aw, you up and looked at my possibilities book......

Mel and The Brians departed for the city after lunch as sadly, whale watching was sold out. I grabbed a diet Coke and a cookie and retreated to my lovely little hotel room, which I still have for one more night. 

When throwing clothes in an overnight bag for my weekend getaway, obviously I threw in a dress. Nothing fancy, but I'd bought a print jersey dress ages ago at a Banana Republic outlet, it folds neatly into the size of a foot and you never know, right? Anyway, the dress hung in my closet, begging me to find a bold excuse to see how it fit after 2 months of cutting the empty calories of booze. 

I crawled in my cozy bed and eyed that dress as I pained my toes and watched Kiss the Girls. Somehow I noted that at 8pm tonight, one of my favorite (and now, circumstantially appropriate) movies was on ... Last Holiday!

Last Holiday, for those of you idiots that don't love yourself enough to see this movie, involves Queen Latifah finding out she has 3 weeks to live so she hops a plane to blow her life savings at a fancy hotel in the Czech Republic where LL Cool J comes to declare his undying love. 

Hmmmm. Last Holiday, huh? Well, I could either stay in and watch Last Holiday ... or I could LIVE LAST HOLIDAY!!!!

I hopped in the shower, hopped in that dress and am now having the charcuterie plate at the mahogany bar of the Ritz-Carlton Half Moon Bay. 

What's up?

There is no LL Cool J. 

There are lots of suburban couples, businessmen in wedding rings and Desperate Housewives in too much White Diamonds ordering cosmos like it's 1999. But no LL. 

None the less, this is one of those times I'd like anyone who's done me wrong to walk in here on some tour for losers who want to see how rockstars live so me and my dress can jump on the bar and give them all the finger. 

But it never happens that way, does it. We never get to run into that bitch or ex or asshole from high school who always made us feel like shit at the very moment when our fabulous situation would make them wallow in regret for all of eternity. Nope, we run into those douchebags when we're in sitting in sweats with the chicken pox eating a bucket of KFC in our car. 

Alas, I now sit alone chatting with Luis the bartender who's serving me Coke in a wine glass. But you never know. LL Cool J could walk in any second...