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26 entries categorized "Life"

June 06, 2006

Back to regular programming... Today's 6/6/6! Camwhore Time! Bryanboy does Lunch! Yes, Lunch!

Back to regular programming...

First things first, I'm so touched with all your heart-warming emails. Who knew my little Obagi post caused a little stir on my Outlook inbox? I've received 249 emails, that's right, 249 emails in the past 24 hours with questions about Obagi, vanity, all sorts of stuff. What inspired me the most was the comment from "mhai" who said she "commends me for not being afraid to show a part of myself which is uglier than now".

I'll try to answer emails as soon as I can. I still have a huge backlog from the past 2 weeks (probably even months) but I promise I'll do my best to answer them all. But for now, let me do a quick blog update.


Sunglasses by Gucci, button down shirt from Filippa K (Sweden), undershirt from Topshop, bag from Chanel, jeans from Gucci, shoes from Dior Homme.

Continue reading "Back to regular programming... Today's 6/6/6! Camwhore Time! Bryanboy does Lunch! Yes, Lunch!" »

June 05, 2006

Excessively Preppy. Office Worker Chic. I mean Shit.

Excessively Preppy. Office Worker Chic

Boy oh boy, what an unbelievable weekend I had. It rained cats and dogs on Saturday night and it was pouring parties left and right. The awful H2O that fell from the sky didn't stop my preppy-wannabe ass from hopping from one party to another.

I left the house at 7PM and it wasn't even raining. As soon as I crossed the territorial borders of the big city with the bright lights, it started to pour. A friend called and even suggested that I should unleash the fur and the Jacket-a-wheelers cause it was pissing down with rain. Thank god I brought a Dior Homme dinner jacket with me.

Super super drunk but I still look fierce. And fugly. Look at the face. Hahaha!

Too bad she called in late. I friggin wore a white top and beige trousers. Eeek! My dry cleaners will have a ball as soon as I send in my shit. LOL.

Hat by Chanel, top from Neil Barrett, fish necklace from Chanel, pearl belt (worn as necklace) by Chanel, faux pearls necklace from a flea market, B bag from Fendi, bracelet by Hermès, trousers by Prada, shoes from Louis Vuitton.

Continue reading "Excessively Preppy. Office Worker Chic. I mean Shit." »

October 20, 2005

Mental Block, Love at First Sight, One Light, Terrific Tinios, Energy Saver

Mental Block

Mentalblock I WANT TO CRY.

My article/piece for Just Shop magazine was due on Tuesday and it's already fuckin Thursday. I can't believe I'm having a mental block.

If you think hearing voices at the back of your head before you sleep is bad, having mental block is the worst.

I mean, I ALWAYS have something to say but I just can't put words into paper (or MS Word) in an eloquent fashion.

Screw it.

After this blog post, I'm going to lock myself inside my wardrobe with nothing but this laptop on, some L'Artisan candles and some fuckin cigarettes. I won't get out of my cocoon until I have a presentable article.

I need inspiration NOT perspiration.

I have so many things going on inside my head these days it's not even funny.

And yes, that includes the upcoming Halloween.

Everyone's fucking travelling somewhere and here I am stuck in the cesspit of the third world... not to mention the US$600 worth of costumes, fake tattoos and fetish boots I bought online as my halloween outfit.

I want to travel dammit. I'm tempted.

It's so easy to go to the Philippine Airlines website and book an eTicket somewhere.



Love at First Sight

The best thing about going out is NOT the ritual of getting dressed or arriving at the destination. Instead, it's the excitement that I get whenever I come back home a couple of hours later to see what arrived on my inbox.

Don't laugh - I'm really a geek trapped inside a wannabe-nouveaux riche's crappy clothes.

At least I know my flaws eh? The first step is admission.

The second step is recognition.


Meet my prince charming from Austria... and his black Gucci silk foulard, a black Dior Homme shirt with the bee signature, wool cut out gloves, black Gucci belt and dark blue washed Dior jeans.

Forget your typical Eurotrash families with their own personal coat of arms. This is how people should do it.



One Light

If you're currently in Manila, haul your hairy, fat ass to the Ayala Museum to view Tom Epperson's exhibit entitled "One Light".

Tom Epperson is an American photographer based in Manila. He's married to Jenni, my editor at Just Shop magazine (who I owe a revised article big time because my first draft SUCKED ASS) and they have a 9-year old daughter.

I went to the opening night on Tuesday and a ton of the portraits there are good. In fact, they're ALL good. You have to see them yourself. The exhibit is available for public viewing until November 2, 2005. Go inside my favourite haunt, M Cafe and take the stairs to the 2nd (or technically, the 3rd) floor.

After Tom's, I met up with one of my very good friends, Ariel, whom I haven't seen in the past few months. He's produces fashion shows and events here in the Philippines.


God I looked so awful and tired. I swear I looked like a friggin cadaver. I've been having sleeping problems in the past few days. 3-4 hours of sleep is NOT ENOUGH for a growing, baby boy like me.

(That's Jenni, btw.)

Red stripe top by Lux from Urban Outfitters, dog tag necklace by Chanel.

Terrific Tinios

I went to Zen restaurant yesterday night for my long overdue dinner with Mary Ann Tinio. Mr. Tinio, their daughter Alessandra (remember Panic?) and my gal pal Tina D. were there, too. Zen catered my little dinner party a few months back. Great Japanese food, I'm telling you. Zen Restaurant, Glorietta 3, Makati City.



(T-shirt by Dior Homme, belt by Valentino)

Energy Saver

So many events, so little time. It's the annual Paris Young Designers Competition today and my gal pal Tina Daniac is one of the contestants. Alright, she's NOT that young. The thing about the Filipino fashion industry however is the fact that everyone is an "up and coming" young designer - and they remain like that FOREVER - until, of course, they go a wheelchair.

Seriously. This is the ONLY country in the world where a 50 year old designer is still considered as "up and coming".

I hate that phrase. "Up and coming" my fuckin ass.

Embassy is closed today so there's no other place to chill other than Nuvo (my friend Kiko has a thing there tonight, along with Rhett Eala and Victor Consunji).

I'm still not sure whether or not I'm going out tonight.

