Speaking of stupid Dawson, he's still wandering around the lot in an outfit that makes him look like a castaway from Loser Island. Way to dress up for your first day of work, dude. His shirt isn't even ironed. Also, the chest hair. The soundtrack screams as Dawson gazes blissfully at all the Hollywood folk peppering the lot: the girl dragging the costume rack, the actresses in full make-up, the people sitting around and waiting. Finally, he enters his new office, where the receptionist tells him she'll be right back, and runs off. He stands in the foyer for a moment until a young Asian woman comes bounding out and kisses him on both cheeks and frenetically starts throwing out the names of Los Angeles nightspots, trying to place him. Dawson just looks confused. "Okay, forget it, we don't know each other," she says, and takes him into a conference room, where she sits him down and tells him he's a fantastic writer. Oh, I can't wait for the sure-to-be-humiliating denouement of this particular story arc. "How can you tell?" Dawson wonders. "It's my job, sweetie," says the misguided D-Girl. Dawson sputters something about being "a huge fan of Todd's." D-Girl agrees he's "amazing. An f'ing genius," and somehow manages to turn the conversation around to her idea of doing a feature version of 7th Heaven. "What do you think?" she asks. Dawson wrinkles his massive brow. "I think that's…you know…weird," he says. "Exactly!" D-Girl chirps, and tells him that he's got "exactly the right voice for the project." She then calls him David. Cue the David/Dawson/David exchange, and, sure enough, turns out that D-Girl mistook Dawson for a new writer Todd's got on the hook, and has to call in the receptionist to ask her who the hell he is. "He's the new intern," the receptionist says. Dawson grins sheepishly.