Day Four

After yet another surprisingly pleasant father dinner experience comes the poppin' fresh goodness of Day Three. They tell me the next number is four. I'm way too trusting, but here it is:



He looks like the happiest boy in all the world here. I could figure it was from a Challenge press junket, but really, I had no idea what they were talking about, other than noticing the way they kept trading lingering adoring looks. I have the folder of them labeled as 'The Coming-Out Conference' and intend to do a sort of storyboard of events at some point.

Under Glass by Calico

"By Monday's lesson," Mr Joy says eventually, tapping the board of problems with his hand. "Mess around now if you like, as long as they're done. Any questions, I'll see you individually now - which I hope you'll take advantage of, since this is the last chance before the weekend."

"Aw, but sir, I thought you were coming to my house this weekend, personal tutor style," one of the girls purrs, and the laughter reaches new heights, and Mr Joy gives her a surprised, crooked smile that JC covets.

"Fraid not," he says, then jerks his thumb at the board. "Okay, go." The class quietens down immediately, and the air rustles with scribbling noises. Mr Joy underlines Monday in crumpling red chalk, then wipes off his hand, leaving a streak of crimson across his thigh, and sits down at his desk.

"Thought you'd say these'd be rock, sir," Nick teases, after a moment, and JC swallows.

Okay. Maybe JC actually does have a tiny crush on Nick, as well.

It's back-to-back Calico! No need to thank me. Private school AU, wonderful JC voice, sexy-arrogant Nick, a supporting cast of favorites and an original character I can get behind, all in Calico's lovely, evocative style that seduces you completely.

Food shopping for one person is a lot more fun than the chore of doing it for a family of four.

Although as a small reward, I am now drinking this strange stuff by a company called Tropi-Coco. It's, get this, coconut-flavored soda. Makes my head feel sweetly fizzy and decadent, like I should be luxuriating on some expensive, tropical beach.

Oh wait. Backyard. Right. *g*

Lance leading Vegas club patrons in a chairtop dance-off to Girlfriend while fire alarms blared in the background? Somehow entirely unsurprising, though no less amusing for that. Think if something actually had gone down he'd be the only one to survive on account of, well, already flaming bright, or the fact that his body chemistry obviously contains sufficient amounts of retardant as evidenced by all the years that no conclusive evidence of the adforementioned has surfaced in any publication? You decide.

I organized both sets of New York pictures into an album last night. Dude, I'm a rockin' photographer. The only reason I was considering buying a digital camera is the advantage of seeing my pictures before they're developed to ensure they'll come out right, but about 95% of my pictures are exactly as I'd hoped they'd be.

GIPitty GIP. walkingshadow keeps outdoing herself, that clever girl. *mwah*

The principal cast of Harry Potter as models cracks my shit up, yo. It's just... silliness, you know? When I look at them, I see Harry, Hermione, and Ron, not Dan, Emma, and Rupert, so they're these quirky wizard kids who should be in student robes romping drafty castles, not glamming it up for Vanity Fair. They're all handsome/beautiful/etc, assuredly, but so very not the waify monuments to disaffection that most models are, either.

For mimesere because she noticed while I was just kinda going 'ooh, pretty limber bodyguard/assassins' during the first scene with the Merovingian:



It's a hookah! It really, really is. And our theme of the day is offically decadence, kids. (with thanks to Tamsin at

( Error: Irreparable invalid markup in entry. Raw contents behind the cut. )