I think I'm staying indoors. I've been out 2 nights this week already... Tuesday and Wednesday. Frankly, I'm quite the exhausted one. Skip the fall/winter escapade this year. Perhaps it's better (for the long run) to book myself into the Priory... or a treatment center in Arizona? Bah.

I *might* go out if y'all bombard me with messages begging me to go out...

SMS *me* bitches: +63-915-785-1492

I'm gonna save my energy for tomorrow... or Saturday... or whenever.

Bryanboy Loves... and Random Cheesemax

Yslbag #1 - Bryanboy loves people from Watalgan, QLD, Australia, Brisbane, Australia, Jakarta, Indonesia, Hempstead, NY, Duncan, Oklahoma, Chicago, IL, students from Georgetown University, Minneapolis, MN, Davis, CA, Goolma, NSW and of course, all my friends at NineMSN Australia. Bryanboy loves you all. I really do!

#2 - Yves Saint Laurent support Kate Moss . There is a GOD, afterall. And his initials? Y.S.L. I don't like the religious-looking bejeweled bags this season though. The only people that should be seen carrying those bags with a Maltese cross are fucking nuns going to a Nine Inch Nails or something concert.

#3 - Anyone fancy a blowjob? US$2,410 and my vulgar mouth can be yours.

I'll do anal for US$9,450. Gotta love that white mink Fendi spy bag.

#4 - You gotta love kids all over the world emulating my infamous handbag pose. Bryanboy LOVES you, Richard. I'd fondle your cock and balls or give you sexual favors if I was there in Philly, PA. But no, you're only 17... I don't want to be arrested for statury rape.

On SECOND thought that would be cool - at least I'll get to do my jail house gangbang video.


Anyhoo, it's getting better and better bitches. Send me your entry and I'll give you a dollar and an oreo cookie for the effort.


As always, you know where to contact me. Email or SMS +63-915-785-1492.

Shop the world, get bankrupt, become a prostitute, take up bestiality, get yourself overdosed in coke or heroin.

Whatever it is that you are doing, wherever you are in the world, all I can say is I LOVE YOU ALL!


September 08, 2005



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...








September 02, 2005

Cry Me A Mississippi River, Rocky Rocked my Rock-hard Heart, Meet Kelly

Cry Me a Mississippi River

Oh thank god. It's nice to be back, in my room, with nothing but black boxers, a cigarette on my left hand... and  smug look on my face.

That's right -- I'm back in the good ol comforts of my parents' pig pen, humongous blue Globetrotter suitcase full of materialistic and orgasmic pleasure, shopping guilt and priceless memories.

I even came to the point where I called the airline to extend my stay in Hong Kong till Saturday because Tina, my gal pal, wanted to go back home today.


But reality sinked in and my heart (which means my wallet, my parents, my life...*kidding*) is nagging that I should just go back.

So off I went to the airport with her, went straight to the business class counter and used my charm to get away with the excess baggage --  I had 45 kilos with me -- oh yes -- for free.

All I can say is that I wish I didn't come home yesterday and extended my stay.

I miss Hong Kong... and shopping.

Rocky Rocked Our Rock-hard Hearts

I take back about everything I have said about male models.

Ok -- maybe not.

On Sunday afternoon, post designer shopping madness, Tina and moi were doing a quick run down of the shops (hah) at Ocean Terminal in Hong Kong. We were kinda having a fight near the doors because I wanted to eat and/or go out for a cigarette but she wanted to go back to the hotel and take a shower.

Then comes this tall, bald looking (ok. not bald, but very short hair) guy walking up the stairs.


"Tina, look at that bald cutie. Oh my god!"

Tina D suddenly went to a frenzy and said "I know that guy! and he's Filipino"

Then she went up to him and they apparently know each other. With my gal pal being well, motor mouth Miss Congeniality Tina D, she introduced him to me and me to him and invited Rocky to hang with us. Rocky wasn't doing anything that day and was just roaming around.

With him being 6'2, he became our mascot-slash-bodyguard. Oh yes.

He tagged along with us, shopping and dining around Hong Kong. I'm telling you, his face/body is plastered in quite a few bilboards around that city, not to mention Singapore and Bangkok. He really is such a nice guy.

In fact, despite me being surrounded by people who work in fashion and not working in the fashion industry (contrary to what people think), he is one of the most down-to-earth, humble, hardworking people I have ever met.

He distances himself from other male models especially on shows cause all they talk is gym and boring/pretentious stuff... and he doesn't like it when everyone speaks English -- in the Philippines.


He even deprives himself of things, saves all of his money from campaigns, shows, etc, even to the point of just living on the US$15 a day personal budget (although if he WANTED to spend spend spend, he can do it easily) - just so he can give everything he earned to his family. Come to think of it, he recently bought a 600-square meter land in the province for his mom. Can any Filipino male model do that? I don't think so.

On our last day in Hong Kong, Rocky and moi spent over 7 hours straight, non-stop, talking about everything under the sun - from 4AM until 11AM, without any sleep whatsoever. Even Tina couldn't resist chiming in when she got up.

I'm not gonna go into detail on what we talked about but trust me, it made me feel guilty about shopping that day.


I saw something in Rocky I haven't ever seen in my life - an older brother. I wish him all the best (because he deserves it all) and I hope to see him again.

Meet My New Best Friend, Kelly

Kelly and Me on Nathan Road

Tina, Rocky and I found Kelly, the Rubber Chicken, on the streets of Granville Road. I love her! Everyone in Hong Kong loves her! I used my Birkin bag everyday and put Kelly inside it and trust me - I got more attention from people because of Kelly, instead of my Birkin.

Kelly and Me Inside the Dior Store in Lee Gardens where I Bought My Dior Bag

Kelly and a Jean Paul Gaultier Store Sales Associate

It's nice to make (and see) people smile because of a rubber chicken. Chinese people, particularly the ones in Hong Kong, are generally cold and don't have a sense of humor. However, with Kelly's head and neck popping out of my Birkin bag and flops as I walk the streets as if it's one huge runway during fashion week, people smile, point, and even ask me whether or not they can touch the chicken. 


