“Where is it?” I screamed at Jason.

“I don’t know.” He yelled, looking over the mapquest directions in his hands.

“You’re the navigator! You’re supposed to be navigating!”

“You got spaghetti sauce all over the directions! How am I supposed to read it?”

“I was hungry!”

I grabbed the map from him and held it in front of my face.

“Oh man. This is hard to read.”

“I told you.”

“The sauce smells good though.“ I held it close to my noise and took a big whiff.

“Watch the road!” He grabbed the steering wheel and swerved us away from a light pole.

I threw the map down on the floor. “How hard can it be to find a parking garage!”

We drove in circles for about 15 minutes, me cursing the entire time.

“You know, if you hadn’t insisted on waxing everything below the waist, we could have been there an hour ago.”

I glared at him. “Excuse me, Mr. ‘I Need To Spend 30 Minutes Straightening My Hair’.

He blushed. “It’s soft and sleek.”

“Stop hanging out with Seacrest!”

I pulled the car to a stop. “I’m parking here.”

“You’re on the sidewalk.” Jason screeched.

“Man up!” I punched his arm. “Get out of the car.”

We jumped out of the car and ran before some nosy cop could pester us about our choice of parking spot.

We shoved ourselves through the crowd of fans so we could get in line at the concessions stand.

As we waited in line, I debated over which t-shirt to buy.

“You should get the green one.” Jason offered.

“Meh. I kind of want the blue one.”

“The green one is better. He’s lying down.”

“He looks gay in the green one.”

“He looks stupid in the blue one.” I punched him in the arm for saying so.

“I’m getting the blue one.” I decided. “Which one are you getting?”

“I’m already wearing one.” He opened his coat to reveal one of my shirts.

I gasped. “That’s my favorite shirt! You better return it in the same condition you found it in!!”

I bought my shirt and we went in search of our seats.

We walked up several flights off stairs to the top level of the balcony.

“This is the best your money can buy?” Jason complained.

“I bought these tickets 10 seconds after they went on sale!” I threw my coat onto the seat next to mine. “Clay Aiken is a hot commodity!”

We sat there for an hour, waiting for the show to start. We were both starting to get restless.

I stomped my foot on the floor and chanted, “We want Clay.”

Jason leaned over the edge of the balcony and yelled for Clay to get his ass in gear.

I gasped at the word ass, yelled how it would deeply offend Clay, and tossed my program at the back of Jason’s head.

It hit him hard and his body tumbled over the balcony.

“OMG!” I yelled and ran over to the edge of the balcony. “That’s my favorite Clay shirt! You better not get any blood on it.”

Security guards forced me to take Jason and our “tomfoolery” and leave their fine establishment.

“I’ll show them!!” I shook my fist at the theater as we walked away, Jason clutching my arm to walk on his twisted ankle.

“I’ll be back. Oh yes, I’ll be back.” I looked at the theater one last time as we got into the car and drove away.