- Fashion Blog
6:07 am

Au Revoir Paris, Privet MOCKBA!

14/09/2005, Uncategorized

Au Revoir Paris, Privet MOCKBA!

I believe that everything happens for a reason. Call me crazy if you want but I also believe in "signs".

If something is meant for me, then it really is meant for me.

The universe will drop subtle hints and give me signs so I’ll make the right decision.

Otherwise I wouldn’t be standing wherever I’m standing right now… with no regrets whatsoever about my life.

How insightful eh?

On that note, look at what I got in the mail on my weekly FedEx shipment from my office.


Isn’t it a sign?

A sign for me to go to where people "sing ra-ra-rasputin, lover of bryan the queen" and wear my new Hermes parka?


There are no more 1-bedroom suites left at Hotel Costes, Hotel Bel-Ami and Hotel Ritz at the time when I want to go to Paris so why even bother. There’s no more availability even at cheap but chic Hotel Pershing Hall, a hotel recommended by one of my acquaintances in Londres.

Isn’t that a sign too?

It’s gonna be Fashion week at the world’s fashion capital for god’s sake, not to mention the lack of time for me to get a Schengen Visa. 3 weeks left… oi!

If Monsieur Jacques Chirac or HE Ambassador Gérard CHESNEL personally invites my third world ass to spend my money in Paris, closed the Catacombs and provide a bed in the middle of all those bones so I can sleep at night (I’ll even pay for the bed!), then perhaps I’ll change my mind and reconsider.


But for now, it’s going to be au revoir Louis Vuitton event and Zdrastvuite MOCKBA for me.

I will have to make that dreaded phone call to LV’s brand manager later today, apologize and decline her invitation.

My god, this is going to be worse than breaking up with a guy.

I’m kinda heart-broken and I’m sure it will pass.

Afterall, the mental picture of my cute Russian friends teaching me how to snowboard is already giving me an orgasm.

I think I’m gonna bid goodbye to the LV invite in person. I’m gonna drag my Yves Saint Laurent boots (in my little walk of shame) to Vuitton later today anyway because she told me to pick up my invites for the Moon Cake Festival/Event (?). I might even comfort myself by going shopping (if there’s something new) and tip toe my way into the retail therapy waters.

I reserved a maroon/plum-coloured velvet scarf and I’ll purchase it today along with whatever fancies my eye.

Ooooooooooo I hate myself.

Bryanboy Loves and Random Cheesemax

#1 – Bryanboy loves people from Piscataway, NJ, Long Beach, CA, Haag, Germany, Oberlin, OH, Las Vegas, NV, Eklanda, Sweden, Mountainville, NY and Tacoma, WA. Big hugs and kisses from the fabulous third world y’all. Identify yourselves bitches by posting a comment on my blog.

#2 – It’s been a while since I posted proper (and decent) photos of myself. I’ll make sure my paparazzo takes a ton of pics later today when I go out. My best friend Kelly is back from hibernation and my Birkin bag needs major mileage.

#3 – Big hello to all my fans in Saudi Arabia. Thanks for the text messages. I love you all!

#4 – Identify yourself mystery caller! I received a call from an unidentified dialing object but hanged up before I answered.

#5 – Yeah, as if this is new. Hello, this blonde bitch has been feasting on mussels and flaps since god knows when.


As always, send your messages of love and hate to Text messages (and calls – if the weather permits) are also accepted at +63-915-785-1492.

I love you all!


P.S. Sing with me… 1, 2, 3. Ra Ra Rasputin Lover of Bryan the Kween… there was a Vuitton invite that really was gone. Ra Ra Rasputin, Bryan’s the third world love machine, it was shame how he carried on.

5:01 am

Paris Calling…

13/09/2005, Travel

Paris Calling


I don’t know. I really don’t know what to think anymore.

Did you know that I had an anxiety attack about 3 hours ago?

I had some chest and left shoulder blade pain plus a feeling of "stuffiness" in my throat and my nose. I felt like I was being choked slowly. It went on and off for like an hour.