Even police officers, immigration people and customs people LOVES Kelly. The smile, laughter and happiness that Kelly gives to people is priceless.

And of course, Kelly never flies economy on international flights or flights longer than 1 hour. It's always business class or first for her.


More updates in a bit, including my EXCESS, EXCESS, EXCESS photos.

I love you all!


August 27, 2005

Eat Your Heart Out.

Eat Your Heart Out.

Boy oh boy the folks at Inquirer are generous. That's why I love them. (ha ha - am I a freeloader too?)

And there I was -- stuck for about an hour and a half inside the car yesterday en route to my travel agent, thinking/asking myself

"I wonder how much do those billboards on the freeway cost."

But this one is better.



You should've seen the billboards that we have on the freeway - they're HUGE.

I think it would be absolutely fabulous if I have my face plastered on a billboard, followed by my website address and my cellphone number, followed by "Please fund my shopping sprees."

On that profound note, I'm signing off.

I'm gonna sleep, have beautiful dreams and wake up impossibly-fresh looking.

I gotta go to my aesthetician later for a last minute session, followed by a pedicure.

Also, thought you'd want to know, I won't bring my 17-inch sony vaio laptop with me. I'm on a full-scale retail and conspicuous consumption shopping expedition and a computer is nothing but nuisance.

I'll be back either Wednesday night or Thursday -- depends on when my travel buddy wants to go home.

By the meantime, validate my existence you mere mortals. Bombard my email account with messages (and pictures) of you holding a DIY "I Love/<3 Bryanboy" sign. or +63-915-785-1492. Text messages are accepted. No phone calls please. I *NEVER* answer phone calls from numbers I don't know.

I love you all!!

Stay fabulous.

Stay... Bryanboy!


August 23, 2005

Monday Mourning

Monday Mourning

Ever since I started this blog, I made a personal promise that I'll never post any entries while being under the influence of alcohol because god knows what I'll end up writing.

Being the certified night owl that I am, no amount of tranquilizers can put me to rest - despite all the cocktails I had.

Yes - I've broken (again) my cardinal rule of not to go out during the weekdays. Today (or yesterday, rather) was an exception.

It's Hannah Matronic's last night out in Manila.


She's off to New York this coming Wednesday to study.

Although I've only known her for about 2 or so months, there's this 'connection' between us. I love her no-nonsense,  no bull, brutal, frank and honest opinions (gawd can I be any more patronizing?) - traits that's very rare to get from people these days.

Kate T., a local designer, sang brilliantly for hours - a very talented individual indeed.

Saw quite a few familiar (and very friendly) faces and enjoyed hours of chat with folks. Tonight is definitely one of my best nights out. It was low-key but refreshing. This one will definitely go to my memory books.





Who knew Monday woud be such a blast? And who would have thought I'd be home by 1:52AM and still have great fun? I couldn't help but wonder: Saturday nights are indeed overrated.

It's just a shame that a newfound acquaintance is leaving. Nevertheless, I'm definitely gonna miss her. She'll be back this December tho... ;)

God do I feel fuckin sentimental or what?

I think I'll try to go to bed. Tomorrow's gonna be yet another beautiful day. I'll save the random cheesemax (honestly, there aren't any!!! oi vey!!!) and shameless self-promotion later.


P.S. Send me more love bitches!
(Sorry, can't resist.)


August 13, 2005

Haircut, Friday Furs and Feathers, Car Crash Camera

Rapunzel's Getting a Haircut

I need a haircut. Badly. Like tomorrow.

The last time I got a haircut was probably what -- 2 months ago? My hair is just ugh so long now that my head feels sooo heavy especially with all the spunk gunk I put on it.

I don't even need one of those fancy schmancy haircuts. I just want my hair cut very short and clean.

Friday Furs and Feathers

Went to the Shu Uemura party yesterday and it was a blast! Saw a ton of people from A to Z and boy the event was a success. I love the fake eyelashes - and yes - they even came in purple - but no - as pretty as they are fake eyelashes were, to me, at least to me, they're like the cute cousin/married guy/straight guy you want to fuck - but you just can't because the forces of nature won't allow you to do so.

My excuse: despite my little lip gloss addiction, I'm still a boy, remember?

But to you real girls, long hair, breasts and vaginas out there, be sure to go to the nearest Shu Uemura counter pronto to see their fall/winter stuff.

I think I already told you lot that I love the rain, non? It's been raining daily, non-stop, for the past 2 weeks now and sometimes, just sometimes, you just have to use that sort of weather to go ALL OUT when it comes to dressing up.

Fur? In Manila? That's right bitches.

Fuck, if my memory serves me right, the last time I used fur in Manila was back when I was 15 or 16 and used to go to one of those "consortium" raves (icky factor that word: rave) back in the dark ages. Yep. I miss those bygone days where everyone doesn't give a cow's shit no matter what it is that you wear so it kinda gives you that go signal to be as crazy and creative etc. Effort at it's finest.

As the 2 Tina-s that I know always say: "fight fight fight!" These days, you just have to fight... for survival. Pomp it up to the nines. Let bitches eat cake while you kick the floor with your heels and preen until yer eyesockets fall off. I love it. :)

(Moi at the Shu Uemura event)

Dinner Dinner

Post-Shu, gal pal Tina D. and rushed off to the mall to buy booze etc.

Despite everyone being a couple of hours late (Manila Time is... Manila Time, which is pretty much getting up at 6AM and the only time you get a newspaper is the time when London's Evening Standard goes on sale) on my little dinner party thing, I'm glad the ones I invited show up.

Heck, even I was late -- invite said 8, I showed up around 8:30/9. Hah!

I know the dinner party invites were sent on such a short notice, it was a Friday... and some of the people I invited are very busy individuals with other pressing things to do on a Friday night. Some are even working. So even if they didn't show up, it was perfectly understandable and there's always a next time.

Actually, after last night's dinner party, I don't even know if there's gonna be a next time.

I hope so.

I know myself, after booze and all, I can be completely OUT OF IT.


But the ones who did show up, are, well, fucking fun! Let's face it - I've known most of these people for quite some time now (haha) and the original plan of this little dinner party is for it to be private and intimate.

