The Simple Life, It's a Miracol, Remi Martin Through The Ages, People of Sweden

The Simple Life

I've been leading a simple life these days because of exhaustion.

I'm too burnt out to work, too burnt out to travel... I'm just EXHAUSTED of EVERYTHING.

Maybe I should fly to middle of nowhere Arizona and check myself into one of those rehabilitation clinics.

I devirginized both my Goyard and Ordning & Reda agendas yesterday evening. It's sickening to know that I only have 2 life-threatening things to do this week.

A haircut AND a facial this afternoon.

That's all.

How boring is that?

I need to get my life back on track.

I need a social life.

I need to be productive.

I need to do something nice, something exciting, something vibrant, something life-changing, something fulfilling, something innovative, something profitable, something... something.

Seriously.... I can't help but feel sorry and sad for myself, looking at how empty my life (and my agenda) is.

Maybe I need a hobby.

I don't know.

It's a MIRACOL!

Every once in awhile, Hannah Matronic (my estranged wife) and I giggle on how barok (primitive) my English is.

I'm a card-carrying free speech advocate. I believe everyone should be entitled to say whatever the hell they want without the fear of being anally humiliated by the grammEr (yep... grammEr) nazis, the spell-check squad and the syntax police.

It's not uncommon in the land of the brown, l'exotique and the natives to be attacked simply because your English skills suck. Not even Chanel or Goyard can save your life in the social weighing scale because English proficiency is considered as a status symbol in this country.

On that note... I feel like screaming

IT'S A MIRACOLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!

One of my good friends said someone called her to say I forgot my cellphone and my wallet somewhere... and they're holding it for me until I drop by to pick it up.

I can't believe there are angels out there and my Moto Razr and my Goyard wallet is still alive and breathing oxygen.

*fingers, legs and toes are crossed*

I'll try my best to pick it up today or tomorrow.

Remi Martin Through The Ages

Meet Remi. Remi is a sweet little kid (I have to admit that he's far from little because the fucker is about 6-foot-2 tall) from Sweden. Remi is one of my "original fanboys", as he once said in an email.

This photo was taken today....

I was supposed to meet him when I went to Stockholm but he backed out on the last minute cause he was scared that his English ain't that good. That's alright though.

He's a great chat buddy if you don't mind talking to delusional model-wannabes who needs a nose job (thanks Mauricio). I'm kidding.

Seriously, Remi is a really sweet kid. He's the big little gay brother I never had. I mean, he claims he's "straight"... I think they all do in Sweden, but my gaydar and his medicine cabinet says he's a flamer!

I feel bad for him because he got beaten up by 2 guys right on New Year's Eve! He was drunk and he claims he wasn't able to defend himself. Poor Remi. Not even the gayest of the gays (aka me) got beaten up on New Year's Eve.

Speaking of young gay people, Hannah Matronic and I are onto something. I'll tell you more about it later.

Anyway.

Let this post be a tribute to my good acquaintance Remi Martin. It's amazing how he exemplifies human evolution. You don't need to go to a museum or a library to research the history of man... all you need is Remi!

Back when Remi is as fat as a boar.

Remi when he was a chubby little cherub

Remi in his mid-teens. Look at the skin!

Remi with a friend


Remi in high school

Remi's class picture

Scary Remi:

Remi on New Year's Eve when he got beaten up

People of Sweden

Jag älskar er alla, ni svenskar också!!!!!

Maila mig era mammaknullare och säg hej!!!!

I love you all, as always. Email bryanboy@gmail.com and tell me you love me.

Baboosh!