Tonight is the premiere of “The O.C.” on Fox. This show is going to be everything that “Sunset Beach” tried to be, but for teenagers instead of middle-aged housewives.

The web site mentions that in order to survive as a teenager in Newport Beach, you need to drive a new BMW or Mercedes, carry a cell phone with digital photos on it, have a credit card which your parents pay off, and wear nothing that’s more than a year old. At first I found humor in the obviously overdone stereotypes that they were using to create this show. But now I realize the really funny part is that many of my O.C. friends actually fit that profile.

So Amanda and I were at the Spectrum with her friend Amanda, and we were talking about what code we could use to refer to a girl with her fat stomach sticking out of her too-small shirt. Amanda’s friend Amanda suggested that we just say, “Fatty McFat-Fat” or “Look at that fatty with her fat fat sticking out of her fatty shirt.” She’s not into subtlety. I wanted to use something more like “the ground beef is leaving the sausage” or something that just hints at the idea without giving it away.

Anyway, then I had to leave because I needed to go home and move my laundry. When I had accomplished this, I messaged Amanda and simply said, “The laundry is out of the dryer.”

So yeah, that’s the code.

There’s going to be a brand new Krispy Kreme just a few blocks from work.

The new location will officially be the closest to both my office and my home. I will no longer need to trek all the way to Orange or Laguna Hills for the sinful goodness of Krispy Kreme; it’ll be just down the street.

And to boot, there’s an In-n-Out on the same corner. It’ll officially be the tastiest, highest-calorie corner in town. Now all they need is a Starbucks, and they’ll be satisfying all of my cravings.

Traci’s store alone has taken approximately seven hundred pre-orders for the new Harry Potter book. Amazon currently has it listed as their number one seller. My company has taken approximately ten thousand pre-orders nationwide. On Wednesday I asked the head of my company’s warehouse, “Where are you going to store ten thousand copies of Harry Potter?”

He just looked at me sheepishly, as if to suggest, “In the delivery truck?”

And we’ve still got another week left before the book is released.

What if this book is crap? There are going to be a lot of dissatisfied customers out there. But they’re so sure it’s going to be good, they’re willing to order it weeks in advance just to be the first ones to read it.

If I were JK Rowling, I would make the sixth book exactly one page long (with very thick covers), and that page would simply say, “Ha ha… Sucka!”

I think that’s the most unprepared I’ve ever been for an audition.

I wasn’t even planning to audition. I just went along with Claire to keep her company and because I had nothing better to do. Claire was trying to talk me into auditioning, but I didn’t want to. I didn’t bother printing out a headshot and resume for myself, nor did I practice a song.

When I got there, I decided I might as well sign up to audition since I had to wait for Claire anyway. I looked in my music folder to find a song, and I found a headshot and resume still in there from my last audition.

I didn’t wear contacts like I normally do for an audition; I was wearing my thick, black glasses. I didn’t even bother taking them off when I sang. Also, I didn’t have an appropriate song. I should have sung something very traditional and British, but instead I sang “Marriage Proposal,” a song that’s contemporary and Jewish.

So of course, I got called back.

Last night, Amanda, Deirdre, Monica, and I successfully delivered a large package of toilet paper to the front porch of the other Amanda, along with a note that said:

Do it yourself.

Sincerely,
The Lazy Toilet-Paperers

Wednesday night at about half past six, Jenn and I decided we would go see Cinderella at eight o’clock at Santa Margarita Catholic High School. Jenn was in Ontario, so she chose to drive down to Costa Mesa and then ride with me to Rancho Santa Margarita. It would have taken less time if we’d met at the show, but Jenn had never been there before, and the trip would have involved taking several toll roads, so it seemed like meeting in Costa Mesa was a better option.

However, God did not want us to see Cinderella.

While Jenn was on her way to my apartment, I called Amanda (who was in the show) to ask if she could reserve tickets. She explained that tickets could only be reserved with advance payment in cash, and she was not carrying enough cash. Therefore, we couldn’t make a reservation. We would simply have to hope that the relatively small theatre did not sell out.

Jenn arrived at half past seven, and I knew from experience that it would take us nearly half an hour to get to Santa Margarita. We were most likely going to arrive right at eight o’clock, so we left immediately. We took my car because I have FastTrack for the toll roads.

Just as we left, the gas light in my car came on. I knew from experience that I could go approximately twenty-five to thirty miles once the gas light was illuminated. Unfortunately, I knew from MapQuest that Rancho Santa Margarita was exactly twenty-seven miles away.

At about ten minutes till eight o’clock, when we got on the last toll road and were approaching Rancho Santa Margarita, and when my gas gauge was pointing directly at “zero,” it suddenly began to rain heavily.

We got off the toll road at Santa Margarita Parkway and still had several more miles to drive to our destination. We decided that stopping at a gas station was mandatory at this point even though we had no time to spare. After only one mile, we saw a Shell station approaching on the right side of the road. I prepared to turn into the driveway as I drove past, only to find out that the Shell station did not have a driveway. There was quite literally no way to enter the Shell station from Santa Margarita Parkway. Apparently if we wanted to visit Shell, we should have used our psychic powers and made a right turn at the signal light before the station, followed by a sharp left turn into it. However, it was too late for that, and we assumed there would be another station.