And for the ones who I only got to spend some time with yesterday, well, I think you're all nice, warm and friendly folks and I would most definitely want to see you again. It's all good. I sincerely hope that you had fun as much as I did.

The moment everyone's been waiting for (har har), let's play pictionary shall we?









We still have a TON of booze left so if you want to do another party - give me a shout. Har Har.

Once again, thank you, thank you, thank you everyone for coming to my little dinner party.

Car Crash Camera

Oh god. Oh my fucking god. I still can't believe it. I can't. I just fucking can't.

I'm sorry.

I just fucking can't believe it.


Fuck it. As much as I want to keep it to myself (or should I say - to the people WHO KNOW), I just fucking need to purge this out of my system.

This is what happens if someone picks up your camera lying down somewhere and takes random pictures.

4 pictures.

Forget a straight girl and a straight guy snogging. That's nothing.

But those 4 pictures. Oh yes those 4 fucking pictures... are permanently etched in my head.

GAY SMUT at its finest.

I can't believe you guys did that.

When? Why?

I think the million dollar question is - HOW?


I have emotional scars now dammit.

Emotional Scars.

But gawd they're HILARIOUS as fuck.


Rimming, anyone?

This will definitely go to the:


I would really appreciate if you do not bring this subject up ever again. Ever. Not now, not today, not tomorrow, not in 10 years time. That's why I'm purging it out of my system now like a proper bullemic bitch. Once you've puked it out, off to the septic tank it goes.

Let's pretend this never happened/I didn't brought it up.


(what didn't happen?)
(um, what the fuck are you talking about?)

That sort of thing.


Bryanboy Loves... and Random Cheesemax

Jenni Jenni Jenni Jenni E - why the heck didn't we have pictures of us twogether? I hope the next time I see you, we have a full-time papparazzi in tow. I love those boots! Tina D. was supposed to be little Ms. Photographer for the night but she decided to be "punong abala" or "hermana mayora". Hahahahahahaha!

Anyway, I like the name Prunella. Prunella Vulgaris to be exact. Apparently it's a plant, too.

Thanks for dropping by at my little thingie majigie. ;)


I've got nothing else to say. I'm still having palpitations from those 4 pictures.


As always, email me -

And no, I'm not going to Godskitchen tonight.

Because God doesn't have a kitchen and I'm anorexic and bullemic as fuck.

Can we go to the toilets instead?

(Suck my dick... Lick my ass)


August 11, 2005

Lick my Ass, Wicked Wednesday, Screw Gucci, Fluxxe


Nice to see a sudden change of tone from THAT online forum's vitriol infestation.

Call center life must be oh so boing-boing-boring. Go back to your little cubicles and drink motor oil. It's good for you.

To be famous is so nice.

Suck my dick.

Lick my ass.

In limousines we have sex, every night with my famous friends.

Motherfuckers are so nice.

Suck my dick.

Lick my ass.

Wicked Wednesday

After coming home at 4AM earlier today, who knew I'd be getting up 5 hours later with a massive headache, only to find myself console on a hearty (fatty is more like it) breakfast?

My head hurts after yesterday's debauchery. Yep. After all that vodka I had yesterday, I feel like there are a thousand cosmonauts dancing inside my head. I've officially broken my little cardinal rule of going out - which is NEVER TO GO OUT ON WEEKDAY NIGHTS.

For the past year or so, I've had control... I've always told myself that I'll only go out (stay out all night) on a weekend, which is usually a Friday or Saturday night. If I'm going out on a weekday night, it must be in a non-club/bar environment. Until yesterday.

What started as a "last minute shopping/meeting" with my gal pal Tina Daniac ended up into a restaurant-hopping, vodka-and-Embajada-dancing charade with Gian.


I went out early in the afternoon to meet up with Tina. I still don't have an outfit for tomorrow's Shu Uemura party and my little dinner thing. The invite says "Mysterious Glamour". I heard some people are gonna show up ala those masquerade balls in Venice but who knows. What is Mysterious Glamour anyway?

I guess that's the mystery of it. As long as there's glamour, who cares about the rest? ;)

Chances are, everyone will friggin show up in black. No surprise in that.

Tina and I went to a fabric store (saw some great-looking fabrics) so she can have one of her sewing people do something for me and a friend, in the last minute.


I went to Gucci to take a peek at the fall/winter stuff. Most of them are CRAPOLA. Am I the only one who thinks their new fall bags (the ones I saw at the stores, particuarly the newish pattern) are icky?

I ended up buying a pair of jeans and a belt. One can never have too many jeans. I probably have more than 200 pairs of denim jeans in my wardrobe -- no kidding -- but I only use 4 or 5 (on rotation) at the most. It sucks!

I guess I'm a fucking hoarder, just like your grandmother.


Bah. Despite showering off the night away and taking one heck of a good poo as soon as I got home earlier this morning, my stomach is still churning all that food I ate yesterday: had friggin salad, oysters, scallops, and some roast beef-thingie at Pepato at around 5PM followed by a ton of spring rolls, chicken satay, tom yam soup at People's Palace a couple of hours later. I really do feel like a pregnant bitch.

If only I can stick my fingers up my throat I will - but I won't. I probably have digested all that food to the point where puke won't be coming out of my mouth if I purge.


Speaking of Gucci... UGH. Remind me NOT to go to back to the Manila store unless they clean up their fuckin act (bring in better pieces; bring in more ready to wear blah blah bullshit) together.

I thought I'd share a photo taken back in late December 2000 when me and my good friend Ariel Lozada went to Bali. I think I was 16 (+1) years old back then. It's Gucci galore - bandana, glasses, shirt, everything. Gawd, go on... revel in that fugliness.


I miss those days when it was just plain ol' AB FAB. Imagine going to the markets in Ubud (Bali) on a limo + 2 bottes of champagne at fuckin 10 in the morning.

Screw Gucci.

Fluxxe Me

I know, I know. if you live in the same third word cesspit called Metro Mania as I do, be sure to get your hairy ass to Manila DJ Club later tonight. Thursdays are Fluxxe days... tonight's the 4th time they're doing it. Print the flyer and bring it along with you.


Unfortunately, I won't be able to go out tonight as I have mucho preparation to do for tomorrow's dinner party.

