Gucci wannabe

I'm so upset. After all my efforts directed towards membership in that exclusive Gucci Gang, I wasn't even mentioned as a member.  The nerve of these people.

In case you didn't know, I'm talking about Brian Gorrell's blog.  Yes, that juicy monster of a super blog that has taken Metro Manille by storm, given front page blurbs in the national press.

Stuff about Brian's ex-lover (whom we will call Oliver, just an extra precaution in case he decides to sue someone, anyone for libel, and since Oliver can't reach Brian who's skipping happily in Australia, I might just end up as 'collateral damage'.  Allegations of two-timing and free-loading, all very, very slanderous and quite delicious.

Not that I'm promoting the site, I'm just giving a little background here.

So, here's the deal.  Apparently, Oliver's surrounded by the Gucci Gang, an exclusive club of the beautiful and the fabulous.  Someone even published a supposed list, naming names, and whaddayaknow, I checked it out.  Well, guess what? 

My name, my precious name, isn't even included in the list.

Brian, this is so unfair.  I've already painstakingly built up this self-image of being beautiful and fabulous.  I've paid my dues.  I've gone shopping at different Gucci outlets.  So why am I not on the freaking list?

You know, like the way you posted your Western Union receipts to prove you wired money to Oliver, I can also post the receipts for my various purchases from the different Gucci stores (but word of advice, never shop in Gucci Manila - they're overpriced.  Even the stores in freaking Tokyo are cheaper than Manila's).

But I'm getting sidetracked.  Should I blame Oliver?  After all, me and Oliver go a long way, back when he was still an innocent college student in La Salle and I was an idealistic volunteer in an Anti-AIDS organization.  (Now Oliver, we did teach you how to have safer sex.  Now that Brian's revealed he's HIV positive, I hope you remembered some of the things we taught and applied your lessons.)

Maybe I should blame you, Oliver, for not casting me, even in a supporting role, in your Gucci Gang.  In fact, I'm so incensed by this omission that as I write this, I am now in Singapore keeping my eyes peeled for you. 

Yes, Brian's blog has reported that you have fled here to be with your Singaporean boyfriend, so as I check out the scene, I hope to encounter you and give you a piece of my mind.

I wonder where I can see you though.  Mok is too tame, and Happy is already closed.

Quiet bars for rice queens like Tantric isn't your scene (unless you're looking for more investors), so maybe I should stake out the club scene.

It would also be a good opportunity for me to relieve the burning questions of the day, like, are Brian's allegations true?  If so, will you pay Brian back?  Were you really cheating on him?

Did you really hire that lawyer from Pilar Village? Is he a real person?  Why did it seem it was so easy for Brian to bait him? 

Or, are you so cock-sure Brian's allegations aren't true, and they're just a pack of big fat lies, that you're perfectly confident in maintaining your Friendster account?  (Yup, I checked it out last night and it was still up and running, although your supposed Singaporean boyfriend's site has disappeared from the net.)  And most importantly, who are the real members of your Gucci Gang? (Never mind my desperate need to be part of it).

Anyway, I'm here in Singapore for a couple more days.  You bet your (let Brian describe it, he's much more colorful) I'm going to watch out for you. Nothing like scandal to make me more inclined to cozy up.

Hmmm.  I wonder if I can do a Brian on Cebu.  Name names, tell stories, reveal all about the wonderful, colorful characters we find in this slice of an island.  Write me memoirs.  That's actually quite a good retirement option.  But like Brian, maybe I should wait until I've moved to another jurisdiction.