Ra Ra Rasputin Lover of Bryan da Kween
Moscow, Russia, here we go!
I’ve booked my plane tickets from Hong Kong to Moscow, roundtrip, business class (they don’t have first class on the plane). Apparently it’s only US$1,849 return with American Express. It’s soo cheap and it’s about the same price as the Dior boots I’ve been salivating on.
I figured this time I’ll stop at Hong Kong again to do some last minute major winter wonderland wardrobe shopping: – must visit Cavalli. Must visit the soon-to-open Harvey Nichols Hong Kong. Must visit Etro. Must visit Dior. Must visit Valentino. Must visit Fendi. Must visit I-T. Must visit IFC mall. Must visit Landmark. Ugh. Names, names, names, labels, labels, labels. My head is spinning thinking about the opportunities. I’m a fashion victim, label junkie and a lunatic.
Someone please hand me my xanax before I burst into flames.
Speaking of Russia, gone are the days where my tight Asian hoover vaccuum hole gets filled with Aryan sperm cells enough to lift off a thousand mixed raced cosmonauts into outer space, no matter how good, warm, moist, wet, mushy it feels inside.
After my HIV scare (click here to read more about it) and surviving it STD-free and HIV-negative, I promise this time I won’t have unsafe sex with the Russians. The 3-4 month waiting period was the worst mind fuck I ever had.
But then again, to think about it, I ended up being negative.
I should’ve enjoyed the moment and get fucked by as much as I can.
Why I’m a Fantastic Travel Buddy
So what are you waiting for? I can be a good travel buddy. Here are the reasons why I’m the best travel buddy. Expect fun, expect the unexpected. Just don’t expect Claire Daines being arrested for drug possession in Bangkok like in the movies. I’m not one of those Euro Trash Bohemian Junkies who will tell you to carry their bag for them when in reality it’s filled with kilos of heroin.
* I won’t be selfish when it comes to bathroom sink space
* I won’t bring excessive amounts of luggage
* I promise to keep my luggage under the 150 kilo mark, which is roughly about 230 pounds
* I never take any illegal substances with me
* I won’t argue with you when it comes to the remote control
* I won’t induce pillow fights
* I won’t let you stay awake when I couldn’t sleep
* I won’t wake you up when I get up earlier than you
* I won’t invite boys back to our room without your permission.
* I won’t come home 5AM drunk, drugged, fucked or drugfucked
* I promise to only limit myself to 2 hours in "getting ready" to go out (which usually takes me 3-4 hours minimum)
* I’ll let you shower first I won’t sing in the shower
* I won’t touch any of your toiletries or your makeup
* I usually treat people with alcohol at bars/clubs when I’m drunk
* I’m not a thieving bitch. That’s because I probably have more spending power than you.
* I’m nice and sweet. I’m not an asshole, no matter whatever you heard/read from the rumor mill
That’s a lot of effort on my part already. Oi!
Safe Sex Only Kids…
Seriously kids, stick with the condoms, the dental dams, the vagina condoms, the spermicide and everything. Just play it safe kiddies so you won’t catch anything. What would everyone think if you die from an STD? That you were a careless slut? Just imagine the backtalk going on while your coffin is being buried 6 feet under the ground.
"Oh I can’t believe he was such a dirty sex slut."
Which I’m not.
I haven’t had sex in like 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 months?
Heck, the next time I have sex, I’l even bring a magnifying glass and a flashlight with me and hell, I’ll do a CSI-type search on someone’s crotch to see if there are any infestations of crabs, syphillis and herpes before I even do the bad deed.
I don’t want to be like Katie Holmes.
Not even the thickest concealer, Dermablend, can hide facial volcanoes eruptus such as THAT.
And then there’s UNWANTED pregnancy. Screw having a sexually-transmitted disease. Let’s say you’re both clean. But, but, but, but, what if you ended up having an unwanted spawn? Think of the stretch marks you’ll get! A couple of stretch marks are already bad enough (trust me, I know), but an entire tummy full of it — there goes the slinky Eres bathing suits you’ve been lusting for….
Loves make the world go round. And there’s no other way to spread the love by sending it to my email account, firstname.lastname@example.org or making comments on my blog.