Bryanboy Loves... and Random Cheesemax


Jordan, Bryanboy loves you too, darlink.

Big shout out to people from Irkutsk, Russia, people from the Michigan (my aunt lives in Detroit btw) and folks from London, Ontario.

I'm sending out yet another message to last weekend's he-knows-who-he-is closet case.

I saw you again last night.

This time with your fuckin boytoy.

Don't underestimate my minions' eavesdropping skills. Introducing your boylet as your "friend" to random strangers is vomit-inducing. If you keep on doing that every time you corrupt my visuals with your presence, I'll have to pay a visit to the Betty Ford Clinic for bullemia. That's right. Bull-e-mia. You're a faggot. One heck of a fucking faggot. Now go get some cock shoved up your fuckin arse you nancy boy.

There's no doubt that I'll see you again soon.

And there's no doubt I'll bitch about you again soon.

Suck my dick.

Lick my ass.

Identify yourselves you fuckin cunts and email me. As always,


August 08, 2005

The Beautiful People, Super Saturday, Names Names Names, La Embajada, Thievery Corporation, V is for Victor

Screw the Beautiful People

You see them everywhere - malls, the streets, at the club, at events, sometimes, at restaurants. Everywhere. The ones that people admire and look up to. The ones plastered on the newspaper, magazines, the ones you see on the tv, movies, etc. Screw each and every one of them. Screw the beautiful people.

Because one day, oh yes and I fucking look forward to that day, their good looks will fade away and turn into one of these:


Post-mortem teenage angst over. Fuck I'm 18+ + + + + +.

Super Saturday

I was spending some quality time in the sheer rurality of La Provincia Laguna with my liver-spotted, "I can still walk so please don't put me on some chair with wheels DAMMIT" 80-something year old grandmother when my buddy Gian went into a text messaging fracas at 5:30PM on how:

1) I shoud call Emergency Services (as if there's a thing such as "Emergency Services" in the third world... wishful thinking eh?) and get an ambulance to rush me home in the metro.

2) I should shower up and come up with a todo outfit. "Todo" in Filipino means extreme, excess, fashion victim hideous, Bryanboy. If you're a reader coming from the non-Filipino kind, you pronounce it like "to" in "tom" and "do" in "door". TODO.

3) I should drag my fresh-from-late-grandparental-lunch-obesitation fat ass to the NBC Tent in the big city by 7PM because I'm going to present an award at the "Super" event along with my friend Kiko Escora, to the "I Love You" girls.


Alright. Perhaps I exaggerated a bit. Sorry Gian. But seriously.

Rain, 2 hour traffic and all, not even Speedy Gonzalez or any Vuitton Speedy for that matter, can achieve all that in 1 hour and 30 minutes. The distance alone is just as far as New York to London on a Concorde. And we all know what happened to that 30 year old baby - they've put the darling of the skies to rest and off to the aerial maosoleums she lies back.

I ended up getting home at 7PM from my gran's.

And rather than coming up (I think "going out" is more appropriate) with an outfit, I went out with a crappy T-shirt and some buttocks-DEFIED-by-gravity Neil Barrett jeans. Go ahead. Feel free to revel in my royal highness hidee hideousity.

This is the byproduct when you've got a panic attack, an anxiety attack, lack of time and lack of xanax all in one go.


Yep, it's those faux pearls again. It's not even effortless chic. It's effortless *burp* *burp* *fart* *fart* cheek.

I ended up at the Super Event 3 hours late, at 10PM.

Yep, the cheek of it all. My fault cheek.

Had to go with my gal pal Tina and Gareth (, who was spending his last night in Manila.


Saw quite the usual suspects, friends and acquaintances - prima facie evidence that the scene is just small - my good friend (whom I terribly miss and owe a lunch/dinner thingie) Ariel Lozada who just got back from Paris, Kiko, Tim Yap, Tesa and Carlos, Jun, Xeng Zulueta, Hannah, Mimi Samson, Jenna, Victor, Dennis, Charmaine, etc.

I met quite a few people at the event -- I didn't expect people to be reading my little corner of the dirty world wide web. It was quite overwhelming, yet fun! The ever so gracious Tim introduced me to a ton of folks, particularly to folks at the Inquirer.


Click here for more pics at the Super Event.

It was a Super event indeed.

Names, Names, Names

It's just as bad as labels, labels, labels. Bench, Penshoppe, Kamiseta. Calvin Klein, Tommy Hilfiger, Ralph Lauren. Oscar de la Renta, Marc Jacobs, Luca Luca. Paul Smith, Nicole Farhi, Clements Ribeiro. John Galliano, Alexander McQueen, Phoebe Philo. Cacharel, Lanvin, Balenciaga. Chanel, Fendi, Lagerfeld Gallery. D&G, Miu Miu, Versus (say what now). Valentino, Prada, Gucci. Dolce & Gabbana, Cavalli, Etro. Graff. Verdura. Garrard.

If you think I'm a superficial, materialistic, let-them-eat-cake cunt for playing the name drop shop till your head pops game galore, let me tell you that I'm even a complete sucker when it comes to remembering names.


I feel bad when people take the time and effort (hell yes) to introduce themselves (and other people) but when it gets done faster than the time it takes for your average coke whore snorting a bloody thick line, sometimes, just sometimes, I'd rather just freeze the moment, hand out candy and whip out my little red Smythson book to write down names.

So the next time I see you and vice-versa, please don't be offended if I ask what's your name again in the event that we say our next HIs and Hellos. Despite the fact that, chances are, we've probably seen each other many, many, many times.

Thievery Corporation

Apres-Super, everyone went to Cuisine to have some drinks. I was starving that night but rather than having a full meal, it was encore un fois all over again. I have this thing about eating in front of a lot of people (mostly strangers) so rather than ordering proper food, I ended up having a ton of vodka red bulls and a small platter of foie gras. It's just like at M Cafe on Friday.

Tina Tinio was in full force - I missed her tons after Monday's dinner party.

Tim introduced me to Celine Lopez and Jenni Epperson (amazing gal), who were both fuckingtastic that night. Celine is genuine, warm and utterly, utterly friendly. Pretty pretty girls are pretty, pretty, girls!