BTW, I stopped taking Seroxat cold turkey about three weeks ago because I simply can’t be bothered. It’s hard enough to remember that you gotta take one pill a day. I’ve also ran out of Rivotril… and Xanax, as always.

I’ve got no meds left because I haven’t gone to the shrink in AGES!!!!! Gotta ask for another prescription.

Fuck, I even haven’t had a facial in the longest time.

What the fuck is wrong with me these days?

Anyway, I thought I was gonna die earlier. I went to my mom’s room telling her I’m not feeling well and she shrugged me off, instructing me to lie down and relax. She also told me that it’s my fault anyway because I’ve been smoking far too many cigarettes.

The only thing that is comforting me now is the idea of going to either Paris or Russia this winter and then spend New Year’s Eve in Boracay.

Oh well.

I’m the biggest procrastinator ever. If ever I’m going to Paris, I’ll leave earlier than October 10th, probably like October 5… and then stay for a week.

And it’s already September 13.

If I’m not mistaken, the French Embassy needs at least 3 weeks to process a visa.

I don’t think I’m gonna make it by then.

But I do want to go to the friggin LV Store Opening thing!


"I’m 20 21 22 23 years old and I can’t go to the mall."

Sounds familiar? My BFFsaid that whilst washing the dishes at The Simpe Life 1.

In the event that I don’t make it to Paris, feel free to keep these pictures as souvenirs.

It’s the thought that counts.





1:55 am

Louis Vuitton, Decision-Making

13/09/2005, Uncategorized

Louis Vuitton

Oh dear. I had serious palpitations earlier.

(image courtesy of, LVMH)

Louis Vuitton will close Paris Fashion Week with a party to publicise its biggest store yet, opening on the Champs-Elysées on 10 October for a select clientele. A hundred "VICs" (very important clients) suspected of spending up to $200,000 a year on the luxury brand have been invited to mingle with celebrities for a preview of the store and the chance to buy limited-edition items. Sharon Stone, Serena Williams and Uma Thurman are expected to attend the event, which will comprise dinner and a visit to Vuitton’s museum in Asniéres. The opening coincides with the launch of Louis Vuitton’s online store. (26 August, 2005)

I won’t divulge anything as of yet… but… is it France or Russia this winter?

a) France: rush to the French Embassy PRONTO to apply for a tourist visa (funny how I talked about the damn visa thing yesterday), go to the travel agent, book business class airline tickets to Paris for only a 1-week stay, try to get a decent hotel suite (because of the fact that it’s fashion week, rooms at the top hotels are scarce), deprive myself of shopping, dining, going out, etc for an ENTIRE MONTH otherwise it would be no serious shopping (other than food, booze and presents) for me in Paris…

- MIGHT be able to go to LV’s hottest ticket this year (take note of the MIGHTY word MIGHT)
- COULD BE a once in a lifetime opportunity. Well, at least for now.
- Uma Thurman. OH. MY. GOD.

- 1-week stay only. my parents are gonna flip out cause it’s only last month that I left.
- can’t go all out on shopping (I shouldn’t have gone to HK!!!!!!!) cause last month’s bills haven’t even arrived yet!
- what’s a trip to Paris without spending big buckeroos at Louis Vuitton. Loulou de la Falaise. Colette. Hermes. Dior. Chanel?
- it would be very sad to come home empty-handed (like that would ever happen, knowing me, but still…)
- winter outfits gone to waste because of warm, tank top + cashmere cardigan, October weather



b) Russia: let this once in a lifetime opportunity pass, sulk for several months but revel in caviar, blinis, vodka, gorgeous Russian eye candy during hardcore winter wonderland because I know the fall/winter outfits that I bought on my recent shopping expedition (including my precious Fendi and Hermes down jacket) won’t go to waste… but I have to wait until Nov 17 to make that happen.