The London Pop Trash Kid sent me a really fantastic photoshop gift via MSN Messenger. Enjoy!
A reader from one of the world’s best cities sent me a nice little online Hallmark card. How sweet of you, thank you, thank you, thank you very much from the narcotics-filled upper arteries of my heart.
Now that I know where you work for, do you have gorgeous, hot, fit, tall-ish but not that tall, investment bankers or analyst officemates, in nice black suits, earning $250,000 or more per year? Let me know and I’ll give them a good pipe cleaning for free.
Bryanboy loves TR3NT of PinkistheNewBlog. Yes, yes, he ran out of TR3NT stickers but to hail his highness, I had to copy/paste a trent thingie majigie on my graphics program.
Bryanboy also loves people from Anchorage, Alaska (I don’t know the state abbreviation), people from Osaka, Japan, people from Finland, people from McKinney-Silver and people who use Sympatico as their ISP in Canada.
Identify yourselves you cockroaches by posting a comment or emailing me.
As always minions, you know where to contact me. email@example.com.
I’m gonna take my poop now. Call of nature babes.
It’s this 1 thing that’s got me trippin
It’s this 1 thing that’s got me trippin
Don’t bother emailing that dirty old man with the big forehead from CNN. I bet he’s chav scum when he’s off-air. Even if he already said hi live on TV, I’ll haven’t seen it.
I didn’t watch CNN today. So even if he *does* say hi on air, I’m here sitting on my bed, having some obesity-inducing vanilla ice cream and watching a film on HBO with Mandy Moore in it.
I kinda feel bad because you guys prolly bombarded him with emails. I take that back. They prolly don’t even read it in the first place. Well, screw it. I’ll just find another guy to prey on. Hah Bloody Hah.
And this time it won’t be an old fart like Max.
NOW IF ANY of his staff emails me with a date and time, GMT of course, as to when Max will say hi to me on air, then I’ll have a change of heart and watch CNN Today again.
But for now, lick my lipstick, Max Factor. I’m back to Dior Lip Gloss.
I’ll update with a longer post – chicken feed, lucifer and others.
STOP THE PRESS: ONE MORE BLOODY
HOUR OF CNN TODAY. I’ve been watching
CNN Today for the past 2 hours now it’s
not EVEN funny.
UGH. Well, they just said the CORRECT email address!
Email firstname.lastname@example.org and tell Max
Factor Foster to say hi to BryanBoy from the Philippines.
They’re live NOW as in LIVE folks!
Max, you hot big-foreheaded-cutie, is this you? I know you’re in London…
Tell me you love me Max. Hah!!!
Yes, Bryanboy was watching CNN just now… and waves *hello* to Max Foster.
Bah. While waiting for John & Jessica’s trash book recommendation from Amazon.com, I popped by my local bookstore yesterday night after consuming a 12 ounce steak at my mom’s birthday dinner party.
Yep folks, that’s right. 12 ounces of whatever steak. I had so much calories yesterday from the soup, from the salad, from the vegies, from the meat, from the skewered thingies I shared with my dad, the prawn thing I nibbled on etc.
All that calorification is enough to put
the entire population of Ethiopia to obesity.
As soon as I got home, I downed my benzos to knock me off. I don’t even want to think how I’m gonna digest the damn thing considering I was almost PUKING when I got out of the Steak House.
Anyway, there wasn’t anything to buy in the bookstore so I decided to stock up on a couple of trash mags. They’ve ran out of V. They’ve ran out of W. They’ve ran out of Wallpaper*. They’ve ran out of British Vogue, which is the only Vogue I like. The August Philippine Tatler ain’t out yet.
So I settled for Hello, In Touch, Star, American Vogue, American Elle and 2 books: The Hookup Handbook (A Single Girl’s Guide to Living It Up) and My Friend Leonard.
Don’t you just love it when Bryanboy is IN TOUCH with his lower middle class roots?
Calling Dr. Love
I love fan mail. I really do. I read and reply to them as many as possible when I have the time. That’s because I love each and everyone of you. Heck, if only I could give you sexual favours, I would. But you know I live in the third world and it pretty much involves a plane ride on seat 2A to meet up with y’all.