Which reminds me, I'm definitely going back to my evian + raisins + xanax diet soon. Or else I'll turn into a cow. Ugh.

Also saw Romeo Candido, the director who rescued me from my Friday boredom blues.


After Cuisine, we all went to Embassy as always. It's Saturday, what do you expect?

I lost my Dior chronograph watch on Saturday night at La Embajada. I remember having it on my wrist when I was playing pictionary with the cameras. Then I ventured out of the vip area to dance and burn some major calorification and next thing you know, my watch has a new owner.


Whoever you are you thieving son of a bitch, send me a message with your mailing address. I'd be more than happy to send you the case, the box, the card sets and the guarantee card that comes along with it. I hope you enjoy your newfound piece like I did.


Overall I had fun.

Gian, Gareth and I left the club early in the morning and met a couple of students from Ethiopia on the parking lot.

After dropping Gareth off at his hotel, Gian and I went to Gian's place then off to New World to check-in. After having breakfast, Gian fell asleep (yep, he snores like a pregnant bitch in labor). I tried to sleep but I can't.

There's something wrong and I couldn't figure out what it is.

I decided to go home instead. I left at around 9:30AM, all by myself, and endured the 30 minute drive from Makati to my house. Same old, same old, D-word inducing drama on the way back.

Nothing and I mean NOTHING can absolutely beat that feeling.

Just imagine: you after a night's worth of going out, alone on one side of the backseat, clothes all dirty and grimy, shivering from the cold car airconditioning, staring at the window as you get driven past the dirty, chaotic, industrial city that you live in, having all sorts of thoughts in your head -- and the only thing that keeps you intact is a pair of huge, black designer sunglasses.

This sort of thing happens to me each and every weekend and frankly, the only thing worse than this is being on a subway in NYC/London/Paris at 9AM, going home drugfucked or after a booty call.


Yes indeed.

Thank god I had my last (and only) half of a rivotril tablet to put me to sleep.

V is for Victor

Right. I checked my phone right when I got up and there it was - remnants that I've been drunk dialing and drunk texting people again. UGH.

Even people as far as Denmark.

Oh yes.


Sorry babes (you know who you are) for the whingeing texts I sent you.

Bryanboy, booze and any electronic device that will allow him to communicate to random strangers do not mix.

Anyway, Gian, apparently, is having Victor as his intern. He was looking for V at Embassy and he made me text him. I saw V's blog the other day when I was blog hopping and he was at this website. I was reading one of my sent messages and I texted the guy "I am so gonna put you on my blog 2 get more votes" or something like that.

And since you, my dear readers, love me (please say you do, bitches), can you all spare AND share the love and give the guy some votes at the website. Even if you do hate me, regardless, please do vote for him and make me, your mommy, proud. Or at least rescue me from shame.


And if that's not enough, here's another one off his blog.


Satisfied now? Now go get that mouse to click this link and vote for him.

I haven't voted for anyone yet cause I think the site requires registration -- and you know where I stand on male models. I quite find them errm, I dunno. See my old post about MALE models.

And one website with hundreds, if not, thousands of them: cheekbones, steroid-injecting, gym bunny tall ogres and all... is... well... excruciating HELL for me.

Bryanboy Loves... and Random Cheesemax

Bryanboy loves people from Manila, Philippines (there, I finally said it), people from Reno, NV and people from Oklahoma City, OK.

#1 - Just because I'm bisexual it doesn't mean my gaydar didn't function on Sunday Morning. There you are in your full gay glory centre stage on your own - each and every move you make at 6 in the morning screams GAY GAY GAY GAY GAY to me. Well... and to 5 other people. It could be that or it could be the pills that you've been popping. Who knows. Whatever.

You know who you are and you don't need a blindfold to pin the tail to the donkey ass.

I suggest that you buy the "Bryanboy's Guide to Keeping it Straight" handbook if you want to keep things, well, straight. Otherwise, it's bye bye career for you once people know that there's a little Dorothy in her ruby red slippers hidden inside you. You could always become a chef if everything else fails. I know you're no Ducasse but the rumor mill has it that you're a good cook. No, not 2 eggs and a hotdog. I love bagels, cream cheese, poached eggs and everything else that comes along with it. I'm anorexic.

Go on bitch, give me that "MAGNUM" look.


Cha-ching! There you have it!

#2  - I can't believe I was within a 3-meter radius with a very dirty, very old man who gave some crybaby woman an STD; and this was well publicized! Fuck, I won't even go into specifics. It will just unleash the lower middle class from within me. I'm supposed to be CLASSLESS.

#3 - Yep. That's what I thought too, folks. He DOES look like a manwhore, especially with THAT top. (and no, this isn't the man who gave some woman an STD).

Jesus, I'm starting to sound like a tabloid reporter now. Enough already!

I'm meeting up with someone from the Manila Bulletin Monday afternoon for an interview. I know - oh god!

As always, identify yourselves bitches, say Hi!, post comments or email me.

It's 4:15AM now and I wanna go back to sleep.


August 06, 2005

Rain or Rain, Saguijo, Granddad

Rain or Shine Rain

The typhoon, rain and all, being stuck in traffic for 2 hours inside the car from 2:38PM - 4:52PM, didn't stop me from going out yesterday afternoon. I was utterly bored inside the house to the point where I'm just fucking desperate.

I have a love-hate relationship with rain. I love it because in some ways, it acts like a temporary pain reliever to the 34-degree celsius heat we people in the tropics have. I hate it because it's, well, rain. Wet clothes, wet shoes, water droplets falling from the sky, wet everything.

Thank god someone rescued me from boredom and sent me a text message. An hour or so later, I dressed up, got into the car and went to a mall. I spent some time in a coffee shop discussing a possible project with a director before I met up with my gal pal Tina Daniac.


Then we had some oysters (yum) and looked around for stuff. Tina's just moved to a new, bigger house and she was looking for some household chu-chu crap: we went to a Home Depot-like store called True Value.

I ended up buying a new optical mouse for my PC at an electronics shop because my wireless one had failed me - again. We stayed at the mall until 9PM or so before going to her new house.


