where the underworld lives? I mean, I know there’s American Vogue, British Vogue (my favourite), Italian Vogue, French Vogue (Gotta love Carine).
As a closing note, my god, you Australian people have a really scary
scary socialites ex-Prime Minister’s wife. What on earth was she holding?
"The titans of the luxury business have a message for Sydney socialites such as Lady Sonia McMahon, who was recently photographed at a social function carrying a fake Hermes Birkin bag: that steal could cost you more than the real thing.
Should Lady Sonia ever take her fake Birkin to France, whose intellectual property laws are rigorously enforced , Australia’s former first lady could find herself detained at the airport, taken to the police station and fined thousands of dollars. Anyone who is considered part of a larger operation could go to jail."
Click here to read more.
Since I’m a label whore and I’m a certified AAAA fashion victim, the best thing about carrying a genuine Hermes Birkin bag is NOT the bag itself but the fucking bragging rights AND the envy that comes along with it.
I LOVE YOU ALL!
AND YES BRYANBOY LOVES AUSTRALIA, TOO!
I’ll update when I get back. You know where to contact me = +63-917-785-1492 or firstname.lastname@example.org.
Oh No Not Again!
Look what arrived via courier today.
My address isn’t even on the envelope. Just my name.
Must be "hand-delivered".
I will NOT get stressed by this.
I will SERIOUSLY NOT get stressed by this.
I have to pack for tomorrow’s shoot, I have to be beautiful, I have to starve myself by hook or by crook over the next 24 hours.