Yes, I’ve only had 4 long-term relationships/ex-boyfriends. Yes, I’ve slept with around 390 males from Reykjavik to Bangkok and Moscow to Bali, most of them recorded on my Smythson of Bond Street litte black book. And yes, I’ve been with 7 females.
However, may I request that you avoid asking me questions about love and relationships? Well, I don’t mind them. Seriously. But when I get advice ala Teen/YM Magazine, my head goes into a rush and it pretty much drives my mere 2 brain cells crazy.
On that note, meet Julia. She sent me the following email. Actually, that’s just one of it. The rest of it were pretty much "forwarded" emails between her and the guy. Take a peek at what she sent me. Julia, I hope you don’t mind. Why settle for one opinion (mine) when you can possibly have many?
So my dear blog readers, help this young ‘un out. You know you want to.
Julia my dear, here’s my advice: DITCH HIM. Stop talking to him. Get him out of your system. Have you not heard of the saying "purge, purge, purge"? You shouldn’t be the one quasi-begging guys to get serious with you, it should be the other way around. IMO, I think he’s just a mind fuck. Stop dealing with people who clearly don’t know what they want.
You know what I do with mind fucks? I flush them out of my system like I flush evian (I only use evian) when I douche.
Sorry if I come across as harsh but I think that’s the best advice I can give my dear.
Fluxe it! Whatever
Thursday nights at the Manila DJ Club at Fort Bonifacio, Global City. It’s right across shell and 7-11. Music by Spoonmao, Adrian Cuenca and guest DJs.
If you’re in the cesspit of the Third World, Manila, Philippines, please pop by tomorrow for some electro/pop/punk/rock/80s/kitsch fun. I’m going there tomorrow and I still don’t have an outfit!
When I went to Hong Kong, I discovered (and bought) a couple of pieces from a Japanese Young Designer called "Tatsuro Ito". He got this thing about customizing bags with patches from Charlie Brown/Snoopy Etc, add crystals and faux gems, etc. I bought his take on the good ol Birkin but sadly, I’ve used it once. I found no use for it because the straps are kind shoulder-lengthy and you know how I only like HAND bags. Shoulder bags are just too… erm… feminine.
This bag has 6 patches on it, crystals, a sequined applique. It’s made of gray, distressed, curduroy-like denim with houndstooth-like prints. The photos doesn’t do it justice, however it’s gorgeous. If I ever ue it again, I’ll have my paparazzi take pics of it in broad sunlight. It’s a bag that I promise only YOU will have. Ok, perhaps if you’re not in Asia. However, I’ve only seen one gal with a similar bag where I live. But nevertheless, there’s only one of this piece since each is customized. If you’re interested in buying it, I’ll sell it for US$750. Price is negotiable. Email email@example.com if you have questions. That’s just one item off my soon-to-open mini emporium of my old wares. ;)
Now you know why I could never get guys for myself. I’m soooo camp and gay! But seriously, I’m bisexual. Hah Bloody Hah.
P.S. Bryanboy loves people from Australia, Neiman Marcus, CloseLandArch and Louisville, KY!
Woohoo! I can now breathe oxygen again. Looks like they got my little parcel of love. I hope it goes to good use — and get sold on eBay. LOL. ;)
Click here to see the video.
Be sure to buy my little entry just in case it gets sold on eBay. Remember, it’s for charity! It’s my mom’s birthday today and I’m off to have dinner.
I wish people from the Philippines sent in their entries, too, but it seems I’m the only one from the third world. :(
Oh well. I’m starving.
Say a big pink hello to Max Foster.
He’s an anchor for CNN International, who is based in London. Despite him being almost balding, there’s something charismatic and CAMP with this guy when I was watching the TV earlier. And you know how I despise TV. I only watch CNN whenever I watch TV. I’m so over my couch potato phase. So to me, yeah, this moment was kinda special.
