Day Eight - about time we branched out

I love Liz's photos. Never having been to a concert myself, they provide a beautiful slide show of the boys in their element, better than most professionally staged photo shoots. Little moments like this - Lance's eyes are almost closed as he listens to JC do what he was, as so many sources would attest, born to do.

I don't know the source, but I heard a story a little while ago. An interviewer had asked Lance who he would be if he could be anyone for a day. Lance said JC, so he could know what it was like to sing "like that." I imagine him thinking that as he's listening here. He obviously has a lot of love but also respect for the man who would pen his theme song. *g* I could see him having aspired to be like JC in the beginning, someone already so talented and coordinated to learn from. Maybe quietly hero worship, just a little, for being perfect yet perfectly accepting of Lance even at the start of their progression to brotherhood.

As much as I'd like to, it would be really tacky to rec myself, huh? Eh, link at the bottom anyway. Today, Lance shows remarkable focus despite being presented with his wildest dream.

Not A Big Lie by Calico (part three of a series)

"You tell me something first," Lance said, concentrating on not concentrating on the flex of JC's chest beneath his hand, the melting of sighs into quick panicked panting as Lance's words sank in. "Deal?"

"Okay," JC repeated, worn-leather voice, hand coming to cover Lance's fingers against his chest, and Lance slid his hand sideways, back onto the nice safe sheets, not ready to trust JC quite yet. "Deal."

Deal, Lance thought, as JC grinned knowingly and replaced his arm round Lance's neck, then realised with a sinking feeling that it was a deal, that his brain had decided that it was justified, okay, doing whatever JC wanted, just as long as it was a fact-finding mission, a chance to get the raw information from JC when JC wasn't concentrating on his words.

He almost smiled. He'd known he'd only need a minute or so to come up with a convincing excuse.

AU fic makes my toes curl, and this was just absolutely delicious to read. I give such mad, mad props to Lance for holding it together as well as he does given the circumstances. Exploiting a man's known weakness isn't fair play, but then, I doubt Sirens even know the concept exists.

Wherein there's a lot less sex, a lot more maudlin introspection, and that second-person POV everyone loves so much - All That Matters.

Miranda and I are watching Telemundo Sunday night and playing 'There's Jules!'

Seriously, there's going to be so much of my mug on that show I'll get sick of seeing it.

I mark this here and now - shaving officially sucks enough for me to begin enduring practically full-body waxes. At least the results are better, last longer, and the return process isn't nearly as maddening. Where I get it from in the first place I can't even begin to explain, looking at either parent. *shrug* Such is life. Plus, my skin feels reeeeally nice after waxing, so bonus.

My boys! They practically have their own little boyband cul-de-sac in Orlando! JC lives across the street from Joey, who lives down the street from Lance, who lives across the street from Chris, who lives down the street from Justin. You do the geography math. (Also - ha! They *did* live together in Orlando! I couldn't understand all the speculation still floating around, especially after Driven when *someone* says they were creating a family by living there, which wouldn't have happened with Joey at his parents' and Lance with his mum. But yes! Sixteen hour a day rehearsals and Cheetos all cooped together and man if that doesn't break your friendships nothing will.)

giddyupnow saw Lance today! She posted all about it here, and updated me on the good-natured vs. catty bitch debate. I think this will become like his purported bad dancing for me - I've never seen evidence of it, and therefore y'all are smoking the bad crack until proven otherwise. He's happy! I couldn't be happier for knowing that.

So Justin enters the stage via a substantial-length fireman's pole, eh?

...
No, that's all. Or maybe that the reviews are in from last night and absolutely everyone loved him. I just grin and remain steadfastly unsurprised, with growing impatience for July.

I don't remember feeling quite this tired in a very long time. Eight hours of sleep in three days will do that to you.

Premios BillBoard de la Musica Latina

Dressed stylishly chic in an elegant bell-sleeved black top, tan suede skirt and strappy shoes, I lost the war with my blowdryer and ended up with a totally cute, new hairstyle which requires a total of a dollop of Bedhead's Manipulator and air-drying, then braved the wilds of in-construction I-95 to fulfill my duty as a chosen Seatfiller.

Got a little lost en route, which made me panic since we were supposed to be there at five sharp, but I still made it right on time *and* found the chic discount clothing district of downtown Miami. Surprisingly unghetto, refreshingly stylish.

And now I'm back, bringing you an event full of schmoozing, upbeat entertainment, and grand enjoyment for having understood about three words all evening. Or, as they like to call it:

( The BillBoard Latin Music Conference & Awards )

One thing though: If I never again have to hear the word 'corazon' sung in heartfelt tones, it'll be too soon.

I probably enjoyed that a lot more than most would've given the circumstances, but I've seen so many awards shows on TV - watching the crew work to build/break sets between speeches and award presentations, what the celebs do onstage when the camera isn't on them, all the little pre-show details and scurrying cameramen and various filming techniques depending on the perfomance were all really interesting to see actually happening on the scene instead of just the finished product.

My feet hurt surprisingly little for my having stood for two and a half hours in three-inch heels. Go figure that. :) Good times.