- no rush, no stress
- my hotel is FREE for 12 days in Moscow because I’ve racked up over 140,000 points on my Starwood Preferred Guest account. 10,000 points = 1 free night at the Moscow Sheraton.
- caviar, blinis, vodka
- pure winter wonderland escapade
- I’ll get to see my Russian friends whom I haven’t seen since last year
- I’ll get to use my Dior snow boots, Fendi, my furs, my Hermes down jacket
- my Russian friends can finally teach me snowboarding (I’m REALLY LOOKING FORWARD TO THIS)
- I’ll get to visit North Russia where nuclear submarines are at
- very litte shopping (not set in stone cause I’ll be on a 1-day stopover in HK for last minute necessity buying) which leaves me more opportunities for next year, i.e. NYC on either Jan/Feb or Mar.

- MIGHT miss LV’s hottest ticket this year
- COULD ONLY BE a once in a lifetime opportunity. Well, at least for now.
- Uma Thurman. OH. MY. GOD.


As I’ve said, I’m not divulging any more details unless I get my act together.

And before you start bombarding me with messages of temptation of doing BOTH, no, it can’t be both this year.

Some of us have other important things to do, such as stay within the allocated "number of days Bryan is gone away from home" quota.

God I hate decision-making.

My head is spinning. I think I need a tranquilizer of some sort, like, pronto.

I just remembered that I need to lick my parents’ ass so I can move out NEXT MONTH. Enough with procrastinating.

That’s right. I need to work on my plan on how I’m gonna get my familia de horreur AKA parentals to say:

"Yes, Bryan, we won’t have any hard feelings if you move out of the infamous birdcage. Spread your wings dear son and fly. Fly! Fly! Fly to your new pad."


With the Paris option, how am I are they going to cope?

My parentals will go straight to Asian hospital for cardiac arrest if I told them I want to move out in about 2-3 weeks AND go to Paris afterwards.


I’ll update you guys in a couple of hours. I’m 12 hours overdue for an article I’m writing. I need to finish it first before I start doing my cheesemax.

Be sure to visit later.

By the meantime, email me bitches!


5:51 am

Model Citizen of the Land of the Brown, the L’exotique and the Natives

12/09/2005, Current Affairs

Model Citizen

I thought I’d do one last whinge before I get some serious skin-tightening beauty sleep on my Pratesi-covered mattresses.

Ever since I started this blog, I’ve received far too many emails from you, my dear readers, on how I should come visit you for some serious R & R: reckless recreation.

We all know that geography is no boundary when it comes to my fans. Who knew there’s internet access in friggin Zimbabwe? Who knew I have fans who live in Ecuador? Even folks from Winnipeg, Alberta and Littleton, Colorado, they’re all feeding themselves with verbal diarrhea coming from my little third world rectum.

As much as I’d want to visit each and every one of you, one should realize that 99% of all the countries (and that includes friggin Iraq and Afghanistan) in the world show their disgust every time they see this snot-colored piece of document that we, citizens of the brown, the l’exotique and the natives, are born with.


That’s right bitches.

Immigration officials, visa officers, diplomats and consular services representatives wordwide frown upon anyone who holds the above-pictured passport because of all the bad deeds our ancestors did, dating back when the passport got invented.

You probably won’t believe the number of citizens of this third world hell hole cesspit would do anything just to get out of the country PERMANENTLY and ILLEGALY.

And it’s fucking true.

All the stereotypes you’ve heard from your neighbour are correct.

For instance, did you know that ALL Filipinos have some sort of a relative… or a distant relative, living in the United States of the Democrats, the Republicans and the Damned?

People from my land, the land of clear blue skies, coconut trees, weather la tropicale and boring malls would do anything just to get out of the country? It doesn’t matter whether they marry a sex-starved pensioner from Europe or smuggle themselves in cheap nylon suitcases one body part at a time: a lot of people will find a way just to get out… and most of them did.

What’s even worse are illegal immigrants who are a drain to a foreign government’s resources: benefits and welfare scroungers.


So here I am, a model citizen, suffering the consequences of my fellow shitizens.

Each and every god damn country in this planet now requires a friggin visa before allowing us to breathe oxygen in their country.

