I turned 40 and ran away.
It started out with a road trip to Portland.
Hit Pok Pok.
Ate this.
Boarded plane...with Larry.
Arrived at Shangri -La.
Checked in to Villa Joey.
Which is when the swinging began.
Which led to drinks at the bar.
With a ceiling like this.
Which led to dinner.
With Mr. Parker.
Which led to riding the luggage cart. With Ivan.
Where I lost track of time.
Which, thank god, eventually led to this.
Which led to this.
Which led to this.
And this.
And this.
And this.
Which led us down the raked path.
Which led to the Estate Sale Company.
Which led us back to this.
Which naturally led us back to The Lemonade Stand.
Which led back to the pool.
And Sky Captain.
Which led to meeting the exquisitely preserved concierge. John.
Who led us on a tour of the Gene Autry Suite.
Schwing.
Ring a ding ding.
That we can't afford. No bling.
Which led us to the powder.
Which led us to the closet in a closet.
And the master.
Which led us to faux horns.
And masks.
Which led us back to the living room.
Which led us to the guest room.
And another closet.
With GIMP ON THE SHELF.
Which led us home.
