I finally made the trip up to Santa Barbara with Mr. Movie Star - even if it is dead, I don't want to go too far away in case I get called to work (fat chance, but Murphy's Law rules my life most days). I figured Memorial Day was safe, though, so off we went. We stayed at some really, really nice 'resort hotel' up there (I keep wanting to call it "Chicken of the Sea" because of 'LA Story').
Speaking of Murphy's Law - I had a great time, but managed to lose my wallet.
I have one of those eensy 'evening' purses that stuff just barely fits into - the wallet must have fallen out at dinner Sunday night, and I didn't notice until we were back in the room.
Whoever found it kept it, of course (Isn't SB full of rich people? Why the hell would they keep a wallet with no money and no credit cards? Maybe they just wanted my library card or my almost full Coffee Bean Pink Card).
Dammit. I'm more upset about the Pink Card than the drivers license. I never did like 'frankenphoto'.
One of the points of friction between Mr. Movie Star and me has been inappropriate behavior in public. He's constantly pawing at me in front of people, and I'd really prefer to keep the R rated stuff private and not put on a show - Mr. Movie Star gets really upset at this, and says it's because I must be 'ashamed to be seen with him'.
At this (celeb infested, of course) hotel, the staff just seemed to turn a blind eye to anything that the guests did. At one point (in an area where other guests could see us) Mr. Movie Star had half my neck in his mouth and a hand up the front of my shirt, and the staff just smiled blandly, refilled drinks and acted like nothing was going on. Surreal.
I understand - much more now - why Mr. Movie Star is the way he is.
We came back early yesterday morning (we were going to come back Monday, but decided to stay an extra night), and I spent ALL DAY replacing the stuff that was in my wallet.