Some visas are easy to get, particularly the ones where no one from my country usually go to: India, China, Mongolia, etc, while most embassies now require us to give our entire lives documented in paper: bank statements, credit card statements, income tax returns, proof of assets, house & car titles, letters from our employers or proof of our businesses and everything else that you can think of.

And yes, they even want your first born child… or your bed sheet thread count if you’re impotent.

Now I don’t mind giving out such paperwork if I wanna go to a full blown shopping and reckless recreation expedition but doing so each and every time I want to go somewhere (or getting one visa after another one expires) is a fuckin hassle.

The documents are one thing but what’s worse is the drama dealing with the embassies.

Waking up at some ungodly hour just to submit your application at the embassy is one thing.

Queueing for hours is another thing.

And having incessant chit chat with someone who wants to pry on your personal life is another…although I have to give everyone credit for not asking me my guilty pleasures, the number of people I’ve slept with and the number of times I got my hair coloured in the past.

When one of my gal pals went to a European city last year for around 2 weeks, the local embassy took around 3 weeks to a month just to process her visa application… and the embassy had her passport the whole time!

Most of these embassies employ hardcore snob-to-the-max Filipino administrative assistants who would give you the cold shoulder as if you’re a mere pleb when in reality they should be the ones hailing you because of the economic benefit they’ll get from you when you spend your dosh at their local shoppingeries.

I guess one should never forget that there are still citizens such as myself who loves living in the land of the brown, the l’exotique and the natives.

Why would I want to live somewhere else when I’m living like a fucking queen here?

I have drivers (alright, crappy, dumb drivers), I have maids.
I have Vuitton suitcases and Chanel shades.

I never fly economy
Because I hate the sound of ‘mommy’

I don’t want your fucking jobs
Coz my dry cleaning bills are worth more than your handbag!

There goes my singer/songwriting skills. Now you know why I’ll never make it to the R&B section of your local music store.

It’s true though… I’ll never, ever, ever give up whatever I have here just to live anywhere else.

Going on holidays and vacations are fine, but knock-knock-cliche-snap-snap-reality, there’s no such place like home.

So yeah, if you want me to visit your country, go ahead and write to your government and ask them to friggin waive the visa requirement for model citizens such as myself.

Otherwise screw you cause I’ll only go where the wind blows.


My Pratesi and rivotril are waiting are for me. Good night/morning/afternoon everyone! or +63-915-785-1492 if you need me.

7:03 pm

Shove it!, Lacoste

11/09/2005, Uncategorized

Shove it!

Here’s a little act of kindness (and of course, publicity) for those who give it to me.

*rolls eyes*

As some of you know, I ocassionally check sites that refer to my site from time to time. I like to keep track of what’s going on around the world, where my site is being talked about, etc.

You see, I’m a certified A-grade hoarder. I hoard clothes, bags, accessories and such.

Heck, I even hoard love, attention and hate mail.

Anyhoo, there’s another entertaining thread on some Filipino forum somewhere. Trust me, there’s quite a few hilarious posts there.

One thing in particular is this ‘Foxistar’ person who is certainly sure that I want to be a girl but even a sex change can’t change the truth… no amount of money will make me a girl.


It looks like this fucker knows me more than I know myself.

(BTW, I’m not sure whether or not posters can re-edit their posts once they’ve posted on the boards but I wouldn’t be surprised if s/he took it off. Anyway, at least I know… and have seen better)

A sex change?

Me being a girl?

Why on earth would I want mussels on my crotch when I love being a boy, I love my cock, I like jacking off and being jacked off?

I’m not THAT deranged to turn myself into a vagina.


Yuck, yuck, yuck, yuck.

In any case, isn’t it just adorable?

What’s even more amazing is when this wart-faced douche bag emailed me earlier today.


Then I replied… and he replied…


And finally…


If I was a handbag designer, there’s no way I’d email "ugly, gay, almost famous" people who WANTS TO GET A SEX CHANGE out of the blue and bribe them with handbag endorsements in exchange for free publicity.