Saguijo, M Cafe

After Tina's, we went to this place called "Saguijo". I've heard of this place a TON of times in the past. I've always wanted to check it out because some of the people I know go there... but then again, some of my friends have been THERE and they didn't like the crowd.

Anyway, it's this apartment-like thing where there's a non-smoking bar, a patio where people can smoke, a store called "I Love You" and a little exhibit room. Most of the crowd's a bit on the indie/alternative/grungie bungie side so it's definitely something different. A band called "Drip" (whom I don't really know/haven't heard of) was supposed to be playing there last night. Someone even gave me a flyer for an event called "Rockestra": perhaps you can make your own conclusions from there.

It's funny cause Tina and I went there just to take a look at the store (being the shopaholics that we are) but we didn't expect to see Tesa (who, btw, just *ugh* so pretty) and Carlos Celdran the moment we got there. Said our HIs and Hellos and chatted a little. Check out

Saguijo's alright. Perhaps not my usual scene but it's refreshing to go to different places from time to time.

Tina and moi went to a nearby ATM machine and to Makati Medical Hospital to buy Xanax. We went to 3 drugstores all over Makati, which is a different area from where I live and as usual, the damn thing is sold out, that makes it a grand total of 8 fucking FARMacies who don't carry my wonder drug.


What can I say... I guess there are far too many similar and deranged people in the third world.

And I'm just one of them. Har har.

Our final stop for the night was our usual haunt, M Cafe. We were starving and was hoping to have a proper, full meal but little did we know that there was a crowd/friday night thingie going on there. Saw some of our friends, Ronald Passion (who made me want to go to Thailand now for the full moon parties), Steve, Kiko Escora, etc. I ended up having a couple vodka red bulls, foie gras and green apple tart.

I ended up going home at around 2AM, which, to be honest, is FUCKING EARLY, in my standards. But then again it was a Friday... a weekday, my lungs were killing me and I feel sort of sick.


It's my granddad's (dad's side) first year death anniversary today and we're gonna go for late lunch at my grandma's. He's the only granddad that I've known (my other granddad died back in the 70's... I was just eggs on my mum's body) and he was a courageous, generous and loving man. I miss my grandpa to bits, I love him and I hope he's happy wherever he is right now.

Here's a picture of my grandpa's hands inside his coffin a year ago.


Bryanboy Loves...

People from Washington DC, people from Hartford, CT, people from Toronto and Montreal, Canada, people from Athens, Greece (yes, again... too many Greek fans emailing me), people from Tel Aviv, Israel (oh my) and people from Istanbul, Turkey.

Your favorite skin care products, physician selected, at Select a Product Line: Obagi, Dermalogica, BioElements, BioMedic, MD Forte, Skinceuticals, Afirm, Joey New York, La Roche-Posay, Belli, Primacy, DCL, TYK Young Again, Zirh

As always, email me and show me some love -


P.S. I'm going out tonight, despite me not feeling well. Ugh! I'll update when I get back tomorrow.

August 02, 2005

Home Sweet Home

7:04AM and I just got back home from a new friend's "dinner party" for one of my friends..

Yes, without our driver. Yes, without my sister. And yes, I had to take public transportation in the form of a taxi cab without my hardcore sunglasses to protect me from the perils and the devastating rays of morning sunlight.

It was a long journey home, I'd say 45 minutes to an hour, on my own, trying to keep my eyes open inside of the cab while drinking orange juice, staring at the window all the time.

It's almost always like this.

Well, not the cab scenario -- I couldn't remember the last time I took a cab, but still.

"Always like this" in the sense where I have to go home all lonely and just.. let's just say the meds my shrink that prescribed me doesn't work. Seroxat my fucking asshole.

Don't even mention the D-word.

I am NOT D____________ and I refuse to acknowledge that I am D______.

Well, not that I know of.

Maybe I am, in a way, but to be honest, my problems are NOTHING and PETTY compared to, say, people with cancer, or whatever.

C'est la vie eh?

I had 2 outfits for the night - I showed up overdressed in gucci + rabbit fur + faux pearls cause it's raining but I had to change, after a couple of hours, to an old Dior t-shirt cause it was hot... and I wouldn't want to take a cab in full-blown "there you have it" outfit.


The dinner was fun. At first it was so-so because there was a lot of people there.

Then it became more intimate. Close friends and all, which was fun.

Saw quite a few of my friends - big shout out to everyone and say hi ;)

I told myself, no more alcohol and stuff. But I just have to give in.

Gawd, I just couldn't give up, considering it was only saturday that I got drunked to the bone.

And it was a Monday night for god's sake!

It's a MIRACLE for me to go out on a weekday. Seriously. I'm usually confined to my mother's birdcage but she had to make an exception cause it was one of my friend's birthday. Oh well.

But after this... ugh. God knows what happens next.

I guess I have to deal with it.

I'm supposed to be young, carefree, irresponsible and stuff.

But as each day comes, I'm dealing with restrictions. limitations. etc. I feel there's a nagging voice inside my head that says I'm doing too much.


I need to sleep. I'll sleep for a few hours and I'll wake up impossibly fresh-looking and, erm, whatever.

Good night my readers and I'll talk to you soon.


P.S. Big shout out to people from the Philippine Daily Inquirer, Philippine Star (Newspaper), Summit Media, Preview Magazine, people from Miami, FL and people from Miscrosoft. I love you all!

Identify yourselves bitches and send me an email.

July 30, 2005

RA RA RASPUTIN Lover of Bryan da Kween, Why Bryanboy is a GOOD travel buddy, Safe Sex, Love makes the world go round

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.

*kidding* Hahahahahaha!

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.

1294765 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....

Bryanboy Loves...

Loves make the world go round. And there's no other way to spread the love by sending it to my email account, 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.

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


July 29, 2005

Rivotril, Chicken Feed, Unmasking Lucifer, Fall/Winter Bank Account Drainage

Rivotri Wrecked My Day

I wrecked my Thursday night schedule thanks to Rivotril (Clonazepam). I was supposed to be in the midst of my beauty sleep yesterday considering I got up at 12:30AM on Wednesday. It was almost 5PM yesterday that I had 3 hours to go for a mini dinner party, and less than 6 hours for that Fluxe It party which is at 11PM.

