Breathing the rarefied air of sweet, sweet happiness, even if it is posthumously.

Hm. I feel alternately joyous and baffled how an, to the knowledge of people who would know, as-yet unreleased song can be the 36th most popular in the nation. *scratches head* I obviously do not yet grasp the awesome powers and methods of The Chasez. *vows to study up*

In case you were wondering, I'm set to marry Ben Affleck on May 1, 2052. Unfortunately, even at the relatively meager pricetag of $323,972, my parents will decline to foot the bill on the, albeit mostly correct, grounds that it would mostly be an exercise in vanity.

So, the real genius in our midst? Definitely not me. Title is instead held strong by one walkingshadow, whose iconing savvy is a gasp-inducing squeefest to behold. My hat, as always, is off to you, kid.

The floor dropped out from beneath my feet for a long minute at news of the Striptified stage collapse. My immediate reaction of envisioning worst-case scenarios was thankfully mostly inaccurate. Best wishes to those injured and a hopefully swift resuming of the tour for Justin & Christina.

Apparently, Cameron is already employing old tricks to keep her affair with La Timberlake hot. Or you know, something. *snicker*

Lest it go unsaid for too long, I love Lance. I also love people who love Lance. Me, right now? Feeling a lot of love.

"NASA really didn't want me to go over there because they didn't think I was serious about it," he says. "They even sent letters saying that I hadn't been to college ... basically, they were calling me stupid. I was a rock star, I'd never do it.

"But when I aced the first exam, they sort of got on board with it."

He also helped the image of "boy bands" everywhere.

"We're not wussies," he says, smiling.

And because my friendslist believed that neither my aching-from-grinning face nor bursting-with-love heart had had enough, beaux posted her wonderful recount of Lance's induction into the Mississippi Hall of Fame today.

"And there hasn't been anyone cool from Jackson since the Jackson 5!" Justin and JC stare at him. Chris ignores them. "And they weren't even from Jackson! They were just using it! It's all you!"

They both look to JC, whose input is: "Dude, I can't say anything after all that. Congratulations and stuff."

I just. My chest cavity isn't big enough for me to feel this much love.

This is fabulous Baby!JuC (a rare thing of great goodness in this fandom) that y'all should be reading. Also, I'm on a kick, so any recs across the timeline would be super.

Speaking of...

In other news, Lex Luthor and Superman have a son (yes, together), and there's really not a single coherent thing I can say about that. *is already dead, but rolls over in her grave for good measure*

Yeah, someone graciously come by and peel me off the floor at some point if my mother needs me, please.

Sunday, uneventful Sunday.

I scored seriously pretty back-to-school swag at Walgreens. Three notebooks, including a just-JC one that's so pretty I might keep it with the cover faced in while it's not being used. A couple of Backstreet items as well - for some strange reason only fueled by Susie's cute new icon, I'm simply wallowing in Boylove, and have a very real hankering to see Kevin in Chicago. Are there any bootlegs floating around?

Went to CompUSA, came away with nothing and feeling poorer than in a long time. External hard drives are already way more expensive than internal ones, but not having a desktop is decided prohibitive there. At this rate, I might as well just invest in one - a 120 gigabyte hard drive on sale is $180, which doesn't include the $70 USB 2.0 card and the $40 adapter cable I'd need to archive/retrieve data with any sort of efficiency. We're not going near the $400 for a fifteen gig iPod because that will definitely make me cry.

Borders still had this past week's Entertainment Weekly, so I'll be curling up with the Queer Eye... boys later tonight.

( My non-spoilery though un-glowing review of S.W.A.T. )

I got home in time to catch the last fifteen minutes of The Restaurant. Oh, Mark Burnett. You can spot his reality series as distinctly as Spielberg's films. Dude, there is no drama in a general office meeting until stuff starts flying. A roomful of calm, rational people? While their issues are real and the outcome significant, it just isn't the tribal council.

Rocco though. Liked him two minutes in. He looks like a slightly older, malnourished, Vitamin D-deprived version of JD from Scrubs. *pets his head and feeds him soup*

I have to remember that I like weekly serials. This too much in two hours business just isn't doing it with any level of consistency. Note to self, embark on creating a TV schedule. When I get my own place, I swear TiVo will be my first purchase.