The right way to do it bitch is to at least kiss my ass, worship the third world soil I’m standing on and tell me I’m fucking gorgeous, fabulous, sexy and all things patronizing that you can think of. Once I’ve promoted you, then you can start the backstabbing and the filth.

Not the other way around.

Alas, you did quite the opposite.

I hope my efforts in giving you publicity pay off.

I just fucking love it. People will go to great lengths just to use you… kiss your ass, say bad shit about you, etc.

Fuckin bastards.

When the only thing I want to do is to have fuckin fun.

Nevertheless, I’m glad there are people out there – and these are the people who really MATTER – friends and genuine people – who know better. People who will never judge me based on what they see initially, but based on their own personal experiences of/with ME.

You know who you guys are and I truly appreciate each and every one of you.

I know I OWE absolutely no one any explanation – as you guys have told me over and over again – but it’s things like this that I can’t bear. Don’t worry, I’ll most definitely fine-tune myself and learn to adapt based on my experiences.

Back to the handbag bitch… who’s the bigger loser now?

Me, obviously.

Because I’ve let myself used and gave what s/he wanted.

But frankly, I don’t give a flying fuck.

Shit happens.

Look mate, your handbag concept is nice, in fact, a handful of your bags are quite cool, but your attitude fuckin stinks. Whether or not you get something out of this post you at least owe me a couple of handbags.

May you rot in handbag hell.

*runs off to get a Fendi Spy bag in white mink*

La La Lacoste

As Fashion Week in New York goes into full swing, photos are flooding in, particuary the ones from Lacoste.








I knew s/he’s gonna reply in a heartbeat. S/he’s on crack bryanboy.



Coffee anyone?


Loves it!


As always, y’all know my email address.

2:14 am

Protected: Food Poisoning, Handbag Insider, Mangotastic Saturday

11/09/2005, Current Affairs

This content is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

9:48 pm

Nuclear Wintour

09/09/2005, Fashion

Nuclear Wintour


You *have* to see this. Look who fell off her seat at the US Open.




6:06 pm

Testosterone Galore

09/09/2005, Uncategorized

Testosterone Galore

Oh my fucking god.

The Cosmo Magazine Bachelor’s Bash was a blast.

I unleashed the inner Seventeen-magazine (ok… more like Teen Beat with JTT and Andrew Keegan on it… yuck..) reading teenage girl from within.

Never in my entire life I have publicly screamed my heart out like a fuckin desperate bitch.

And never in my entire life I have seen a vast number of faggots and females screaming their hearts out like fucking bitches in heat.

But yeah… I’m telling you, I probably spent a good half hour screaming "oh my god (because a lot of them were buttons, buttons, buttons – thanks IMS-E.)" and shrieking with my hands up in the air telling "I love you" to any random guy with a bulge on their crotch.

Whereas the girls behind me were going "Marry me _____!!" or "I wanna have babies _____!"

Loves it.

The place was friggin full, crowded and hot – my top was literally drenched with sweat when I went out of the tent… thank GOD I brought "back up" outfits with me in the car. No way I could’ve survived the night without changing clothes.

Let’s play pictionary for a bit.











What’s strange tho is I probably didn’t even see half of whatever happened there because I didn’t wear my contacts.

I was TOTALLY disappointed when I saw that Dennis Trillo person. I know he looks short in TV a`he looks fit.

But I didn’t expect him to be 4 feet 1 inch tall!

And the straight twin brother of my little "everyone-knows-he’s-homosexual-all-he-needs-to-do-is-to-come-out" eye candy thing wasn’t there either.

Enough of this ghetto local showbiz obsession nonsense. I revealed far too much about my deadly showbiz sins already. How so so lower middle class.

I look forward to next year’s bash.

Whatever happened after the bash is best kept to myself. All I know is I got home at around 7:30AM.

Bryanboy Loves… and Random Cheesemax

# – Bryanboy loves people from Bendigo, VIC – Australia, Lambeth, London – UK, Burnaby, BC – Canada, Hildenborough, Kent – UK, Graz – Austria, Baulkam Hills, NSW – Australia and Sunbury, VIC – Australia. Bryanboy loves y’all and I wouldn’t hesitate to give each and every one of you sexual favors had I been to there.

