I'm lovin' it, baby.

First, a happy birthday to the righteously fabulous popfantastic. Your sense of humor is inspirational. Hope the coming year is many, even some flavor-varieties of good to you.

Starting last night, Miranda and I decided to counteract the dismal prospects of this week by finding some way to celebrate my birthday every day, starting with a lovely late dinner complete with balloons and a free sundae (appropriately enough). Apparently the weather powers got the memo, because it is absolutely gorgeous outside today.

Saturday around 12:43 in the afternoon, this overwhelming urge of mustwritenow! came over me. Opening the WIP folder was a dismaying exercise, but then I remembered Isi's ingenious little snippet and the rest just kind of fell into place in that lovely way things so rarely do. Over 2200 words in four hours, now 3,495 with one beta done and damn if I'm not a little happy.

Horror Nights tickets are on sale! Starting this weekend until the first of November. I've been looking forward to this since June, man. Rollercoasters in the dark! Haunted houses! Tricked out rides! The best revue show of the holiday season! Bring on the Islands of Fear!

Speaking of, the woman from the Orlando playhouse called - giddyupnow, Miranda and I have seats for Saturday night's Grease! Section 109, Row D, seats 7-9. Woohoo! Also, go me for talking the former into attending that Santa Monica fashion benefit. Not that this will likely be the last time we see him strut the catwalk, but it'll be the first. I can just see him, too, trying to keep a straight face and cracking up halfway down the runway. It'll be fantastic fun.

In other news, JC and Lance are pretty much tied (heh) for Most Beautiful Creature Alive at this point. Guh with all the new pictures. The latter has the evident bonus of being a big slut, letting Jessie the boyfriend and Wade traipse through his closet. Oh, Lance. More than words, baby.

Murphy's Law trumps all, and you'll do well to remember that.

Without fail the one day you don't shower, put on makeup, or wear contacts is the one day you *will* run into every person you've ever known on this campus of 47,000, because that is just the way of things.

MMC lab instructor Al is good and apparently conducted a lecture on digital vs. analog media that, for no real reason, he made all Robbie and Justin-themed. Al, this is where you send me an e-mail and tell me to come to class. I called him on a fact error for mispronouncing Chasez and we had a little chuckle.

Then Allison from Acting-now-Reporting pulls up next to me on her bike. She's well, really overwhelmed by her work, and thinking of dropping classes. Join the club, darling. We chatted, she was a dear and said I looked really good in my carpenter jeans and brownish-grey hoodie, and we made yet more promises to actually mean to meet up with each other.

And finally, just as I was rounding the home stretch, Jon comes walking up. In his usual true gentlemanly form he let me rave and rant about the heinous advertising test and the sad state of affairs that will entail an utter lack of time to celebrate my birthday tomorrow before I even drew breath enough to muster a greeting. And then we hugged and by that point, things only got better.

Forgot to mention I dragged Miranda to see Underworld this weekend. I didn't know it was supposed to be based on Romeo & Juliet, though that explains a lot of why it felt so contrived. You know, it's really a shame that vampires are my bulletproof kink because they haven't gotten a fair shake in popular culture since Interview. If I had any directorial aspirations, I'd set out to bestow credibility to the genre.

Will now shower, fabricate some news or perhaps just editorialize to my heart's content because it's not like the grade will be better either way, and go forage for dinner.

Justin Month, Day Twenty-Nine

Oh, honey. There's just no real way to maintain that tuff exterior when someone's putting bronzer on your forehead with a makeup brush. Points for effort, though.

Certainty by Cristen

Justin's holding his hand loosely, pointing out bars and restaurants and gift shops that seem painfully different from anything JC's used to. He listens to Justin talk about how they only have a little time left before they can get the hell away from stupid high school politics. It's different from Joey's pragmatic acceptance of the status quo, and Lance's prolonged snarkiness about the whole high school experience; Justin is convinced that things will work out simply because he wants them to.

I love that about him, this utter confidence that things will go his way just because he wants them to. Justin fucking Timberlake indeed, and if you listen closely enough there's a tinge of awe to that irony.

Does something about me scream "Super-size my sparkles!"?

Because this is the second occasion that I've gotten PopOdyssey, their biggest, brightest, most gag-tastic, sparkliest tour ever, on DVD as a gift. *snogs Miranda anyway* Obviously, it's my own fault for not doing a proper job in exposing her to the proper extent of my footage storehouse. Well, we'll get that remedied soon enough. ;)