I decided to take a one or two hour nap at 5:30, asking our maid to wake me up at 7.

Guess what time I got up? 4 hours ago. 1:30AM on a Friday morning.

I missed everything I needed to do yesterday. Pfft.

Gone are the days where I'm fuelled my amphetamines and can stay up to 4 days awake. These days, I have the strength of a 67 year old widow with no penny in her name. I have the same body clock as a clientless whore. Anyway, enough money, land titles, deeds and property talk. Let's move onto to some stuff that I need to purge.

Chicken Feed Galore

During my attempt to go to my coffin and catch up with some sleep earlier, I saw something on HBO with Mandy Moore in it. I know, it's one of my guilty pleasures - teeny bopper flicks. I watched How to Deal.

There was a scene there where this guy was shopping for Halmark cards to give to one of the ugly girls there. When I saw that scene, I wanted to run to the drugstore and get overdosed on Prozac.

Why the fuck aren't there any guys giving me Halmark cards?

I mean, the last time I got one was probably around 2001. Oh yes. Back in the dark ages.

On that note, I've decided to open up a PO BOX.

Later today, I'm going to the post office, open up a PO BOX address and publish it on the world wide web so random strangers, including dirty old hairy EuroTrash perverts, to send me Halmark cards.

I'm THAT desperate you bitches. Single, lonely, fat brown bitch here seeks love.

I need love. Serious love.

And love sometimes comes in teeny paper envelopes with cards in them.

Or these Guiseppe Zanotti boots. Luisa Via Roma didn't have them in my size. Size 39 is their largest. What's that in American Women's? I'm a size 9/10 women's or 7.5/8 in men's. American. So in Dior I buy size 40.


I love these boots cause they're not that feminine and I can conceal them with jeans, giving me a couple of extra inches of height.

Unmasking Lucifer: Talbots Queen in Exile

Meet Mauricio M. L_ _ _ _ _ of insert-espanola-sounding-town-here, Mexico.


I met this guy not too long ago after they've been discussing yours truly at the HintMag message boards. You think I'm a bitch? Wait till ya see the poofs there. They've been busting and crunching each other's balls out with Judith Leiber Minaudieres and Goyard customized jewelry boxes.

He's the quintessential Instant Messenger whore/stalkerette. As soon as he sees me online on MSN, his royal highness of Mexican fabulosity instant messages me with talk about clothes and fashion. He won't even give me time to purge, or to eat, or to, pee, or whatever! He's the perfect MSN buddy if you're into endless, amphetamine-fuelled chats.

I somewhat have a grudge against him cause yesterday he mentioned the B-word to me. No, it's not bitch. No it's not bollocks nor it's Boucheron, Bvlgari or Bebe. Instead, he said "BURGER".

You see, whenever I hear that word, my heartbeat goes into a full stop, causing friction in my 2 brain cells, elliciting an instant craving for a Big Mac. Oh yes -- when you're with me, you simply, simply, simply, do not mention that word, or else I'd get our fat asses into the nearest McD's to satisfy my craving. Bs are fun though, but only after a good night out. Instant calorification after a serious night's worth of serotonin drainage.

He also refers to himself as a bitch. Oh yes. To quote him:

"I also admit to being hated by some, loved by less, feared by most".

But I digress. I, Bryanboy, have the upper hand on him. He has this thing about his personal information and don't you just love blackmail?

And when there's blackmail, there's bribery.

He offered a virtual spot on the Birkin waiting list (I've got my eyes on a bright yellow Togo leather Birkin) and a "fucking ostrich skin birkin" whereas I refused that point blank. Instead, I crowned him Queen of the Talbots.


Sounds familiar, Mauricio? That's alright.

As you have said, tell everyone I wear St. John. Tell everyone I have a sexually transmitted disease. Tell everyone I have the ebola virus.

Just don't tell anyone I wear Zoran.

Nah... loves you already sweetheart. You're a doll!

You can jack off to more of Mauricio here. Enjoy!

Fall/Winter Bank Account Drainage

Fall/Winter is that time of the year where you have to watch out your spending habits because that's when all the exotics come out of mother nature and goes to the shop shelves. The furs, the coats, the handbags, the accessories -- all exotics. I love animals and there's no other way to express your love for animals is by collecting them, wearing them and storing them in the closet.

Skip the taxidermist bitches. I'm not a rural American person with a deer, donkey or a cow head on the wall.

I'm creaming my pants over these. These 3 items are calling my name. I'm just giving myself a few days to let it sink in so I won't have buyer's remorse like my LV mink bag. Ugh!

Dior. Yes. Good ol' Dior. Gorgeous boots. US$1,825 at


And then Cavalli. Jacket is 3,107 Euros, Coat is 5,590 Euros, both at Luisa Via Roma. Oh god. They both scream orgasm to me.



I'm leaning towards buying the coat. I think it's very me and I can pair it off with anything, aka jeans + tank top or t-shirt + handbag. The jacket seems to be erm, I dunno. Too dramatic.

I'm still shopping around for coats for my little Winter trip to Russia. But for now, those 2 items are on my "to buy list" if I don't see any other ones that I like.

(BTW, I still need a travel buddy/ies later this year. You pay for the airfare and your own expenses, I'll pay for mine and the hotel room. November 14 - December 7, 2005. Russia + side trip to Eastern Europe galore). I think it will be fun!

P.S. Bryanboy loves people who go to Yale, people from Singapore, people who use Comcast as their internet service provider, people from San Diego, CA and students from Berkeley.

Identify yourselves Maggots by posting a comment on my blog!

P.P.S.S. I've got something cooking these days and I'm meeting someone later this afternoon. Get your fingers crossed, pray to the good lord almighty and stock up on bottles of Brut or Drakkar Noir. It might be something major. Who knows.


July 27, 2005

More Max Factor, Calorification, Trash Reads, Calling Dr. Love, Fluxe it!, Tatsuro Ito

Yes, Bryanboy was watching CNN just now... and waves *hello* to Max Foster.


Bah. While waiting for John & Jessica's trash book recommendation from, 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!

Tatsuro Ito

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 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!

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