Y’all think he’s gay or not? Like most CNN imports, this charming, I-wish/don’t-mind-that-he-was-dirty-old-gay man came from the beeb (BBC). He does have a fugly photo too, fresh from the BBC website, circa 2004. Look at the awful face and imagine the look when he’s giving it to your shithole. Gawd, when I saw him on TV earlier, all I wanted to do is to smash my TV set, pull him out of the box, rip off that suit and see what kind of treasure awaits me.
He’s probably uncut. Oh well. whatever.
But yeah, I think whenever people from the beeb transfer to CNN, they somehow become cuter. That’s what "private funds" and "budget" does versus "public funds". More makeup, better clothes, plastic surgery….. hah! ;)
Penny Martin is God.
There is a GOD and her name is Penny. Screw nickles, dimes and pounds. Everyone get down on yer knees and hail the name "penny". Enough said.
Let’s go guy s-hopping now, shall we?
Admit it. If you use the internet and unless you are married (heck, even married people still hunt for shags on the side), chances are, you’ve probably created a profile at some website(s) looking for love, lust and well, lusting love and lovingly lust.
Like any internet geek such as yourself, I, one of the beautiful *vomit* ones, have all sorts of profiles EVERYWHERE. There’s one at myspace, friendster, outeverywhere, fridae, thingbox, gaydar and all sorts of places. Even at places where it involves an online translator where people speak french or russian.I believe in biodiversity and I think you have to put yourself out there. The world is a big, big place and you don’t want to miss opportunities.
Sadly, some of the opportunities I get are:
I’m at a loss of words when I saw that. Actually, not really. I’m used to it. If you’re a chink, chances are you’d probably be getting a ton of messages such as the one above.
What never ceases to amaze me tho is where the fucking hell do some of these "types" get the audacity to even think I’d go for them. I think perhaps just because I’m a chink they automatically have it programmed that I’d go for their hairy large buttocks. Can I say purge? Not that there’s something wrong with em, I mean, they’re humans too you know. But still. Gosh.
Fine. I promise I won’t be critical of other people.
Has it even occured to them that despite me being of the exotic kind, that I’d actually go for someone within MY age range? Or at least close to it? I give them A+ for Effort though. Seriously. It takes BALLS to message people. I think it comes with the ageing process.
Now don’t get me wrong, I have LOTS of friends and acquaintances with people coming from all sorts of ages, backgrounds and lifestyles. I do talk to people regardless of who/what/where/etc they are.
But sometimes… just sometimes….. well, let’s just say I kind of turn into Beyonce. Nasty Girl. That sort of thing.
Anyway. Next one on the line is…. Errm, Actually, this one more of a "confession-type" thingie. But you know what, I, Bryanboy, have no shame. He and his friends will most likely read this but fuck it.
For the longest time ever, I had this little only crush thing with a certain guy. Oh yes. For like over a year, I’ve checked his profile out probably like at least once a week. Or something. I thought he was cute. Well, he is kinda cute.
The way the profile system at OutEverywhere works is the fact that when you check someone’s profile out and vice-versa, the system leaves a "track" automatically, therefore notifying you that he/you had visited each other’s profile. But god, this guy must have thought I’m a stalker.
So after about a year or two of me checking his profile out, he FINALLY took notice and sent me a message. This was like way, way, way, way back ago.
I was gobsmacked when I got that message. Again, bukkake facial at its finest.
And you know what?
I let his message sit on my inbox for an ENTIRE MONTH because I just didn’t know what to say.
Do I seem "assey" to you, my blog readers?
Last time I’ve checked, I’m the epitome of nice. And sweet.
One month later, I decided to send him a reply once and for all when I moved on (and my little infatuation is over).
Guess what? I didn’t get a reply since. I think I scared him off. Hah bloody hah.
Well, aren’t Mormons come from like Utah? Bah.
Now you know why I’ll be perennially single.
There’s just something about me, oh god save me, that kind of um, either attracts… or scare… people off.
Believe it or not though, I’m shy when it comes to boys.
It is EXTREMELY rare for me to actually send someone **I KINDA LIKE** a message.
Yes, I’ve got no shame when it comes to most things. Seriously.
But when it comes to me sending random people I kind of fancy… erk… I just can’t do it.
Even in person. Oh yes. Even in person.
I guess I’m one of those passive-types.