#2 – Has anyone in this planet taken a sleeping pill/benzo which comes in small blue tablets with "P94" on one side of the pill? A friend gave me two of these last night and boy it helped me sleep! It was better than rivotril! I don’t know what they were called.

#3 – I can’t believe there’s nowhere in this city where one could go to (for booze/dancing/nice music/chill out/whatever) at 5-6AM. Anyway, me and a couple of friends ended up at Capone’s post-Fluxxe. Capone’s is this bar/small club where preppy Filipino (also known as "coño") kids go to.


I’m not feeling good today for some strange reason.

I feel sooo drowsy, cold and clammy.

I’ll update later. Email me as always,


6:54 pm

Fuck the Playboy Bunny

08/09/2005, Current Affairs

Fuck the Playboy Bunny

Oh fuck it.

The Cosmo Magazine Bachelor Bash will start in less than 2 or 3 hours and my gal pal Tina is giving a massage to her beau.


Which means my Playboy bunny ears, tail and black-tie collar piece won’t be done in time.

Screw it. Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck.

I told her last weekend that I wanna come out as a playboy bunny tonight but I guess she had other priorities.


I’m disappointed.

But it’s alright understandable.

The perils of living in the third world and not having stores that carry costume props asking favors from friends who have busy schedules.

Oh well.

There’s always a next time.

Fuck dressing up as a playboy bunny.

At next year’s Cosmo bash I’m flying to Thailand to get a friggin sex change, get a pair of tits that can give a pregnant bitch a run for her money and a vagina as tight as a 14 year old’s.

Then I’m going out as a fuckin dominatrix.


Bryanboy Loves… and Random Cheesemax

#1 – Bryanboy loves people from Auckland, NZ, Irvine, CA, La Fiance, France, La Habra, CA, my fans from Dallas, TX and Echterdingen, Germany. I love y’all… each and every one of you. Keep the love coming.

#2 – Oui, Ja, Yes, Si. He of the guilty-and-gay-until-proven-straight homosexual kind was there last night at Jenni Ep’s party lookin good. Gawd. I feel like a fuckin school girl every time I see him at La Embajada.

#3 – I got around 9,400 hits yesterday. I wonder where all of that came from. Keep spreading the word around bitches, a ton of them are from the Netherlands and Venezuela. I love you all.

#4 – Since everyone in the land of the brown and the natives aka Las Islas Filipinas is reading this blog, I’m gonna clean up my site, open up ad space and bombard those folks on dial up with ad torture. Email or SMS me at +63-915-785-1492 if you want your ads to be posted here.

#5 – I need another holiday dammit. I wanna go to the beach. It’s been ages since I had maximum sun damage on top of a designer beach towel. I need to get brown and burned, from scalp to toes, on top of my virgin Chanel towel. 

#6 – A loyal fan turned my "I wish I’m plastered on fuckin billboards at the freeway" fantasy into a virtual reality. Now if only someone can turn that virtual reality into REAL 50 Feet Tall, 150 Feet Wide billboard I’ll forever be indebted.



#7 – Send more love dammit! Be fucking creative and send your love to PLEASE AVOID PHOTOSHOP. I only made an exception to Merrill Lynch because the damn company, I’m sure, can’t take photos of all of their employees.




I think that’s all for now. Last night’s party was one of the best parties recently and it better have a part 2.

I need to get dressed. Say hi to me later.

I’m nice and sweet.

Despite what y’all fuckfaced whoring scumbags think.

I love you all.


6:23 am


08/09/2005, Life


Fucking 6:10AM here.

I’m at a loss of words. Can’t function straight.

But a promise is a promise.

Booze or not, let’s play pictionary. Text to follow tomorrow.

I need to sleep.

Nevertheless, I love YOU ALL.

Especially Pepper Teeheknowswhoheis. And Rajo L., whom I never got to spend quality time to talk… but there’s always a next time I’m sure.

CRL – One phrase: THANK you.

Now back to pictionary…