Everybody's got a dream! What's your dream?

I would apologize for the lack of posts, but really, I don't owe you anything, internets.

So anyway, remember Philip Stuckey? Edward/Richard Gere's scheistery douchebag of a lawyer in Pretty Woman? We stayed in his apartment over the weekend:





It may be difficult to discern from these pictures, but if you were in the market for lucite furniture, lacquered cabinets, French bordello-esque bathroom lighting fixtures and velvet velvet everywhere, you would be IN LUCK! Sometimes a place just screams, "Who wants to be sexually assaulted by a balding egomaniac?"

I shouldn't complain because our little haven of ostentation was provided free of charge by a generous benefactor to whom we are very tenuously connected. It was in a fantastic midtown Manhattan location and there's no denying the hours of entertainment that mirror-on-mirror walls can provide you. But seriously, I spent the whole time wondering what color silk jumpsuit said benefactor's wife was wearing when she decided that metallic window panels were a good idea. I'm gonna guess gold. Just a hunch.