If people (I don’t fancy, at least sexually) talk to me, which thankfully, some do, I think it’s fantastic.
But for me to come up to someone I like… that’s a different story.
I need balls dammit.
Oh just bloody go out there, my blog
reader, and pimp me out to someone.
Baboosh for now.
Just recovered from my recent weekend bender and it’s all living la normalite for me again from this point onwards. I also just finished — gasp — eating breakfast.
Saturday was fun! My little swimming party didn’t push thru because I left the house really late and got into the city by 7PM. Who the hell will parade in bathing suits in a hotel pool at that time of the night other than desperate, sex-starved, i’ll-pull-anyone-in-the-pool tourists?
There’s this hotel, New World Renaissance, that I usually stay at on whenever I’m having Saturday Night Fevers. I’m never the type of person who would get out of the club before the sun rises up. And since my parents forbid me to go home at 8 in the morning all looking fucked up, I would rather stay at hotels or at friend’s houses to recuperate.
Anyway, early Saturday night I went window shopping (Bottega, YSL, Gucci, Vuitton, Prada) and then to M Cafe, alone, while waiting for my friends to arrive. Kicked off my night with a light snack — foie gras with green apple tart, a lychee martini, a vodka red bull and a gin tonic before I get dressed.
While waiting for some of my friends to arrive, I rang up Hannah Matronic – the long lost "twin sister" I never had, that I recently "met" online. I thought it would be nice to meet her once and for all. And god, she’s like 4 years younger than me. She had her driver drop her off at my hotel, had a chat and showed her my little lip gloss collection. LOL.
Then Kiko Escora arrived, followed by Tina and Gian. We then went to Cuisine to have dinner. I settled for a salad and some more foie gras. This foie gras craving is the one responsible for me being fat. Ugh!
After Cuisine, we all went to the usual weekend spot, Embassy. I really need to start going to other new places. Each and every weekend everyone ends up at a Embajada one way or another. This Thursday I’ll definitely go to that other place, MDC/Manila DJ Club, where my friends are spinning/throwing yet another a la "Miss Shapes" party.
At La Embajada, Hannah and I hanged out and tak about all sorts of stuff. Heck, we even did some lesbian action just for the camera. Priceless!
Curious how the fuck does Bryanboy get drunk?
Life’s a bitch and we live in an alcoholic world.
We all left the club at around 5 or 6 or so in the morning and thought it would be fantastic to take some shots and play pictionary. Thanks June/Jun for the brilliant shots.
Post-partying, we all went back to the hotel and spent about 6 or 7 hours gossipping and chatting. Imsomnia galore at its finest. I slept for about 2 hours cause god damn Gian won’t stop waking me up. Hah! I checked out at about 4PM and Tina, Gian and Ignacio (just like the old days) went to Masas for some good ol Filipino food – food food food.
(Thanks, Ignacio Loyola, for the pics)
On a different note, I thought I’d let you in on my
TOP SECRET PROJECT.
You see, i-D Magazine, ShowStudio and Nick Knight had this little "Bring and Buy" project where people send in some of their outfits that they’ll sell for charity. I sent in my entry, an Issey Miyake hoodie back on July 21st. The deadline is today, July 25th. I checked the FedEx website and my parcel of love is now in London, ready for delivery today.
Here’s my little parcel of love:
I hope they like my entry. My entry is nothing compared some of the stuff they already receive. But hey, who knows eh? Anything for chariteeeeeeeee.
I’ll keep you guys posted later. As always, I love you all.
Welcome to the fantastic third world, Manila, Philippines!
5:02PM here and people are bugging me to take a bath and get ready.
Another colourful weekend coming up.
Hotel room – check
Outfit – check (Marc by Marc Jacobs)
Narcotics Anonymous – check
Benzos for come down – check
"Friends" – check
"Acquaintances" – check
Hot sex with a really cute guy – priceless.
There are a lot of things Bryanboy can buy. For everything else..
YOU CAN FUCK RIGHT OFF TO HELL.
I’ll update you on Late Saturday (US Time) or Sunday with pictures and class-A gossip.
Wish me luck! I love you, you, you, you and you. Each and everyone of you.
As always (and say it with me)