Several miles further down the road, nearly at our destination, with the rain still pouring down heavily, with approximately five minutes left until showtime, and with my gas gauge well past “zero,” we came upon a Chevron station. I suspected that the Chevron station would be closed, but it was open. Then I suspected that they would have a problem with my credit card, but they did not. Finally I suspected that we’d be stuck with one of those insanely slow pumps that seems to drool its gas into the tank, but we were not. It was a bit of an effort to leave the Chevron station, since much like the Shell station, there was only one oddly-positioned driveway, but it wasn’t much of a problem. Things were starting to look brighter, I thought.

Finally, a few minutes after eight o’clock, we arrived at Santa Margarita Catholic High School. At this point it occurred to me that all previous performances I’d seen at the school were in the Drama Lab, but that Cinderella was being presented in the Eagle Dome. Of course, I had no idea where on campus the Eagle Dome was located.

We wandered onto campus, in the rain, without an umbrella (because I had checked the weather that very morning and there was no mention of rain anytime during the coming week). After walking completely around the school, we finally found a person and asked him where the Eagle Dome was located. He pointed us toward a corner of the school whose existence we hadn’t noticed, and toward a dome-shaped building in that corner.

We ran over to the Eagle Dome, in the rain, and there was a line outside the door of high school students who were trying to figure out who owed whom money, who had bought how many tickets in advance, and how much each owed for the remaining tickets. We stood there in line behind them, in the rain, without an umbrella, until they finally figured things out and went inside.

Fortunately for us, the show was not sold out, it had not started yet, and we were able to obtain two tickets for the discounted price of ten dollars each.

And then, of course, the show was terrible.

I’ve been hanging out with Amanda and Amanda recently since this week is their spring break.

We were at the Block yesterday, and Thomas joined us as well. We ate at Corner Bakery, which was unfortunate since I really dislike Corner Bakery. I mean, I don’t just “not care for” it, I actually dislike it. They convinced me to try something new, so I had the “chicken pesto macaroni” or something. It was really bland and either undercooked or overcooked (I’m not sure which is which) compared to the pasta at Disneyland (which, incidentally, I had just last Thursday with TJ, Rachel, and Dennis). I also had Corner Bakery’s coffee to drink, and it tasted like mud. And no, it wasn’t “fresh ground” that morning. So yeah… Corner Bakery still a big disappointment.

The day before, Easter, Amanda and I hung out at Amanda’s house. Er… Dolan and I hung out at Lutsky’s house. We watched This Is Spinal Tap and hung out with her white-trash-with-money family. Also the Amandas and I played with my karaoke thing, which was somewhat annoying. Oh, and earlier on Easter I spent time with my family at Grandma’s house. Dean was in town visiting, so he and I talked about music and computers for a long time.

On Saturday I once again hung out with the Amandas, but this time at Fashion Island. They told us there would be a twenty-five minute wait at Cheesecake Factory, but it ended up being nearly an hour. Yikes! I had a chicken quesadilla, which is actually the same thing I had today for lunch (except today it was a pita quesadilla at Rainforest). After Fashion Island, the Amandas came back over to my apartment and we played a rousing game of “If” which included the very thought-provoking, “If you could witness one biblical event, what would it be?” I found that intriguing because although the skeptic in me would go for witnessing one of Jesus’s supposed “miracles,” I decided that if it actually happened, I’d feel obligated to believe in Christianity, and I don’t want to feel that way. So instead I decided I’d want to hear his “sermon on the mountain” so that I could hear what he actually said instead of someone’s interpretation. And I’d still be able to decide for myself whether God existed. So yeah, after that Lutsky decided she’d let me take naked pictures of her sometime, but I really don’t think that’s going to happen since she’s just a big tease.

Friday… hm… I don’t remember a single thing about Friday. How weird is that?

Before that, I was hanging out mostly with TJ.

Thursday I went to Disneyland with TJ, Rachel, and Dennis. We went on the new Winnie the Pooh ride, which was a big disappointment. TJ used his charm (?) to get the fastpass lady to let us in even though we didn’t have fastpasses (because the line was eighty minutes). This, of course, made me feel really guilty for cutting, but it ended up being a lame ride anyway (although it would be fun with alcohol), so I’m glad we didn’t wait in line for it. Rachel mentioned that she got drunk in the parking lot once and then went to Diz, and that it was really fun, so I want to try that sometime.

I didn’t receive a single email today. Also, it’s a Saturday, and I woke up this morning and took a shower, but I haven’t left the house all day. Actually, that’s an exaggeration. I left to get the mail out of the mailbox out front sometime this afternoon. I also opened the door once to remove a PizzaLand ad placed on my doorknob by someone, but I’m not sure if that counts as leaving.

Yeah… life is pretty lonely right now. I’m watching stand-up comedy specials that I’ve seen before. I don’t mean that I’m watching stand-up comedy specials, and I’ve seen a few of the comics before. I mean that I’ve watched about a dozen stand-up comedy specials today (after I got tired of the movies that have been running all week on the Love Stories channel), and I’ve seen every single one before. I have this theory about reruns: If there’s a rerun on, it means that the network can’t believe you’re actually at home right now, or at least they’re sure as hell not going to waste fresh programming on the losers who are home all Saturday night.

Yesterday Amie made a typo while talking to me online. She misspelled the word “awkward” as “awkwark.” I liked her new word instantly because it was really funny-looking, and then I quickly discovered that “awkwark” is really fun to say out loud too!