Welcome to the O.C., bitch.*

I have days when I am reminded that "Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas (er, Ohio) anymore" and today was one of those days. My roommate and I decided to have lunch with a friend who works at a bookstore in one of the fancier parts of our area. It's at the kind of mall that comes with an ocean view, every car in the parking lot is a Lexus, Mercedes, or BMW, and there are palm trees as far as the eye can see. Not to mention, stores you've only heard of on Access Hollywood or read about in US Weekly and every other person who walks past you looks like they (maybe, possibly, could be) a celebrity. Below, I offer photographic proof that this Midwestern Girl is out of the cornfields and into the O.C.

Just beyond the haze and the parking lot...the Pacific Ocean.

Even the bookstores are lovely.

Avocados. At Subway.

The first ever cupcake bakery (cupcakery?) started here.

It's called Sprinkles and it's dee-licious.

I bought six cupcakes and paid more than I'm willing to tell you.

Worth. Every. Penny.

And this? This is called "drybar". You arrive with wet hair

and for $35, they will...

(add sparkles and give it magic powers? perform a spiritual ceremony?)

blow dry it.

No cut. No style.

Just a blow dry.

For $35.

Holy lazy rich girls, Batman! 

*Again, sorry for the language, mom. This is a direct quote from the TV show called The O.C. which took place where we shopped today. Seemed appropriate.